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I pinch my eyes closed as I berate myself for being so ridiculous. Why did I have to make this so hard on us? I essentially created a death trap obstacle course for him to navigate. “I’m sorry.”
It’s so faint, I’m surprised he hears it.
“You didn’t knock it over,” he assures me, trying to steal the blame when we both know it lies solely on my shoulders.
“I don’t know why I tried to divide the room. I should have just locked myself in the bathroom and called it a night. At least I wouldn’t have caused as much trouble in there. Although, who knows ... I could have flooded the place, I guess.”
He doesn’t confirm or deny my stupidity. Instead, he stays on task.
“I was trying to make it to the dresser. That’s where my flashlight is.”
Flashlight!
Duh.
I’m still holding my phone, and I quickly scroll through the screen prompts until I turn the flashlight feature on. I have officially redeemed myself,slightly.
Shallow light blankets the room now. I reluctantly look up at Cole, wincing as I brace for the worst. He should be scowling at me, angry beyond belief, his injured toe throbbing in tandem with his violent thoughts. But instead, his expression is soft and caring—his relief palpable. Suddenly there’s a heavy lump in my throat, one I have a hard time swallowing past.
“Smart. I forgot about my phone.”
He tugs his out of his pocket and turns on his flashlight too.
“Now that you have that light, check around you and make sure there’s no glass. If you can, try to get up on the bed.”
For once, I don’t argue. With careful steps, I tiptoe toward the bed and scurry up onto it like there’s a monster clawing at my heels.
“Now stay there,” he says, holding his hand up like a stop sign.
With the light from our phones, he can easily find his way to the dresser. His flashlight clicks on, and now there’s plenty of light to see the mess I’ve made around the room.
Good grief. It’s like the hurricane’s already passed through here and left its destruction.
“I need to get a broom and vacuum from the housekeeping closet.”
His declaration is punctuated by a phone call. Ah, so it begins.The frenzy.
If the entire resort is without power right now, we’re screwed. Guests are going to lose their minds. I mean, take their lights, fine. But their TVs?! How are they supposed to watchFamily Feudnow?!
Beyond that, there’s the fact that it’s late August. Outside, it’s a humid ninety degrees. This hotel is well insulated against the elements,but it won’t matter. If the backup generators don’t kick on, it’s going to get hot in here, andfast.
There’s also the real fear of the hurricane to contend with. These guests are away from home, in an unfamiliar environment, rightfully worried about their safety. Poor Cole. He’s about to be their punching bag.
“I’ll do it!” I rush out as he frowns, still reading something on his phone. “I’ll clean up in here. Just go. I’m sure they need you.”
“The backup generators should have kicked on,” he says to himself. His concern is etched in worry lines across his face.
“I know.”
He drags his hand through his hair. I know he wants to let loose a string of expletives a mile long. I would. It’s been one issue after another over the last forty-eight hours. Then I really helped things along by showing up at his door with my own basket of crazy. And he just sat there and took it while I rearranged this place. It’s laughable how patient he is, but I see it taking its toll. The way he rubs his forehead. The way he squeezes his eyes shut tight, like he’s steeling himself to open them again and face what awaits him. The stress would be too much for anyone.
He looks up at me with a fierce, determined gaze. I nearly gulp. “Listen, I need you to stay in here, okay? Downstairs is going to be a madhouse, and I don’t want you anywhere near it. Just stay put.”
Already, I’m creeping toward his side of the bed so I can swing my legs off. “I could help. I mean, I’m an employee here—”
“No.”I freeze in place. His tone leaves zero room for input. “With everything else going on, I don’t want to have to worry about you.”
Ouch.
