The door flies open and there’s Cooper, haggard and exhausted with a hole in his shirt and his shoes on the wrong feet, butalive, and I almost burst into tears.
“Seb.” He reaches for me, hugging me tight. I throw my arms around him, not caring if I’m being dramatic. “You’re okay. We’ve been worried sick about you two.”
“Is Mia okay?” I ask, stepping back and using my shirt to wipe my eyes. “And Harlow and Nate?”
“Everyone is fine.” Cooper holds the door open, gesturing us inside. He gives Quincy a hug, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “We crammed into the closet in the master bedroom late last night when it sounded like the roof was going to go. Barely got any sleep. Had no clue what time it was. They’re still in there, but I came out when I heard the banging. Guess the storm is over, huh? How long have you two been back?”
“We just pulled into town. Can’t drive down the street. We had to park at the corner and walk.”
“I haven’t been outside yet.” He glances around Quincy’s shoulder, eyes widening when he spots the front yard. “Christ. It’s like a war zone.”
“It’s like that everywhere. Punta Gorda is leveled. Nothing’s left, and the rest of the state suffered severe damage too. I’m going to go find the girls,” Quincy says, her hand brushing against mine as she hurries down the hall.
I watch her go, realizing I’m staring when Cooper snaps his fingers in front of my face.
“Looks like someone had fun storm chasing,” he teases, and I roll my eyes.
“Mind your business, Coop.”
“Hard to do that when you have a hickey on your neck. Nate is going to roast you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I glance in the hallway mirror and fix my shirt, hiding the mark as best I can. “You’re seeing things.”
“Sure I am.” He turns on his heel, following behind Quincy andsinging something that sounds an awful lot likefirst comes love, then comes marriageunder his breath.
A window in Mia’s master bedroom is broken, the flowerpot that smashed into it lying on the floor. There’s some water under the door that leads to the terrace out back, and the carpet is soaked and squishy. I find my friends gathered in the closet, a stack of pillows and blankets and supplies surrounding them.
“Seb!” Mia jumps to her feet and launches herself at me, hugging me tight. “Oh, I’m so glad you two are here. Quincy was telling us about what you went through.”
“Never again,” I say. “The next Category 5 hurricane we’re hunkering down with y’all. Is everyone all right?”
“Fine.” Nate stands and holds out his hand, giving my palm a shake. I swat at his arm and pull him into a hug too. “Cooper took care of us and kept us safe.”
“He really did,” Mia adds. “He stayed awake all night so he could look after us.”
“Just wanted to make sure y’all were okay.” Cooper busies himself with folding a blanket. “I’m glad that’s over.”
“Me too. I’m starving, and my knees hurt from keeping them curled up to my chest all night.” Harlow stretches her leg and winces. “We’re getting old, and Nate is too tall.”
“I can’t help it that I’m six five.”
“We don’t have power, obviously.” Mia gestures at the lack of electricity and air-conditioning. “Food options are limited.”
“We have bread and peanut butter in the car. A picnic could be fun,” Quincy suggests.
“I’ll grab it.” I look around my group of friends, imagining them spending time together without me around. It stings, and I rub the ache in my chest away with my knuckles. “Look. I know we don’t do sappy stuff, and all six of us don’t usually hang out together at the same time, but I’m glad everyone is safe.”
“You’re going to miss us when you go back to New York, aren’t you?” Mia teases, standing on her toes so she can ruffle my hair.
“Yeah.” My eyes snag on Quincy. That word echoes again, a drum that won’t stop beating.Love. Love. Love. “I’m going to miss y’all very much.”
“I’m so mad at myself.” Mia jumps into her pool, her cannonball splashing me. “I’m a terrible person,” she continues when she pops her head out from under the water.
“I’m sorry.” I hold a portable fan up to my face, trying to cool off. The electricity has been out for four days, and I’ve practically been living in Mia’s pool so I don’t have to sit inside without air-conditioning. “You’re going to have to be more specific, sweetie, because last I checked, you made sandwiches and delivered them to everyone in your neighborhood in a literal picnic basket because the town still doesn’t have power. You have a heart of gold, and I could never consider you a terrible person.”
“I was about to complain about that lawn cleanup we did earlier. I sweat so much, I feel absolutely disgusting, but then I remembered people died in this storm. Hundreds of families lost their homes. They’re displaced without anywhere to go, and I’m over here complaining aboutsweat? I need to get a grip.”
“Two things can be true. You can complain about your own problems while also recognizing other people have it worse than you. That doesn’t make you a horrible person.”
