Page 10 of Chasing the Other Woman

I don’t let the fear creep into my voice. The fear gets louder when I can’t put eyes on the thing. My anxiety races ahead of me, fear twisting as I think about Brooks out there in it without me.

“Lead, you’ve got a strengthening couplet Southwest of Fairview. Stay north for now. Hershel, don’t let that second vehicle drift west.”

“Copy that,” Hershel says. “I got a few more concerts in me I wanna make.”

Brooks doesn’t laugh like he usually would. A peek at the feeds shows his jaw tight, lips pressed thin. Luci’s beside him, one hand on the grab handle, eyes bright, body ready. She says something I don’t catch, and Brooks gives her a tight smile. First one I’ve seen tonight.

My fingers move over the keyboard before my heart can make a meal out of it.

I own the one thing I’ve got left. The radars. The comms. The control of it while being completely out of control of anything real. It doesn’t diminish my knowing, though. I can still feel how this one is about to whip us all into shape.

Still, I know I’d be better out there with him. He’d drive, I’d track. We’d sometimes communicate with just a look.

“Left,” I’d say.

“You’re the boss, Sammy Girl.”

Or he’d point at something through the windshield and ask, “You see what I’m seeing?”

We fell in love before the wind had stopped blowing on that first storm we shared. Back then, I’d never wondered if there was room for me beside him.

Now, I wonder if there’s any place in the world for me near him.

“Command,” Brooks says, snapping me back. “Talk to me.”

I’m back to being command.

I swallow. “You’re good for another mile, but you need to keep ahead of that south option. This thing is cycling fast.”

“Luci?” he asks.

My hand stills on the mouse.

I look up at the feed. I don’t dare look at the chat.

“Visually, base still looks clean,” she says. “We’ve got space.”

I look at the velocity scan. They don’t have space.

“Brooks, listen to me. You need to cut south now. County Road 11 is your last clean option before the core wraps you.”

For a moment, all I hear is rain battering the windshield.

“Luce?” Brooks asks again.

I feel sick.

She hesitates. “I mean, I can still see east. If we keep moving, we might beat it and get a better angle.”

“No,” I say, and my voice is too sharp. I try to remember to breathe. “No, you won’t. That road floods at the low crossing. Take Eleven, Brooks. Now.”

Silence.

In that silence, I see Brooks that night two years ago. He went left when I’d said right. It was one of the few times that the storm had us both so out of sorts that we weren’t listening to each other.

“Brooks,” I say, trying to keep the pleading tone out of my voice. Pleading that he listens because I’m afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t. Pleading that he’ll listen because I’m afraid of what it means if he doesn’t.

“We’re going to push another half mile,” he says.