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“Pack a bag?” His eyes scanned mine, panicked. “So youareleaving?”
As much as he said he wanted me to leave, he absolutely didnotwant me to go.
I rolled my eyes, and with the mother of all sighs, I took his hand and led him upstairs. “No. This is a ready bag. Clothes, towels, first aid, lube. You know, the essentials.”
He was quiet as we stuffed a duffel bag full.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I should have thought of this.” He stopped, put his hand to his forehead, and sighed. “I didn’t even think about the cameras, and now this. I’m so unprepared.”
I squeezed his arm. “No you’re not. Your mind’s focused on other things.”
“It shouldn’t be. It should be focused on exactly this.” He stuffed a towel into the bag. “On you. I should have considered what you need and how to make sure you’re—”
“Jeremiah,” I said, my tone sharp and serious. His gaze shot to mine. “Stop overthinking it. This is your first cyclone.”
“Have you been through one before?”
“Well, no. We’ve had some come close, and most downgrade before they get here. None like this.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ve lived in the tropics my whole life. We get crazy shit every wet season. Extremes are the norm here.”
“Well, by definition, that makes no sense. If those extremes are normal, then they’re no longer extremes but the norm—”
Yeah, okay, he was freaking out.
I took his arm and made him face me. “Stop. We need to pack a bag, then get you to work. You don’t wanna be late today. Hazer will be the least of your concerns with a pissed-off Doreen comin’ at you.” I peered into his eyes. “It’s okay to be stressed. It’s completely understandable to be concerned right now. Where’s that unfazed scientist who walked us into the crocodile infested mangroves?”
“There were no crocodiles when we walked in,” he mumbled. Then his eyes met mine. “I didn’t have you then. I didn’t have these feelings then. I mean, maybe I did, but this is different.”
I put my hand to his cheek. “We’ll be okay. And you did have me back then. You had me long before then.” I gave him a quick kiss, then looked around the room. “Is there anything you want to bring with you? Any personal items you don’t want to lose in case my house isn’t here tomorrow?”
He blinked a few times, and I could see him grappling with the urge to freak out again, but he managed to fight it. He fisted my shirt. “Just you.”
My smile was immediate and the thump of my heart almost painful against my ribs. “And you think you can’t say you love me.”
I was expecting him to smile or roll his eyes, but he didn’t. His hold on my shirt was now with white knuckles. He tried to talk—perhaps he was trying to tell me he loved me—but in the end just nodded.
I put my forehead to his. “I know,” I whispered. “I know.”
He swallowed hard and nodded before he let me go, and I ran my hand down his chest and ribs... until I felt something that shouldn’t have been there. “Are you... are you wearing a bra?”
His eyes went wide. “What? No, of course not.” He blushed and shook his head. “I’m not wearing a bra.”
I pulled up his shirt and he sighed, resigned. There, strapped around his chest was the heart-rate chest strap. I raised an eyebrow and my smile widened. “Clearly you’re not as unprepared as you think you are.”
He rolled his eyes. “We should get going. Or Doreen will take her bat to me.”
“If she does, at least the paramedics will know your ECG stats.”
He ignored that, took one last look around my room, at the photos on the wall, and I went to close the door, but Jeremiah stopped me.
“Wait,” he said. He went to the photos I’d taken and took one frame off the wall. It was the black and white photo of a younger me at the bunker. He held it to his chest. “Okay, now I’m good.”
I pulled the door closed with a smile.
