Page 211 of The Storm

Do I?

I straighten my back and stare out the window. The city makes my head feel even more cramped. Buildings everywhere. Buildings and people and concrete.

My gaze lands on my keychain. On the key Nick handed me. The one I’ve studiously ignored so far. I grab it, squeezing it until the edges dig into my skin.

I suddenly know where I’m going.

SIXTY-THREE

NICK

“Do I smell bacon?”Callum asks when he walks into the kitchen.

I grunt and point to the pan while I continue slicing the cauliflower.

He picks up a slice and chomps it down before reaching for another one.

“I’m starving,” he exclaims. “Get this…”

He launches into a story, and I give an occasional nod, only half listening while my gaze drifts out the window. The deep blue sky has transformed over the last fifteen minutes as storm clouds rolled in. The change—from sunshine and an occasional fluffy white cloud moving lazily over the horizon to ominous dark-blue storm clouds—has been impressively fast. The colors seem muted somehow, almost dark grayish blue like it’s the middle of the night.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbles.

The timer goes off, and I pull the pan of sweet potato slices out of the oven.

“Getting nasty out there,” Callum says.

I take another glance out the window, giving him an absent nod.

“You heard anything from Indy today?” he asks. “How’s he doing?”

I snap my eyes up. “What do you mean?”

“He texted. Said he wasn’t feeling well.” He tosses a cherry tomato into his mouth.

I frown and check my phone. Still nothing from Blue. All my messages today have gone unanswered and unread. I put the phone down slowly, mind already racing, so whatever else I do in Callum’s kitchen during the next twenty minutes happens on some kind of autopilot before I give up.

I grab my phone. “I’ll just go check on him.”

I pace while I listen to the dial tone, but he doesn’t pick up. What does pick up, though, is my heartrate. There’s a rising rumble outside.

A storm is coming.

It’s an almost absent thought, but it spurs me into action.

I stuff my phone into my pocket.

“Going out for a bit,” I call, and without waiting for a reply, I head outside.

All around me on the street are people sending anxious looks toward the darkening sky and rushing to get inside before the rain hits.

I jump into my car and pull into traffic. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel the whole way to Blue’s place. As I park in front of their building, the first fat drops of rain start coming down. I sprint inside and up the stairs.

Bridget opens the door with a surprised look on her face.

“Nick.” She frowns. “What brings you by?”

“Blue,” I say over my shoulder, already striding toward his bedroom. “Is he okay?”