The Reality of Everything - Rebecca Yarros Page 0,150

talk to you.” The phone moved forward, and Vivian came into view. She was on the couch, just like Finley had said.

“Morgan?” She was pale as hell, and the lines of her face were etched with pain. “How are you, dear?”

“How hurt are you?” I asked, throwing manners out the window.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She tried to force a smile.

“Vivian. Please. You have Finley. So let’s not beat around the bush.” My hand gripped my phone so tight I was surprised it didn’t crack.

“I think I broke something,” she said quietly. “I can’t move anything from my hip down.”

Shit. “Did you call 911?”

“They pulled all the emergency responders, dear. It’s okay. We’ll just wait it out.” Her eyes closed as she breathed heavily. “Sorry. It’s a bit uncomfortable.”

“What were you doing on a ladder?” I asked, unable to stay quiet.

“There’s more that goes into hurricane prep than boarding up windows, young lady.” Her lips pursed.

“It’s going to be days until someone can get to you if you guys don’t get out now. Can you drive? Or call someone who can?”

She shook her head. “I can’t move, and I’m not calling people to leave the safety of their homes. The winds are already up around eighty miles per hour. Now don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours. I’ve weathered far worse hurricanes than this one.”

The phone beeped on their end.

“Oh, that’s Daddy. I’ll talk to you later, Morgan!” Fin exclaimed.

She didn’t wait for me to say good-bye. My screen went black.

My chest heaved and my mind raced. I’d seen Vivian’s house. It was only a block or two from the sound, and the reporters had just said the surge would be unprecedented. She was immobile, and she had Fin.

Go. The urge punched me in the gut.

And do what? They’d closed the bridges to incoming traffic. Was there anyone I could call? Christina had already evacuated, and I would never ask her to put herself in danger.

Go. The urge filled me with unreasonable urgency. Instinct? Worry? Overreaction? Maybe all three.

How the hell had Claire left Finley on an island facing a hurricane?

Oh God, what if something happened? There were no emergency responders. No Jackson. He had to be sick with worry. And what the hell was I doing? Sitting here in my hotel room while that storm barreled toward them?

She’s not your daughter. There’s nothing you can do.

It didn’t matter that I loved her. I had no control over the fact that Claire had left her there like an inconvenient carry-on in an over-full plane.

Fin might not be mine, but she was Jackson’s.

And while I might not be Jackson’s…well, he was mine.

Go.

I scrambled off the bed and threw things into my suitcase. The dress had to go.

Knock. Knock.

I was mid-unzip as I reached the door and found Paisley and Sam on the other side. “Come in.” The zipper was down by the time I was back to the bed.

“Hey, are you ready to… What are you doing?” Paisley asked.

“Finley’s on Hatteras. Claire left her there.” I stepped out of my dress and let it fall to the floor. “Vivian fell and broke something. I think it’s her leg.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and she quickly shut the door. “Oh my God, did they call someone?”

“Emergency services were pulled two hours ago. There’s no one.”

“You’re not thinking of going down there are you?” Paisley questioned.

I stepped into the only jeans I’d brought and yanked them up my legs. A shirt came next.

“Morgan!” Paisley yelled.

“I can’t stay here and do nothing, Paisley! Hatteras is six hours away, probably less since I’ll be the only one going that direction. At least there’s no traffic, right? I can make it before the storm hits.” Socks.

“You…you can’t be serious.” Paisley’s eyes flew huge. “Morgan, tell me you’re not serious! You can’t just drive into a hurricane!”

“Sure I can.” I grabbed my shoes, thankful I’d packed some sensible sneakers, and put them on. “I have the truck. Not the Mini. The storm surge will start about two to two and a half hours from landfall, which means I have…” I looked up at the clock. “Eight and a half hours to get to Vivian’s and get them back to my house. That’s a two-and-a-half-hour window for error. Plenty of time.”

I hopped up and raced to the bathroom, throwing my toiletries into a bag and pausing long enough to pull my hair up so it wouldn’t get in the way.

“I can’t let you do this.” Paisley stood there shaking her