The Reality of Everything - Rebecca Yarros Page 0,159

Island had been cut off when a stretch of NC 12 washed out south of Avon. It could take weeks to repair. Vivian didn’t have weeks…or even days. She needed medical attention now.

I looked up to the skies and assessed the ceiling. It was still overcast but safe for flight. We just needed a big enough signal.

In hushed tones, so I wouldn’t wake Fin from her well-deserved nap, I explained my plan to Vivian.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Her face was tight with pain that Tylenol wasn’t touching.

“I think it’s our only shot. Cell service is still out. Your leg needs to be set, and we didn’t grab your insulin while making our escape. If you have another idea, then I’m all ears, but right now, this is all I’ve got.”

She sighed, the skin puckering between her eyebrows. “Okay. But only if you let me help repaint once the weather is nice enough.”

“Deal,” I offered, though I had zero intention of taking her up on it. “I’ll be right back.” I pulled the five-gallon bucket of red paint from the storage closet, stuck a paintbrush and screwdriver into my back pocket, then carried it all onto the deck.

Then I started painting.

It took the better part of an hour, but I was now the proud owner of a giant red X on my deck and enormous letters that read H-E-L-P.

Then I checked on Vivian and Fin and settled in for the long haul. I evaluated our supplies, then gauged the fuel level in the generator.

Just as I’d come inside and made peace with becoming a somewhat more eccentric version of Tom Hanks in Castaway, the sound of rotor blades beat the air.

“Daddy!” Finley raced for the sliding glass door.

“Hold up!” I barely beat her there. Sure enough, hovering above us was a rescue swimmer descending from the rope of a Coast Guard SAR helicopter.

I knew it was impossible, but my heart skipped, anyway. I hadn’t seen Jackson in almost two months, and while these weren’t the best circumstances for a heart-to-heart, I was ready to keep the vow I’d made last night.

“Are you Montgomery’s girl?” he shouted as his feet hit my deck.

I nodded. “Is that him?”

The guy looked at me like I was crazy. “No. He’s deployed, right?”

“Right.” Guess this was not my movie moment.

“Hastings is flying. He saw the X. The entire island is cut off. They’ll probably start evacuating who they can tomorrow, but we have room for two more.” He had to yell the words to be heard over the noise.

Two. Not three. This wasn’t even a made-for-television moment.

So I did what any woman in my situation would do—I sent Vivian and Finley to safety, even though they both protested, one loudly and with many tears because I couldn’t hide what had happened to her house.

Then I was alone…unless I counted the four animals I was now responsible for. Juno wound herself through my legs, confirming that she counted. I was one of the only humans she found acceptable, but I still made a mental note to hide all my shoes.

Finley and Vivian were safe, and my house still stood. I sent up a prayer of thanks.

Exhausted beyond all belief, I curled up on the couch and propped my cell phone on the coffee table, watching those service bars like a hawk in hope they’d return.

I had a vow to keep.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jackson

“You fucking what?” I charged at Hastings in the middle of the Elizabethtown air station.

“I only had room for two more, Montgomery!”

“So you just left her there?” I came around the table at him. “She’s been out there all alone since yesterday?”

“There are hundreds of people out there! What did you want me to do?” He put his hands up, which caught me off guard long enough to stop myself from beating him to death.

“I wanted you to rescue my girlfriend!” I shouted. That term didn’t even remotely come close to what Morgan meant to me, and she’d probably deny it was even true.

Sawyer flanked my right, and Garrett took my left.

“We’re running round-the-clock evacs on serious cases, Jax, and I rescued your daughter and her grandmother because Morgan chose to save them. Now calm the hell down.” Three other pilots stared at us like we were the evening entertainment.

“Calm down? Where’s Christina right now?” I spat.

“In Tennessee with her family.”

“Morgan is on a hurricane-ravaged island! I have no idea how much food she has, or gas for her generator! So do not tell