CHAPTER 6: THE STORM
1619 Words
VESPER'S POV
The first drop hit the glass at 3:12PM.
By 3:30PM, the sky was black.
Not rose-black. Storm-black.
Ashford Bay didn’t get hurricanes. We got rain. Lots of it. But this? This was different.
The wind howled down Bay Street like it was looking for something to take.
“Ves,” Maren said over the phone. “You need to close. Now.”
“I’m not closing at six,” I said.
“That’s not what I—”
The line cut out.
Power flickered.
I looked at the clock. 5:47PM.
Thirteen minutes until six.
He would come.
He always came.
Even in rain. Even after walking ten miles.
Especially now.
The door rattled in the wind.
I locked it anyway.
At 5:59PM, I stood at the counter.
My hands were shaking. Not from fear. From habit.
The bell didn’t ring at 6:00PM.
6:01PM.
6:05PM.
6:10PM.
The rain hit the roof like fists.
He wasn’t coming.
“Stupid,” I whispered. “He’s not your—”
The door slammed open.
Elias.
Soaked. Bleeding from his forehead. Jacket torn.
“You’re late,” I said. My voice broke.
“Road’s blocked,” he said. “Tree down. I ran.”
He was dripping on my floor. Again.
But this time he looked hurt.
“What happened to your head?”
“Branch.” He touched it. Winced. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s bleeding.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
I grabbed the first aid kit from under the counter. Aunt Livia’s. Old. Dusty.
“Sit.”
He sat. On the floor.
Like always.
I knelt in front of him.
My hands shook as I cleaned the cut.
“You walked in this?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s six.”
The cut was deep. Two inches. I pressed gauze to it.
“You should’ve stayed in your hotel,” I said.
“I should’ve.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
He looked at me.
“Because you’d be here alone.”
My breath caught.
The lights went out.
Darkness.
Only the storm.
I didn’t move.
Neither did he.
The gauze was still on his forehead. My hand was still on his.
“Power’s out,” I said. Stupid. Obvious.
“I know.”
“Can you see?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have to pretend I’m not scared.”
The wind screamed.
Something crashed outside.
Glass? Wood?
Elias’s hand moved. Not to pull away. To cover mine.
On his forehead.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?”
“Let go.”
I didn’t.
We sat in the dark.
His blood on my fingers. Rain on the roof.
“Vesper,” he said.
“Yes.”
“If this shop goes—”
“It won’t.”
“If it does—”
“It won’t.”
“If it does,” he said, firmer. “You come with me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not leaving my roses.”
“Then they come too.”
I laughed. It was hysterical. “You can’t move a greenhouse, Elias.”
“I can buy land.”
“This isn’t about money.”
“It’s about you.”
“I don’t want to be your project.”
“You’re not.”
“Then what am I?”
His thumb moved over my knuckles.
“You’re the reason I ran through a storm.”
The air went still.
Even the wind paused.
“I’m not good at this,” he said. “At saying it.”
“Saying what?”
“That I need you here.”
I should’ve pulled back.
I didn’t.
“Elias,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I mean it.”
The lights flickered back on.
Weak. Dim.
I could see him now.
Blood on his face. Water in his hair. Eyes on mine.
He looked wrecked.
He looked real.
I let go of his hand.
“I need to bandage you,” I said.
“Okay.”
I wrapped his head. Clumsy. Tight.
My fingers brushed his hair.
He didn’t flinch.
When I was done, I sat back on my heels.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
The power went out again.
This time I didn’t panic.
I reached out. Found his hand.
In the dark.
He squeezed.
We sat on the floor.
Backs against the counter.
Shoulder to shoulder.
The storm got worse.
The glass roof creaked.
“Vesper,” he said after a long time.
“Yes.”
“If I lose you—”
“You won’t.”
“I could.”
“Not tonight.”
“Tonight is the problem.”
I turned my head. Couldn’t see him.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve spent fourteen days sitting next to you and not touching you.”
I went still.
“I mean I’ve spent fourteen days pretending six o’clock is enough.”
My heart was loud. Too loud.
“It’s not,” he said. “Not tonight.”
“Elias—”
“Don’t tell me to go.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Good.”
His hand moved.
Not away.
Up.
To my face.
His fingers were cold. Wet.
He touched my cheek like he was checking I was real.
I was.
“I’m scared,” he said.
“Of the storm?”
“Of you.”
“Why?”
“Because you make me want to stay.”
“I do want you to stay.”
“I know.”
“Then stay.”
“I am.”
He was close now.
I could feel his breath.
Rain. Blood. Him.
“Vesper,” he whispered.
“Elias.”
He didn’t kiss me.
Not yet.
He rested his forehead against mine.
Like he did on day eleven.
But this time his hand was on my neck.
This time I didn’t pull back.
The roof groaned.
Water dripped on us.
Cold.
Neither of us moved.
“Is this stupid?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Are we doing it anyway?”
“Yes.”
His lips touched mine.
Soft.
Unsure.
Like he was asking permission with his mouth.
I gave it.
I kissed him back.
Once.
Twice.
It wasn’t a movie kiss.
It was rain. And blood. And fear.
It was real.
He pulled back first.
“Sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“For waiting.”
I shook my head. “Don’t.”
“Okay.”
We didn’t kiss again.
We just stayed.
Forehead to forehead.
Hands tangled.
The storm raged.
At 9:00PM, it stopped.
Just... stopped.
The silence was deafening.
Elias stood first. Pulled me up.
The shop was intact.
The greenhouse leaked, but it stood.
The roses were wet, but alive.
“We won,” I said. Again.
“Again,” he said.
He looked at me.
Bandaged. Wet. Shaking.
“Vesper,” he said. “I’m not leaving tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“I’m not leaving next week.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll stay.”
“I know.”
He nodded.
“Good enough?”
“Yes.”
He left at 9:30PM.
The roads were clear enough.
I watched him go.
Then I locked the door.
I didn’t sleep.
I sat in the greenhouse.
Among the wet roses.
My lips still tingled.
October 16th.
6:00PM.
He came.
No bandage. Just a small scab.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
We didn’t talk about last night.
We repotted.
Our hands touched.
Neither of us pulled back.
At 7:00PM, he said, “The storm’s gone.”
“I know.”
“But I’m still here.”
“I know.”
“Good,” he said.
Maren came at 8PM.
She took one look at us and grinned.
“Knew it,” she said. “Storm always brings the truth.”
“What truth?” I asked.
“That you’re not alone anymore, idiot.”
She was right.
I wasn’t.
October 17th.
A delivery came.
From Elias.
Not flowers.
Tools.
For the greenhouse. New shears. New pots. New lights.
With a note: `For the next storm.`
I kept the note.
In my pocket.
October 18th.
Calder called.
Not to threaten.
To concede.
“The resort’s moving two blocks down,” he said. “Congratulations.”
He hung up.
I didn’t feel victorious.
I felt tired.
Elias came at six.
He saw my face.
“What happened?”
“Calder moved.”
“Good.”
“It’s over.”
“I know.”
“So what now?”
He stepped closer.
“Now we see,” he said.
“See what?”
“If six o’clock is enough.”
I looked at him.
“It is,” I said.
“Then we stay.”
We did.
October 19th.
October 20th.
October 21st.
Every day at six.
No more storms.
But the quiet after was louder than before.
Because now it had a name.
Us.
October 22nd.
I was pruning when he came in.
He didn’t say hi.
He just took the shears from my hand.
Set them down.
Took my hand.
Led me to the cot.
Sat.
Pulled me down next to him.
“Vesper,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I’m not going to ask you to wait anymore.”
“Okay.”
He kissed me.
For real this time.
Not rain. Not fear.
Choice.
When he pulled back, he said,
“I’m staying.”
I believed him.
Because after the storm,
Everything grew.
*END OF CHAPTER 6*
- Writer
