Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Holy fucking shit.
“Tell me you have my daughter!” I shouted.
“Jesus, Jax. Stop yelling. Of course I don’t. You told me I couldn’t bring her to L.A., remember?”
I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it like this might be an error. “Where. Is. Finley?”
“I left her with Mom. Hi, yes, I’m Claire Lewis.”
I froze. Me, the guy with the lightning reflexes and the great judgment. The one who never got into a situation I couldn’t get out of. I fucking froze.
“Jax, are you there?”
“That hurricane is headed straight for them.” My voice shook with the effort to not scream at her.
“Pssh. Don’t worry so much. Mom has lived through every major hurricane, and she said there is nothing to worry about. Besides, it’s already been downgraded from what I can tell. They’ll stay inside. It’ll be fine. Stop overreacting.”
“I’m not fucking overreacting! You left our daughter with your mother on an island in the middle of a hurricane and you want me to what? Calm down?” I paced the small confines of my room.
“God, have you always been this angry? I had your windows boarded up and secured your house, Jax. Everything is fine.”
Rage filled every cell in my body. “I don’t give a fuck about the house! I want my daughter safe!”
“I don’t have to sit here and listen to you yell. We’re not married, remember? Finley’s safe, Jax. You didn’t grow up there. I did. Everyone freaks out, buys all the bottled water, and then the storm passes, we clean up, and move on. Your job has made you paranoid, baby. Now, I have to go. My car just got here.”
“Go to hell, Claire.”
I hung up.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Morgan
Bury me at West Point, would you? My mom is going to say I should be in Alabama, but I belong at West Point. I’m asking you because I know that out of everyone I trust, you’re the strongest, the most capable of picking that fight, and I need you to.
I slipped into my dress and tugged the zipper up my side. It was a navy-blue sheath with a boatneck collar and three-quarter sleeves. Classic. Demure. And exactly what Will would have wanted me to wear to his Medal of Honor ceremony.
I clasped my pearls around my neck and applied minimal lip gloss.
The ride from our hotel—just south of D.C.—to the White House would take over an hour, so it wasn’t like I couldn’t reapply in the car if my lips got dry. I’d foregone mascara for the good of everyone.
My FaceTime rang, and Finley’s picture popped up. Now there was a reason to smile.
“Good morning, Fin,” I said as I rested the phone against the bathroom mirror.
“Hey, Morgan!” She waved, her hair a riot of curls against her pajamas. Guess I was ready pretty early.
“What’s up, buttercup?”
“Not much. You said call when I want, right?” Her eyebrows rose in question.
I glanced at the clock—plenty of time. “I sure did. How does Juno like the road?” I asked as the tabby settled herself in Finley’s lap.
“She hates it here.” She shrugged.
“Travel is hard on kitties.” I took the phone into the room and sat on my bed.
“He peed on Grandma’s shoes this morning, but she doesn’t know yet. She’s already mad about her leg,” she whispered. “That’s why I’m upstairs.”
I blinked. “I thought your grandma didn’t want to evacuate?”
“She didn’t! She says we’re safe.”
“What do you mean we’re safe?” Nausea hit me hard. From what I’d seen on the news reports, Vivian’s place was anything but safe. They’d pulled out all emergency workers, shut down the hospital, and were preparing for landfall in the next twelve hours.
“I’m at Grandma’s, silly!” She grinned. “She said we’ll get to watch the water rush under the house and everything.”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
“You’re on Cape Hatteras?” I tried to keep my face as relaxed as possible.
“Yep! Mommy had an audition, so she went to L.A.”
My jaw dropped before I managed to close it. “So it’s just you and Grandma?”
“Yeah, but she’s downstairs.” Her voice dropped to a whisper again. “She fell off the ladder a little bit ago. It’s so windy.”
Mercy, God. Please, mercy.
“Is she okay?”
Finley pursed her lips, then sighed. “It took forever to scoot to the couch.” Her face fell. “She told me to go upstairs and play because it hurt so bad.”
My thoughts raced. “Okay, I want you to take me to her. Go downstairs and take the phone.”
“I’ll get in trouble!”
“No, you won’t. I promise. Go.”
She sighed but did it. The phone bounced at different angles as she plodded down the steps.
“Grandma? Morgan wants to 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?”