Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
I’ll have to head back downstairs and gather as much as I can from the still dry upper cabinets and a pot to boil water.
I should do that now.
Before it gets any more dangerous.
Instead, I pull up a search window on my phone and type in Theo McGuire’s name. In just a few seconds, I have his work number—he’s in charge of marketing for a fancy real estate firm and looks so handsome and happy in his staff photo, with his thick arm band tattoo hidden beneath a crisp blue button-down shirt.
Before I can think too much about the consequences, I hit the green button and bring the phone to my ear. I know he probably won’t answer at six p.m. on a Saturday in late November, but my heart races anyway.
This could be it, my last chance to say the things I’ve never had the courage to say.
I take a breath, my chest tightening as his deep voice rumbles in my ear, telling me he’s out of the office, but that I should leave a message and he’ll get back to me within two business days.
At the beep, I brace myself and say, “Hello, Theo. It’s Macy. Macy Mallard. I’m out at my uncle’s old cabin and things are flooding and just in case I don’t make it out, I…” I gulp. “I wanted you to know that I still feel the same way I did, when we were kids.” Tears pricking at my eyes, I hurry to add, “There’s never been anyone else, Theo. It’s always been you, and it always will be. I hope you’re happy and have a wonderful life. You deserve it. All my love, Macy.”
I hang up, summoning a sharp, high-pitched grunt from Pippa.
“I know that you don’t sign a phone message like a letter,” I say, dragging a hand through my wet, tangled hair. “I was nervous.” I curse beneath my breath, but I don’t regret the message.
It was scary, terrifying really, but it felt…right.
Now, if the worst happens, if I’m wrong about Uncle Clint not cutting corners when it comes to the structural integrity of the foundation, at least I can shuffle off my mortal coil without any regrets.
But I’m definitely not going out without a fight.
I dial 911 again and again. When I continue to be met by a busy signal, I do an internet search for the closest firehouse, hoping to bypass the middleman and go straight to the source.
But before the results can load, I lose service, going from two bars to none in the blink of an eye. A moment later, the lights flicker off, leaving Pippa and I in the dim gray gloom of the stormy November evening.
My heart sinks and my stomach tightens into a hard, fearful knot.
I hug Pippa closer, steadying myself. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay. But you’re going to have to use the puppy pad, lady. That’s non-negotiable.”
Pippa rests her chin on my thigh with a heavy sigh that vibrates her entire body.
“Same, buddy,” I agree. “Same.”
Deciding not to think about what I’ll do about the bathroom when the time comes—the second-floor toilet will flush as long as the well water keeps pumping, but who knows how long that will last—I prepare to head downstairs to gather supplies.
I try to focus on one thing at a time, not dwelling too much on the future or what’s going to happen when Theo eventually hears that message on Monday.
Whatever comes next, I’ll rise to meet the moment as best I can. It’s what I’ve always done. I just wish I’d had the chance to find out what it was like to tackle the tough times in life with a partner I love instead of all alone.
Pippa chooses that moment to utilize the fresh puppy pad with a furious stream that makes me sigh.
Looks like we both have a lot we’ve been holding in.
Chapter Three
THEODORE MCGUIRE
A man who’s been waiting for a sign.
And who just got it…
As soon as I hear Macy’s message, I launch into action.
I have friends at the Bad Dog fire department—good friends—but connections don’t matter at a time like this. When I finally get through to Jim at the lakefront firehouse, bypassing the clogged 911 line, he assures me he’ll get to Macy as soon as he can.
“But I’ll be honest with you, it’s going to be a few hours at least, man,” he says, the stress of the night clear in his voice. “We have people trapped in the development by the river and the water is rising fast. We have to get them out before we start sending teams to more isolated locations. It’s probably going to be morning, maybe even tomorrow afternoon.”
“I understand,” I say, and I do.
That development is packed with people. Macy is just one woman.