The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory)

by Rebecca Yarros

  “So, in effect, would you say that this is a perfect storm, of sorts?” the anchor questioned as the reporter was hit with another wave.

  “He’s going to get knocked on his ass,” Garrett noted.

  “Exactly. Hatteras has ordered all residents to evacuate, but we’ve been told that as many as fifty percent of the residents have not. All hospitals have been evacuated to the mainland, the ferries have shut down, and the bridges are only open to outgoing traffic. The residents here are being told that emergency services will not be available, and the governor has warned them that they are putting their lives at risk.”

  “Shit,” someone cursed behind me.

  “And yet this dumbass is standing out there,” Sawyer added.

  My foot tapped impatiently in my boot, and I’d decided the pressure in my chest wasn’t going to ease up until we knew that Vivian had made it out.

  “And we’ve heard that some streets are already flooding?” the anchor prodded.

  “Yes! The low-lying areas are already taking on water, and as you can see, the sea is rapidly advancing!” He leaned back into the wind.

  “Ryan, we’ve just gotten news that Ingrid has been downgraded to a three,” the anchor announced.

  There was a small sigh around the table, but it wasn’t big. The difference of a couple of miles an hour in wind speed wouldn’t mean as much as that storm surge.

  “That’s great—”

  A wave slammed into both the reporter and the cameraman, sending them sloshing down the pier.

  “We told you,” Sawyer said at the television, like they could hear us.

  I followed Patterson out of the conference room. “Sir, you cannot expect those of us with families to sit here.”

  “I don’t. I expect you to do your jobs. Jerry is still—”

  “Jerry has been downgraded to a one, sir. Are you telling me that you think we’ll be effective at rescuing people here, knowing our families are in danger at home?”

  His jaw flexed. “I’m telling you that until Jerry’s path is certain, I can’t do anything. Now, your daughter evacuated, right?”

  “Yes, but not her grandmother.”

  “I can’t do anything about that, Lieutenant.”

  “This is complete and utter bullshit. I don’t care if you think Elizabethtown has this covered. It’s bullshit,” I snapped.

  His eyes narrowed, and I knew I’d overstepped but couldn’t find it within me to give a shit. “There’s nothing I can do. Replacements are on their way, but until they get here or Jerry dissipates, no one is leaving this island. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  I left him standing in the hallway and headed for my room, trying to calm down before I called Fin. The last thing she needed was me to worry her. Maybe she didn’t even know Vivian had stayed.

  Once my pulse settled, I propped my phone up at the back of my desk and reached to dial Finley.

  Claire rang through instead.

  “Hey,” I answered, putting the phone to my ear. “I was just getting ready to call Fin.”

  “I just checked on her—they’re fine,” she said, sounding out of breath.

  “What do you mean you checked on her?” I snapped.

  “Relax. I mean I called and checked in. That one’s mine!” she called out.

  My stomach hit the floor. “Claire, what the fuck is going on?”

  “I got a call for that sci-fi show! They want me!”

  I sucked in a deep breath and counted to three.

  “Please tell me that you’re not in L.A.”

  “Just landed and got my bag. They said I could only have the role if I was here and ready to film this morning, so I caught the red-eye out of Raleigh.”

  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?”

  “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 head.

  “What would you do if it were Peyton?”

  Paisley sucked in a breath.

  “I can’t leave her. I won’t sit here and do nothing.” I tossed everything else I saw into the suitcase and swung my purse over my shoulder.

  “You’ll blow away! The winds are already throwing reporters left and right!” There was enough panic in Paisley’s eyes to make me pause.

  “Darlin’, I have a seven-thousand-pound truck, and we’re not talking a tornado like that one—” I pointed at Sam.

  “Hey, now.”

  “Now as much as I love you, you’re just taking time.” I zipped my suitcase closed and hoisted it to the floor.

  “I’ll come with you,” Sam said.

  “You cannot!” Paisley shouted.

  “I’m sorry? If Morgan’s driving into a hurricane, she at least needs someone riding shotgun!”

  I took in her beautiful black dress and perfectly done hair. “No, she’s right, Sam. You are needed here.”

  Sam narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Tell her,” Paisley huffed.

  “Grayson was given leave for the ceremony. His plane lands in about an hour. He’ll be waiting for you at the White House.”

  Sam’s jaw dropped. “What?” she asked softly.

  I nodded. “Go. You only have two days with him, and you’re not wasting them driving to North Carolina, so go.”

  She was torn. It was all over her face.

  “I’ll be fine, Sam. Go be with Grayson.” I hauled my suitcase through the door.

  “But what about the ceremony?” Paisley followed me down the hall.

  I hit the elevator button and turned around. “I think this is exactly what Will would want me to do today. In fact…I think this is why he left the truck to me.”

  The doors opened, and I got into the elevator, then punched the button for the bottom floor. “I love you, Paisley.”

  “I love you, Morgan!” she cried as the doors shut.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jackson

  My bag was packed. There was nothing else I could do but wait and think myself to death.

  I sat on my bed with my back against the headboard, uncaring that my boots were leaving footprints all over my bedding.

  Finley w
as at Vivian’s.

  Vivian had most likely broken her leg, if not her entire hip.

  No one could get to them.

  Hastings had flown the birds to safety, and Christina was already in Tennessee with family. Everyone else I knew was here.

  The hurricane was due to hit in four hours.

  Replacements were on their way. It wasn’t like we could leave the people here without aid. Logically, I knew that. Emotionally, I was clawing at the sides of my cage, cursing my own inability to protect my daughter.

  My phone rang, and I startled. The power had gone out in Buxton an hour ago, and I’d told Fin to conserve her battery.

  Wait. Morgan?

  “Morgan?” I swiped the phone to answer. Shit, today was the ceremony, wasn’t it? Was it still the same day?

  “They shut the Virginia Dare Bridge!” she shouted. “How do I get over the sound?”

  My heart beat just a little softer with the sound of her voice. God, I missed her.

  “What? Kitty, it’s really fucking loud. Are you in a car wash?” Why was she asking about the bridge?

  “No, I’m not in a car wash! Why the hell would I be in a car wash? They shut the Virginia Dare Bridge, Jackson. I drove an hour out of my way because I knew the others were already closed, but now this one is, too. How do I get over the sound?” she shouted.

  I sat up straight. “I know you didn’t ask what I think you just did.”

  “Cut the shit!” she yelled.

  “Kitty, please tell me that you’re in D.C. with your friends.” My chest constricted.

  “I can tell you that, but I’d be lying. Jackson, I need to get across the sound. Please, it’s already so bad out here.”

  My eyes slid shut, and I pulled the phone from my face as I fought for control. No, God. Not Morgan, too. No.

  “Jackson!”

  “You turn around and go inland. Those bridges are going to be hell, and the storm surge is already at the high tide line. Fuck, I don’t even know if you can get across the Oregon inlet bridge if you do make it across the sound, so please, Morgan. Please do not do this.” She couldn’t know, could she? How would she?

  “I’m not leaving without Finley, and Vivian can’t move.”