It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)

“Oh my God.”

She had to breathe in and out slowly so she wouldn’t throw up.

Brendan was very good at his job. Smart. The most capable, confident man she’d ever met. There was no way something could happen to him. Or Fox and Deke and Sanders. They were big, strong, God-fearing fishermen. There was no way, right?

Henry’s laughing face sprung to her mind. Right on its heels, Mick’s voice filtered through her thoughts. And that Bering Sea water is so damn frigid, there’s only a minute’s window before it sucks the breath right out of a man’s lungs.

Not Brendan. It wouldn’t happen to Brendan.

Getting her legs to carry her into No Name required effort, but she made it, leaning back weakly against the wall. It took her a moment to realize Hannah was throwing on a sweatshirt. “Hey, Shauna asked if I could pop down really fast and help close up the shop. I should be back in ten minutes.” She stopped short when she saw Piper’s face. “Are you okay?”

“It’s a typhoon. Coming in from Alaska.”

Hannah laughed as she threw her messenger bag across her chest. “You sound like a meteorologist. What even is a typhoon?”

“A tropical cyclone,” Piper said robotically. “A rotating, organized system of clouds and thunderstorms that originates over tropical or subtropical waters.”

“Oh shit.” Understanding dawned in Hannah’s eyes. “Ohhh. Shit.”

“He’s going to be fine. They’re going to be fine.”

“Of course they will.” Hannah hesitated, then started to take off her bag. “I’m going to stay here with you—”

“No. Go go go.” Her laugh was high-pitched. “I think I can handle ten minutes.”

Her sister was dubious. “Are you sure?”

“Totally.”

Neither one of them had any idea how bad a storm could get in ten minutes.

Rain lashed the window so hard, Piper moved to the center of the bar for her own safety. The wind sounded like it was inside with her. With a growing sense of dread, she watched more and more people run for cover in the street, eventually clearing it completely. Thunder rocked the ground, followed closely by jagged twists of lightning in the sky.

Piper fumbled her phone in her hands, finding Hannah in her favorites and dialing. “Hey,” she said as soon as her sister picked up. “I think you should stay where you are, okay?”

“Shauna says the same. How’d it pick up so fast?”

“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes. Brendan had been in this same storm. Fast. Furious. “I’m fine here. Just stay in a safe place and don’t move until it lightens up. All right, Hanns?”

“Okay.”

Piper hung up and paced a moment, her stride hitching when the electricity went out.

She stood there in near darkness and acted on one of the most foolish instincts in her life—and Jesus Christ, that was saying something. But she couldn’t stand there and think and worry and speculate. She had to move . . . and she wanted to be near Brendan the only way she could. So she locked the door of No Name behind her and started running in the direction of his house. It was only a three-minute drive. She’d be there in five if she sprinted. And then she’d be safe. And maybe being close to him would keep him safe, too, which was a ridiculous notion, but she clung to it hard and pounded the pavement.

Thunder boomed at her back, propelling her on, her sneakers sodden after only two blocks thanks to the rain coming down in torrents now. She turned two corners and ran down a narrow street that seemed semi-familiar? On the night of their date, she’d been too preoccupied to notice any of the street names. But then, there it was. Brendan’s truck, parked in front of his house, looking as sturdy and dependable as its owner.

Relief swamped her, and she kicked into a fast sprint, the teeth of his house key biting into her palm. She ran up the path and unlocked the door with pale fingers, her teeth chattering, and fell over the threshold in a heap, kicking the door closed behind her. And then the storm was nothing more than muffled rumblings, her own harsh pants drowning it out.

“Hello?” Piper sat up and called out, because it seemed like the thing to do. Maybe he’d gotten back early and just hadn’t come to see her yet. “Brendan?”

There was no answer.

She used the hem of her shirt to dry the rain from her face and stood, moving through the still, warm house while wind whipped against the windowpanes, rattling them. Was this a stalker move? That worry had her chewing her lip, but he’d given her a key, right? Plus, there was something so inviting about the house, almost as if it had been expecting her. His scent lingered in the air of the living room, saltwater and man.