“It’s not the Ritz, but it’s safer for now,” he reminds me. Another groaning and snapping sound from outside making me jump.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, ushering me through the door and flicking a switch so I can find my way down.
“Where are you going?” I gasp, suddenly terrified at the thought of being alone.
“Bathroom. And to grab a few things. I’ll be like two minutes,” he tells me.
“I’m coming with you,” I protest.
“To the bathroom?” he asks, raising both brows before patting my head. “Just get down there and make it cozy will ya? There are some blankets and a big old couch we can lie on,” he instructs me.
“Be careful,” I add, not liking it when he turns to go.
He’s right though. Ben’s always right.
The not-too-small space looks like a concrete bunker. Neatly stocked with solid metal shelves that have everything from dehydrated food and rows of bottled water, to a huge couch with a table and chairs, a big flat screen, and more boxes stacked from floor to ceiling than I could count.
It’s warm too, not cold or damp like I imagined it.
True to his word, Ben’s back in no time and has another gas heater under one arm, which he hooks up to a nozzle in the floor by the wall.
“We’ve got filtered fresh air down here too, so we won’t suffocate if the door’s closed,” he adds.
Not something I was even worried about until you mentioned it. Thanks.
The gravity of the whole situation hits me, and although I’ve never felt it, I suddenly feel very claustrophobic.
“Can’t we just stay upstairs?” I ask, an edge to my voice.
“We can leave the door open, no need to barricade ourselves in here,” he suggests, making me feel a little better.
“Hey?” he asks tenderly, coming over and taking me by the elbows. “We’re gonna be okay. I’m just being Mr. Safety is all.”
“Once this storm passes, we can breathe a little easier, maybe even have some fun that isn’t you watching me track a storm on a computer, alright?” he asks gently, rubbing my arms and I stab a nod.
“I just feel so—” I try to tell him.
I don’t know how I feel. Except that the most wonderful thing has happened to me at the same time the most serious thing is happening around us.
“I’m scared, Ben,” I confess, grateful when he takes me into his huge arms again, sharing his warmth and kissing my head as he tells me not to worry.
In no time he’s set my mind at ease again, making a little camp for us both on the huge couch, even he can fit on it with me and there’s room to spare.
He props his laptop on his knees and brings up a smaller version of everything he was looking at earlier.
“It’s boring, I know. But I kinda have to do this,” he explains, but I don’t mind.
I snuggle closer to him on my side, hooking my arms around one of his and watch him work until I can’t keep my eyes open.
Returning to my favorite dream, I tumble helplessly into the deepest, most satisfying sleep I’ve ever had.
Chapter Ten
Ben
I could watch her sleep all night. And I almost do.
This storm, it’s worse than even the department predicted. With all their up-to-the-minute satellite predictions, it shifts and changes so often, so quickly, that by the early hours I’m glad we came down to the basement.
The ranger station is designed to withstand a category five hurricane, wildfires, and catastrophic earthquake, but I don’t mind saying I have my doubts more than once when I hear what’s happening upstairs from down here.
Once I know Stacey’s asleep, I ease myself from our comfort and shut the door to our little bunker, if only to block out some more of the terrible noise from above.
There’ll be more work than ever once this does pass, and I wonder how I’ll manage to keep her here for longer.
It’s selfish I know, but I want her here from now on and like that first kiss, I know when I do claim her properly, there’s no turning back.
No going home to her dad.
She’s mine and I want her here, with me.
It pains me to even think it, but I know I’ve made the right choice. It’ll hurt Greg like nothing else, save when he was left alone all those years ago with his only daughter, a tiny baby girl.
As if by sixth sense, my inbox chimes.
An email from the man himself.
I hate to admit it, but my face changes. I feel it furrow into a knot at the thought of hearing from him. Knowing full well I’ll have to face him about Stacey and me, even though she’s convinced we could try to go on pretending.
Like he’d never find out.
Yeah well, Greg. Thing is, Stacey just decided late last night that she wants to move to the middle of fucking nowhere and utilize the spare room at the Ranger Station. Whaddya think?