Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Yeah, it was just Rosey Williams on the bus. I’ve taken her off.”
My heart sinks.
Fuck. Rosey. I have no idea if she knows how to prep for a tornado. I can’t imagine there are many tornadoes in Oregon. Does she even know about the shelter by the cabins, or how to use a weather radio?
There’s no way she can be on her own in the cabins. I glance at the darkening sky. Hart and I put the chest down and I say, “Actually, there are a couple of things I’m going to need from the cabin. I’m going to head down into town.”
It’s the easiest decision I’ve made today. There’s no way I’m going to leave Rosey on her own.
I step outside to find rain has started to fall. The staff emptying cabins are being called into the main building. This isn’t the main storm, but there’s no point in carrying stuff in this weather. The people of the Colorado Club are in good hands. But I need to get to Rosey.
By the time I get to my truck, I’m soaked to the skin. I slide into the driver’s seat, wipe the water from my face and head down the mountain. As long as there are no fallen trees, I can get to her before the real storm hits.
I hope.
FOURTEEN
Rosey
All anyone has talked about at work today is the weather. The bus doors open and part of me wants to ask the driver to turn around and drive me back to the Club. But I can’t. I have to make sure Athena’s safe. She’s an independent little thing, but she always comes home last thing at night.
The rain is so heavy, I can barely see the outline of the cabin. And apparently, this isn’t the storm everyone’s worried about. I like rain. I’m from freaking Oregon—rain runs through my veins. But the look of worry shadowing the locals’ faces today has me on edge.
I hope Athena is curled up on the porch. I learned my first day with Athena that I can’t keep her in the cabin all day. She clawed my leg and shot out the door when I showed up after my shift the first day I left her at home. She’s not a cat who can be shut in. How she ended up in the cat carrier, I have no idea.
The short walk from the road to the cabin leaves me drenched. I don’t think I’ve ever been so wet. Athena normally comes from nowhere to circle my legs before I have my key in the door. Today, there’s no sign of her. I scan the porch, but I can’t see any huddled-up bundle of white fluff anywhere.
“Athena!” I call. “Kitty cat!” I doubt she can hear me. The rain on the roof of the porch hits like a hammer on granite. I check the time on my phone. I wonder if Snail Trail is still open? I could use some rain boots. I glance up at the sky. No, rain boots aren’t going to help. I need a freaking canoe.
All of a sudden, my stomach turns over. What was I doing, coming down here? I should have stayed up at the Club. At least I was with other people there. What happens if the tornado lifts the roof off the cabin? I might get buried under a pile of logs.
If I’d been at home, my mom would be telling me what to do. She probably would have told me to stay at the Club. I’m not used to ordering food at a restaurant and I’m not used to deciding where to ride out a tornado. I look out into the black sky. It’s too late now to head back to the Club. The bus turned right around when it left me. Nerves tumble in my stomach. I don’t know what I was thinking coming down to look for a stray cat.
Athena’s probably safely tucked away somewhere—maybe even the home she escaped from. If she could see me, she’d be licking her paws with disdain, contemplating what a fucking idiot I am.
The shuttle bus is long gone. Maybe I could get a cab? I’d feel terrible bringing someone out here in these conditions, especially since they’d be returning down the mountain alone. I’ve left everything too late.
I just need to do the best I can. Nothing left for it now but to go inside and try to get warm.
I peel off my coat and hang it on the back of the door. “Athena!” I call again, just in case I locked her inside this morning when I left. She’s used to her name and usually saunters toward me when she hears it. Maybe she needs a little incentive. I grab her cat food and put some in her dish. “Athena!”