Page 33

Chapter thirty-three

Elliot

I had just finished lacing up my boots when my phone rang.

The sharp buzz against the kitchen counter made my stomach clench, even before I saw the number. Bad news always came this way—sudden, uninvited, tearing through whatever plans I’d made like it had a right to.

I picked up without thinking.

“Hart,” my supervisor’s familiar, gruff voice barked.

“Morning,” I said, not really feeling a chipper greeting.

“Tornadoes touched down all across the city last night. City’s a mess. Reports coming in of structural damage, downed lines everywhere.”

I exhaled through my nose, already feeling the weight of the job settling onto my shoulders.

“How bad?”

There was a pause. “Bad enough. We need all hands.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.

“Got it,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I hung up and stared at my phone for a second.

Then I sighed, dragging a hand over my face.

Mike.

I’d planned to see him tonight, on finally spending some time together after two days of settling back in, after two nights of sharing a bed but being too exhausted to do much more than sleep. We’d both been looking forward to it. I was fairly certain Mike had arranged a trivia date with the gang.

And now—

I grabbed my jacket, already dreading the day. Storm season sucked.

Mike picked up after two rings. “Hey, you. Didn’t expect to hear your voice this morning.”

His easy warmth made my chest tighten.

I inhaled slowly, leaning against the counter. “I—the storms did a number on the city.”

Mike went quiet. I heard the shift in his breath, the slight pause before he spoke again.

“What’s going on?”

“Tornadoes,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Hit hard. They need us out there for emergency work.”

Another beat of silence.

I braced myself for frustration, disappointment—maybe even anger, but when Mike spoke again, his voice was quiet.

“How bad?”

I closed my eyes briefly. Too bad. Too fucking bad.

“Whole grids are down,” I said instead. “Lines ripped up, poles snapped in half. They keep talking about burying cables to prevent all this, but you know how government works. It’s . . .” I exhaled. “It’s gonna be a long day or two, maybe week.”

Mike was silent for a moment. Then—

“Be safe, okay?”

That was it.

No guilt, no complaint, no “but we had plans” protest.

Just “be safe.”

Something in my chest cracked wide open.

I let out a slow breath. “Yeah. I will.”

“Good,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice, even through the worry. “You’d better.”

I swallowed. “I’ll call you when I can.”

“I know.”

And just like that, I wasn’t so damn tired anymore.

The drive to the station was quiet, my mind already shifting into work mode. I’d done this too many times before to feel nervous—but there was always a tension in my gut before a storm job.

Storm work wasn’t like normal line work. Normal line work was routine. It was controlled.

Storm work?

That was unpredictable.

Dangerous.

You never knew what you’d walk into until you were in it. And it didn’t help that rain refused to relent. Gray skies blanketed the city, thick and angry, as if Mother Nature wished to spread her gloom across the land.

By the time I pulled into the yard, the crew was already gearing up. Floodlights cast long shadows over the trucks, illuminating the swarm of linemen hauling equipment, loading up spools of wire, strapping down the heavy-duty gear we’d need for emergency repairs.

Rodriguez spotted me first. He jogged over, already dressed in his safety vest, helmet tucked under one arm. “About fucking time you got here.”

“Yes, mother.”

He snorted and held up a fist for a bump.

Rodriguez’s eyes shifted. “Half the city’s in the dark. We’re looking at seventy-two hours straight.”

I exhaled. It could be worse.

It could always be worse.

“Better get moving then,” I said.

Rodriguez clapped me on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

And just like that, I shoved everything else—the exhaustion, the quiet ache of missing Mike, our stolen moment on the phone—down.

Because now?

Now it was time to work.