“I chose not to drown with my child in my car.” I snapped, then immediately regretted it. His grip tightened around the gun, like he was going to raise it and shoot me. But I knew he wouldn’t, not even after everything. He stepped forward, stopping just out of reach.
“Get out,” he said plainly.
“What?” My stomach dropped.
“Get out.” His voice sharpened, cutting straight through the storm. “You can’t shelter here.”
His words hit my chest like he’d shoved me in it, and the rejection stung. I stared at him, water dripping off my lashes, my hands shaking around my son’s little shoulders.
“Mom, do we have to walk again?” Dae-Dae asked as the wind slammed against the building. The stairwell shook and rattled me. There was no way I was taking my baby back outside in that storm.
“My baby is wet and cold,” I said, and my voice cracked in a way that pissed me off. “You want me to take him back out in this?”
His eyes flicked to my son again—our son—and something softened in them as he cursed under his breath. “I’ll take y’all.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I’ll take you and your son to a shelter.” The words sounded like they hurt him to say. “I was just heading out. My disdain is with you, not the kid. I’ll drop you off and?—”
“But the shelters are full,” I cut in. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. I could tell he was thinking, and that gave me a certain level of ease.
“We’ll drive until we find one.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the window beside me blew open, and the board ripped loose, causing glass to scatter across the floor.
“Get back!” KO barked, and my body moved before my mind did. I turned, grabbing Dae-Dae and pulling him into my arms. Cold rain slapped me across the back.
“Stay behind me.” He shoved me further back with one hand as he planted himself in front of us like a wall. He hated me, but he still moved to protect us.
“Okay.” I clutched my son tighter and backed into the stairwell corner. KO dropped the gun at his waist and got to work covering the window. I watched as he grabbed a board from the wall and slammed it over the broken window. Windpushed against him hard enough to make him brace his feet. I couldn’t believe that the wind was already this strong. This was just the outer bands. Hurricane Imani hadn’t even made landfall yet.
Both of our phones buzzed with a loud siren, and I knew what it meant without even looking. Flood warning. I looked down through the broken space in the boards. Sure enough, water was now covering the roads. My stomach dropped as the realization hit that we weren’t making it anywhere. I was going to be stuck here with KO. He slammed the board into place, and the hammer slipped.
“Fuck!” KO barked, jerking his hand back. A thin line of blood ran from his finger, not bad but enough to make me wince.
“Dakota—”
“Don’t,” he snapped, not even looking at me. “Get him upstairs. There are no windows up there.”
“But you?—”
“Go, man,” he ordered just as another window down the hall shattered, making wind and rain tear through the lower level.
“Shit!” he cursed under his breath and grabbed another board. I started up the steps with Dae-Dae but hesitated halfway up. I walked away from him while he was bleeding once. I wasn’t doing that again. I turned back, sitting Dae-Dae down in the stairwell.
“Stay right here, baby. I’m going to go help,” I told him. “Do not move.” He nodded, and I stepped forward and grabbed the loose end of the board KO was fighting with. He shot me a look.
“I told you to get upstairs.”
“You needed help.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” I rushed out.