I zipped up the raincoat I’d bought at the Virginia border and scoffed at the umbrella from the same store. Like that was actually going to help. Then I pocketed my cell phone in the water-resistant pocket of the jacket. It was a gamble, but I wasn’t going to chance missing his call if Jackson could get through.

God knew it had only been his voice and steady, calming presence that had gotten me through Avon. I hadn’t felt alone in those terrifying miles.

The truck doors were sheltered from the worst of the wind because of the garage, and I got the driver’s door open easily. The steps up to the front door were slick, and though the house was now blocking the wind, there was no quieting the sound of rending metal as the gutters ripped from the house.

Keep going. She’s right here.

I made it to the deck and then pounded on the door. “Finley! It’s Morgan! Open the door!” I waited what seemed like an eternity before starting again.

Finley opened the door and looked up at me with wide eyes.

I scooped her into my arms and slammed the door shut. The house was dim.

“Morgan?” She clung to my neck. “You’re all wet!”

I’ve got her, Jackson. I made it. She was here, and safe, and alive. Now I just had to keep her that way.

“Hey, Fin.” Taking a selfish, extra moment to hold her tight, I pressed a kiss to her hair, then put her down. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“I thought you were gone!”

“I was, but I heard you needed some help, so now I’m here!” I smoothed back her hair from her face. “Take me to Grandma, would you?”

She nodded and led me through the entry, past the dining room, and into the living room, which was only lit by three small, exposed windows that topped ones that had already been boarded up.

“Hi, Vivian. How are you feeling?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

“Morgan?” Vivian was in the same position as when I’d called last, but she struggled to sit.

“No, don’t move. I came to take you guys to my house.” My eyes darted around the room, looking for something that would keep her leg stable. “Fin, honey? Why don’t you get dressed”—Juno wound herself through my feet—“and pack up the menagerie. We’re getting out of here.”

“Okay!” Fin took off upstairs.

“I’m not leaving.” Vivian stared me down with a look of authority that might have gotten me about five years ago. “I stayed during Irene, and I’m staying now.”

“Can I see your leg?”

She pulled back the blanket and lifted the hem of her shorts.

That sucker was broken, and if I had to guess, it was in multiple places.