I held my breath as the ocean came into view, still angry and white-capped.

“How bad is it?” Vivian asked as I opened the sliding glass door. The wind blustered, but it wasn’t a full-on assault.

“I’m about to find out.” I glanced from my cell phone, noting the lack of bars, to Finley, who sat at my dining room table, playing with my iPad.

The deck felt solid beneath my feet as I walked toward the railing, where my knees nearly gave out.

The dune was demolished.

So was Jackson’s house.

My hand flew to my mouth when I saw the devastation. The pilings had completely collapsed, taking Jackson’s house down to the sand. That must have been the thunderous crack in the middle of the storm. Half of his home had washed away, leaving the rest like an open-faced dollhouse that had seen a war.

My heart ached for what he’d lost.

“Can I come out?” Finley asked from the dining room.

I whipped around and forced a smile to my face. “Not yet, Fin. It’s still pretty windy.” She wasn’t able to see the damage from where she stood, and I wasn’t about to break her heart.

I closed the door behind me and kissed the top of her head. “What do you say we put on a movie?”

She nodded, her eyelids already drooping with exhaustion as I set her up in the armchair so she wouldn’t bump Vivian, who took up the couch. There hadn’t been much sleep last night.

“Give me a couple minutes to check things out,” I said softly to Vivian.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Of course I was worried—she was in some serious trouble. I opened my front door and sagged with relief. This portion of the deck had made it, too, and the stairs were still there. Seaweed covered most of the steps, and there was a scent I couldn’t quite place that would probably have overpowered my senses had the wind not still been whipping.

My stomach sank. I didn’t need to trudge through the mud around the base of my house to check on my Mini Cooper.

It was lodged in the wall of the boathouse.

My garage door? Who knew?

There was no sign of Will’s truck.

We were good and stranded, and we weren’t the only ones. According to the emergency radio, Hatteras Island had been cut off when a stretch of NC 12 washed out south of Avon. It could take weeks to repair. Vivian didn’t have weeks…or even days. She needed medical attention now.

I looked up to the skies and assessed the ceiling. It was still overcast but safe for flight. We just needed a big enough signal.

In hushed tones, so I wouldn’t wake Fin from her well-deserved nap, I explained my plan to Vivian.