Jukai

Chapter 5

Louisiana Southern

Nicole hunter 

As Terry settled me into the passenger seat, I kept trying to escape, reaching for the door handle, calling out for help—knowing full well no one would hear me in this storm. My voice was useless against the roar of the rain.

Eventually, the warmth of the truck's heater started to chase the cold from my bones. I sank back, shivering as my clothes clung damply to my skin, heavy and uncomfortable.

I glanced over at Terry. He was staring out at the storm, jaw clenched, rain streaking down the window like it might never stop.

"Let's be honest," he said, turning his head just enough to meet my gaze, those sharp ocean-blue eyes unreadable. "We're not exactly fond of each other."

"I can't abandon you out here," he continued, his voice too calm. Too steady. "You won't last long on your own in this."

That was the plan, I thought bitterly. I didn't want to be found. If I disappeared in this hurricane, maybe they'd think it was an accident. That I was just one more name on the news. No one needed to know the truth.

I barely registered his next words. His lips moved, but they blurred in my vision. My thoughts were loud. Overwhelming. When he spoke again, louder, frustrated, I snapped back.

"Are you even listening to me?"

I just nodded. I couldn't bring myself to speak.

I collapsed deeper into the seat, my limbs too heavy to move. All the fight in me was gone. I didn't even have the strength to get out. I just wanted to disappear.

The rest of the ride passed in silence—except for the hum of the engine and the steady pounding of rain on the roof.

I must have dozed off. The slam of the truck door startled me. Terry had gotten out and was already grabbing my bags. I followed slowly, legs unsteady.

By the time we reached his porch, the dizziness had returned, my head swimming. I barely registered the front door swinging open.

He stepped inside first, then motioned for me to enter. I lingered at the threshold as he disappeared into a back room without a word.

I stood awkwardly in the living room, dripping and unsure of what to do. A moment later, he returned with a change of clothes.

"I brought you something dry. Can't have you ruining my furniture," he muttered, handing the bundle to me.

"Thank you," I murmured, clutching the clothes.

"Bathroom's down the hall. Right side," he added, his tone sharp.

I hurried off, about to ask if I could shower, when his voice followed me—gruff, dismissive. "Yeah, you can shower. I don't care."

He didn't even glance back before heading upstairs.

Typical Terry. That attitude of his only fueled the fire of how much I disliked him.

But the bathroom was nice. Cozy. Warm. For a guy with no sense of humor, he had decent taste.

I stripped off the wet layers and stepped into the shower, the hot water washing over me like a balm. For the first time in hours, maybe days, I felt like I could breathe again.

When I finally emerged and slipped into the dry clothes, my body felt lighter. I padded quietly back down the hall, pausing as something caught my eye.

The walls were lined with framed photographs—Terry's family, his time in the military. I studied them one by one. He didn't smile in any of them. Always serious. Always stiff.

That was the problem between us. He couldn't take a joke. Not when we were kids, not now. We'd bickered like siblings back then—me teasing, him snapping. But still... we spent a lot of time together.

I walked into the kitchen, drawn by a soft noise. Terry stood at the counter with his back to me.

"Thank you... again," I said quietly.

He turned slightly, nodded once, and placed a plate in front of me. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Classic Terry.

I sat down at the island and took a small bite.

"Once this rain stops, I'm heading out," I said, my voice low but firm. "You don't have to worry—I won't be staying."

Terry didn't respond. He just stared out the window, then muttered without turning around, "Just be quiet, Nicole."

His voice was tired. Defeated. "This rain's not stopping anytime soon. Hurricane's still pushing through, and the tornado warnings are still active."

Then he walked away. The faint sound of a television hummed from the other room.

I sat alone in the kitchen, the sandwich untouched.

I have to get out of here.