Free The Storm (Fairhope) by Laura Lexington

let that sexy voice out of its cage at local venues. He literally had phone numbers thrown at him from the seasonal and tourist crowds, but everyone local knew to suppress any naughty thoughts, too afraid of Grace and her famous outbursts to make a pass at what belonged to her.
    “You can’t.” I hogged a bite of my delicious hamburger. “Scrumptious.”
    “Guess it’s me cuddling with my bullet tonight,” she muttered under her breath where Andrew couldn’t hear, pulling the pickles off her burger.
    “You’ll survive,” I replied. “While you’re sipping wine and soaking in a bubble bath, remember he’d rather be tangled up with you than rescuing some woman, even if she is young and pretty. He will always come home to you.”
    “When he proposed, he said the one thing you don’t have to chase is true love.” She blushed, her gaze lost in the twinkling stars that spelled beauty in their own letters. “How could I say no to that? I don’t deserve him.”
    “Don’t say that, Grace.” Were those tears in her eyes?
    “I don’t, Jana.” A strangeness fell over her, but I couldn’t describe it. “He’s so…unreal. With Gavin, the lines are blurred between making love and having hot sex. Nobody else ever made me feel that way, you know?”
    “Especially not a bullet,” I teased.
    The laughs the three of us shared that night, the sound of love and friendship dancing with cold beer and country music would always be something I remembered—the plans we charted for our futures, Baby Cooks and Baby Miltons included, long days boating in Orange Beach and baseball on Saturdays. There was no way I could have forecast the turmoil brewing in the background of our lives underneath the stellar architecture of our Fairhope night sky. If someone told me how the stars would disjoin and all of our lives would be thrust into a tailspin that only God could grip to a screeching halt, I never in a million years would have believed it.

 
     
    ANOTHER MORNING LITTERED with gray clouds and scattered thunderstorms marked my next field ride with Jeff. The day before, I had a new prescription filled. Now, I stared at the new pill that battled nausea waiting for me on my dresser, debating whether to take it or not. I decided its side effect of somnolence was better than vomiting and gulped it down with a glass of ice water.
    I tackled the steps of dressing in slow motion. I frowned at my reflection, groaning as I realized I needed to add maternity clothes shopping to my already ridiculous to-do list. Baby Cook had taken up residence and blown up my abdomen. Listlessly, I ran my faithful Chi through my dry hair, hoping to fight the inevitable frizz that accompanied stormy weather.
    I pecked Andrew and pushed myself out the door to face the day.
    “I love you,” he called out as the door slammed behind me.
    The weather became increasingly inclement as I sailed closer to my destination. I switched my windshield wipers up a notch as the rain began to pound harder. Lightning cracked and thunder rumbled, shadowing the clouds with the darkness of a nine o’clock PM sky. Why was it always raining? I longed for the orangey sunshine and blueberry violet skies that lived in my childhood memories.
    My cell phone started ringing loudly, its first soft tones hidden under the deafening storm. Dangerously, I fumbled around on the passenger seat, groping until my fingers clasped my phone. Chris.
    Ah, if only I were still working under him. At that point, I would have considered the major pay cut of going backward in exchange for a peaceful working environment. My relationship with Jeff had been nothing less than awkward since my big announcement.
    I jerked my wheel back to the right after swerving irresponsibly due to my mindless searching. No wonder so many people thought talking on cell phones in the car should be illegal. “Chris!” I answered brightly. “How are you? I’m sorry it’s loud—it’s storming here.”
    “I’m