Page 77 of Tracked
“How do you mean?”
“The storms in Phoenix, they’re ... empty.” It took me a minute to decide on the right word. “Maybe it’s the desert or the dry heat, but the thunderstorms always feel like they come from a place of desperation. Like they’re trying to draw something from nothing.”
“And here?”
I sucked in another breath, tasting the particles of pre-storm energy on my tongue.
“Here, they come because nature is ... too full. Full of energy and charge and power. Too full to contain, so it has to be set free.” I exhaled, closing my eyes as I added, “Don’t tell Callum. I’m sure he’ll disagree. My theory isn’t backed by science.”
“Callum would disagree even if it were,” Calder replied ruefully. “Another example of something too full of ... energy to contain.”
Taking another deep breath, I confessed, “I miss this. The storms. The energy in the air. It’s like ... breathing in lightning. Energizing and grounding at the same time.”
I was rambling, but I didn’t care. Like the storm, I had too much pain bottled up inside to hold it all in.
“Not even nature can carry it all.”
My pulse stumbled. We were talking about the weather—the quintessential superficial conversation starter. Except nothing about this felt superficial or quintessential at all.
“Yeah,” my voice cracked.
“Do you miss Phoenix?”
No.The thought came unbidden.
“I don’t know.” And I didn’t want to talk about this. So then why had I brought up Arizona in the first place?Because I couldn’t carry it all, either.
“When do you have to go back?”
“Take the time for what it can be, Lara. Until the lawsuit is settled, we can’t have you here anyway.”
“I don’t,” I said, unsure whether my voice had ever sounded so small.
His head cocked to the side, and I could feel the rush of energy in my direction.
“What do you mean, you don’t?”
My breathing sped up, carrying me like a runaway train back to those moments. Those split-second, life-changing moments that day in the emergency room. The sounds. The machines. The screams.
A shudder racked all the way along my spine, trembling the truth up to my lips.
Maybe it was the storm’s crescendo. Maybe it was the vastness of Wyoming, which promised to swallow me up and rock me in its mountainous cradle. Or maybe it was just Calder. His steadiness laid like bedrock around me, silently promising to withstand the excess of my own storm if I would just let loose.If I would just trust him.
“I don’t know if I still have a job,” I said, annoyed that I sounded purposely evasive, but on the inside, it felt like I was trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle with my eyes closed and a noose around my neck, tightening with every connected piece. “I won’t know if I still have a job until the lawsuit is settled.”
I closed my eyes, wishing it was raindrops and not tears that dangled, cold and merciless, onto my cheeks. I hadn’t talked to anyone outside the hospital—couldn’t.Hipaa. Hospital policy. Lawyers.
But here . . .
“What happened?” His low voice carried from behind me. Just like the heat of him did.
Another bolt of lightning shredded the sky. Closer now.
“Someone died.” The words were wrenched out. “Because of me.” The pain, the guilt, almost took me to my knees.
He was quiet, and then I felt the warm grip of his palm on my shoulder, directing me to turn toward him.
“Tell me.” There he was. The gorgeousdirector. Except I didn’t hear a command from his lips, but a promise:Let me help you carry this.
