The storm hit the ridge before Lainey's shift did, and the rain came down like it had a grudge against the town.
Ridge Road turned into a river, and her wipers smeared the dark around instead of clearing it.
The yard was black water and crooked fences, and the lamp over the door flickered like it was thinking about quitting.
Friday was two days away, and Vernon's voice was still in her ear, saying please like a bastard who already knew the answer.
Headlights dragged across the gravel at 12:20, and her heart did the stupid, hot, wrong thing it did now.
Lainey: Not tonight. Please, not tonight.
The wind shoved the door before she did, and Axton came in with rain in his hair and his coat black with it.
Axton: Ridge Road's gone. A tree took the ditch and half the fence with it.
Axton: Nothing gets up or down that hill tonight.
Lainey: Then why the fuck did you come out here?
Axton: Because your light was the only one on in this whole yard, and I'm not an idiot.
The lamp buzzed, flared, and died, and the office went black except for the little green clock and the rain on the glass.
She heard him move. Every hair on her arms stood up like it knew something she didn't.
Lainey: There's a flashlight under the counter.
Axton: I can see fine.
He was closer than the dark should have allowed, rain and something warm underneath it, and her pulse went loud in her throat.
His eyes dropped to her wrist, where the purple ring showed under her cuff, and she tugged the sleeve down fast.
He didn't ask. His jaw went tight enough that she heard his teeth.
Axton: You should have called somebody.
Lainey: I called Clover.
Axton: That's not what I meant.
Lainey: It's what I did.
Lightning turned the window white, and in that flash his hand was already up between them, frozen in the air.
His fingers were close enough that she felt the heat of them, one breath from her skin.
Her lips came open. She didn't step back. God help her, she leaned in.
His thumb moved, almost a touch, and then his whole body locked up like something inside him had bitten down hard.
He pulled his hand back and put the counter between them, breathing like he'd been running.
Axton: This is a bad idea, and we both know it.
Lainey: You're the one who drove out here in a storm.
Axton: Don't. Don't turn this into something it isn't.
Lainey: Then what is it?
Axton: A problem. That's all it is, and I've got no business standing in it with you.
It landed like a slap. Her face burned, and she was glad he couldn't see it properly.
He shoved the door open and the rain came in sideways, cold as a hand across the face, and he still didn't look at her.
Axton: Lock both locks. Don't open this door for anybody tonight, and I mean anybody.
Lainey: That include you?
Axton: It should.
The door banged shut, and his headlights crawled down the hill and got eaten by the rain.
She stood in the black office with her hand still half raised, like a fucking fool, wanting a touch that never came.
Her phone lit up on the counter, bright enough to hurt after all that dark.
Clover: Storm's knocking the power out all over town. My door's open. I'm not asking, I'm telling.
Clover: There's soup, the couch is still ugly, and the lock works. Get in your car.
Lainey looked at those two little lines of light and the rain crawling down the glass.
Something in her chest opened like a door.
A woman she barely knew had left a light on for her.
A man who wanted her had called her a problem and walked out into the storm.
Her keys were cold in her hand. Friday was two days away.
For one night, she had somewhere to go.