Page 7 of Brought By the Storm

Chapter Six

Eric

I emerged from my room just as the door to the guest room opened. Though it was dark in the hallway, I could make out that the shadowy figure approaching me was Carrington. He had taken the time to throw a robe over his pajamas. If I hadn’t been concerned about the source of a loud noise, I might have been more focused on the fact that I was walking around in a T-shirt and sleep shorts. I was always shy, and being half-dressed when someone else was over-dressed wasn’t a comfortable situation for me.

“Did you hear that bang?” I asked him.

“I did. Do you think your house is secure?” he whispered.

I shrugged and started down the stairs, Carrington on my heels. Once I was on the first floor and wouldn’t disturb the other guests, I turned on some lights. “I think it came from the backyard,” I said, looking to Carrington, who appeared more uneasy than I did. I walked to the French doors that overlooked my enclosed patio and flipped on the exterior lights. “Shit.”

“What is it?”

I wiped a hand over my face, not happy with what I saw. “A tree fell on my patio fence. It brought down a panel and it looks like the whole structure could be compromised. I wonder if it cracked any of the patio pavers. That tree may have to be cut up by professionals. It’s huge.”

“At least it missed the house,” he consoled. “It could have been worse.”

He was right. If the tree had fallen in a different direction, it would have hit the room where Olivia was sleeping. I couldn’t imagine how horrible that would have been. Still, my sinking heart saw the inconvenience and the repair costs. “Well, the night’s still young,” I mumbled.

“Hey,” he whispered. I was still staring at the mess that was my patio. Carrington touched my shoulder, and I turned to his compassionate stare. “It will be okay.”

“I have a $2,500 deductible,” I complained. I could tell he didn’t know what I meant. This wasn’t a rich person’s problem.

“Perhaps Stefan and I could help remove the tree,” he offered.

I laughed. “Dude, I don’t think you realize how much work cutting up that tree will be.”

He looked perplexed. “Dude?”

“Don’t focus on my American phrasing right now. I’m too upset.”

He gave me a slight nod. “Of course. My apologies.”

The windows were doing their best to protect us from the driving rain and vicious winds, but their rattling was making me nervous. “Maybe we should move away from the glass,” I suggested. We walked to the kitchen, which had one small window over the sink.

“I’m amazed that the others can sleep through this,” he observed, looking back toward the bellowing French doors that lined the rear wall of the family room.

“Has Stefan always been a sound sleeper?”

Carrington looked surprised by my question. Did it cross a line to ask? It had been an attempt at small talk. “Um, yes. I guess.” Even though I had the overhead lights at the lowest dimming position, I could see Carrington blush. Perhaps people of proper society didn’t share details regarding a partner’s sleep habits. Before I could contemplate further, Carrington’s stomach rumbled, which elicited a deeper blush from him.

“Are you hungry?”

Carrington shook his head ‘no.’ “It’s the middle of the night. I don’t require replenishment.”

“You didn’t have much at dinner. I felt terrible watching you settle for a few vegetables.”

He shook his head ‘no’ again, but a slight smile confirmed that he was just being polite. “Carrington, please. Let me get you something.”

“You have much bigger worries,” he interjected.

“None that can be addressed now. Your hunger, however, can be. I’m sure I can find something that you can tolerate.” He was about to protest, but I held up a hand to silence him. I opened the refrigerator—most everything inside had some type of meat or dairy, other than eggs.

“Want fried eggs? I’m trying to think how I can prepare them without butter,” I mused. If I had known of Carrington’s limitations when I was still in the grocery store…

“Don’t cook anything,” he implored. “It’s too late to go through that effort.”

I started to rummage through the cupboards and spotted a large bag of ready-made, butter-free popcorn. “Do you like popcorn?”