Page 81 of When We Are Complete

When I finally pull up to the festival grounds, it’s clear we don’t have long till the next storm hits. I scan the grounds for Kelly, and my breath catches when I see her. She’s fighting with a shattered section of the main stage, her gloved hands struggling to get a grip on the broken, icy beams.

I step out of the truck, the cold hitting me immediately despite my jacket. I try calling her name, but the wind rips thesound right out of my mouth, and I start to trudge toward her, each step slower than the last as I take in the destruction around me. The installations my team built—the hours spent cutting, sanding, securing every damn piece—lie scattered across the ground.

Pieces of the archway are buried in snow, tarps flapping uselessly against the wind, broken benches half-buried, splintered beyond saving.

It’s all in ruins.

Chapter 46

Jake

I keep walkingthrough the snow toward Kelly, who finally notices me, but her face doesn’t change, her eyes haunted as she goes back to struggling with the wreckage.

She digs her boots into the snow, pushing against a beam that refuses to budge. She’s putting her whole weight into it, straining against the cold and the storm as if by some miracle, she can will it all back together.

“Kelly,” I say, louder this time, but there’s a crack in my voice I can’t hide. She doesn’t look at me.

I wish she could see that she’s not alone. She never has to be alone again. If only she’d rely on me and let me help. I would do anything for her.Anything. I want to protect her. To fix this. I want to be the man she can always count on.

She looks at the wreckage lying around the field, the sounds of the wild ocean rising up behind us, her shoulders slumping. Snow catches on her lashes, and she blinks it away, staring through the destruction, lost somewhere I can’t follow.

Our gazes catch once more and she finally focuses on me. “What are you doing here?”

“Nora called me. She said she can’t get through to you. I tried to call you, too.”

She reaches into her pocket and then starts patting herself down. “Shit. I think I dropped my phone somewhere.” We both scan the ground but her phone is nowhere to be seen. I call it, and it’s no longer even ringing, going straight to voicemail. If she dropped it outside, it’s covered in snow by now.

“Can you tell Nora I’m fine?”

“I can call Nora, but I can’t leave you out here alone,” I say, reaching for her. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“I can't just leave.” She turns away and tries to pull apart the pieces of a splintered booth, but they’re lodged in the snow and ice.

I get close enough to touch her. I’d hold every broken piece of this festival together with my bare hands if it meant seeing that spark return to her eyes. But we both know there’s no time, no salvaging what remains of the festival installations. My focus needs to be on getting her indoors before the next storm hits.

“Kelly, this storm isn’t messing around. We need to get you home. I checked the weather app and there’s an hour or so, tops, before things get bad again.” I take another step forward, my hand reaching into the air just a few centimeters from her.

She shakes her head, leans back, widens the gap between us. “I appreciate you coming out here, but I have to try. I’ve still got some time before the next storm.”

Something cold settles in my chest that has nothing to do with the weather. “You have to see there’s no hope here. There’s nothing we can do before the next storm. But you don’t need to worry. We’ll rebuild. After the storm, we can see what’s left and make a plan—”

“I don’t need a plan!” she cuts me off, her voice rising with the wind. Her eyes are full of fire, despite the fact she’s shivering, and her dark hair whips around the alabaster of her face. “I need to do this. You’ll never understand.”

“Let’s get somewhere safe, please. You can explain it to me.” I glance up at the brewing clouds. Harbor’s Edge has seen its share of storms, and this has to be one of the worst winter storms we’ve ever been through.

“Safe?” she echoes, a hollow laugh escaping her lips. She finally stops her frantic activity to face me, a wild edge to her expression in the gathering gloom. “Do you even understand what this means?” She gestures to the broken installations all around. “Do you have any idea?”

The snow and wind batter me as I look at Kelly. Her cheeks are red from the cold, and snow clings to her hair, but she’s still the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Stubborn as hell, but so damn perfect.

I raise my voice over the wind, which has picked up, stronger than before, a frigid reminder of what’s to come. “I can try to understand later when we’re safe. There’s another storm front heading in. Come on.”

“I can’t just leave it all here.” Her voice cracks, as tense as the set of her jaw. “I’m a grown woman. Respect my judgment. There are deadlines and knock-on impacts from this that will derail the entire project.”

Frustration builds in me, but I try to keep my tone steady. “Kelly, there’s not much left to save right now. We can work on it later. There’s still time to rebuild once this storm passes.”

She digs in the snow and pulls out a tarp before shoving it over one of the damaged structures. “You don’t understand,” she says, and the way she looks at me hits hard. I’m just another obstacle in her way. “This was my chance to prove I can do something real, something that matters. I can’t just walk awaynow. Just go! Leave me, for God’s sake. I want to be alone. I don’t want you to see this.”

Her words cut deep, and I’m suddenly gripped by a familiar helplessness. How many times have I stood in front of my daughter, wanting to fix everything but the answers have never been more out of reach?

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