Chapter 22: Storm-Proof
The skies were kind all week—bright and blue, warm as Bea's voice in the morning. But Nova knew better. Peace never stayed long. And sure enough, by Thursday, the winds came.
Dark clouds curled like fists overhead.
Rain hit the half-finished roof with sharp taps—like old ghosts knocking to come in.
Nova stood at the window frame, staring out.
"We haven't sealed it yet," she said.
"We will," Bea answered, pulling a tarp over the wood stack outside. "But even if we didn't…"
She turned, eyes fierce.
"This house is storm-proof. Because we are."
---
Flash of Lightning
The first crack of thunder split the air like a scream.
Inside, they scrambled—closing toolboxes, covering exposed wiring, grabbing buckets for leaks. But there was no panic. Just motion. Just teamwork.
Nova laughed breathlessly. "This is wild."
Bea grinned through soaked hair. "It's life."
The lights flickered, but the fireplace still burned.
They huddled beside it, blankets draped over their shoulders like cloaks. Kings of their own ruined castle.
"Think we'll make it?" Nova asked.
Bea reached out, threading their fingers.
"We already are."
---
Midnight, After the Rain
Drips echoed through the skeleton of the house, but the wind had quieted.
Nova moved through each room like a mother checking on sleeping children. She found Bea upstairs, staring at the ceiling where a beam had cracked.
Bea touched it, then whispered, "We'll fix it tomorrow."
Nova came up behind her, arms sliding around her waist.
"You sure?"
"I'm not scared of storms," Bea said softly. "Not anymore. Not since you."
---
The Next Morning
Sunrise spilled gold across the soaked floor. A rainbow curved over the field like a promise.
Nova picked up her pen and wrote across a beam with a sharpie:
> Let the wind come. We were never meant to be delicate.
Bea added underneath:
> But we were always meant to be