The Night of the Hurricane
Noah · Ongoing · 6.7k Words
Introduction
Her apartment was flooding, she said. Could my brother drive over and take her to a hotel?
In my last life, I felt sorry for her, and I let him go.
The next morning, Brielle Hart held up a torn lace slip
and sobbed that my brother had assaulted her.
He was eighteen, a college freshman, and nobody believed a word he said. The university suspended him.
Somebody spray-painted RAPIST across our garage door in red.
Brielle used the outrage to squeeze my family for a ten-million-dollar settlement. She got hired on full-time, too. She got my job.
She made a point of coming by to rub it in.
"Sloane, I really owe you. None of this would've happened if you hadn't sent Wyatt to pick me up that night."
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night the hurricane made landfall.
Brielle's message had just popped up in the channel.
My apartment is flooding. The rain is so bad I can't get a single car to come.
Sloane, is there any way your brother could help me out and drive me to a hotel?
My brother was already reaching for his keys. I put my hand over his
and typed:
My brother's staying put. I'll call 911 for you right now. Houston Fire has high-water rescue teams for exactly this.
Chapter 1
At eleven o'clock on a hurricane night, the new intern posted in the company Slack channel asking for help.
Her apartment was flooding, she said. Could my brother drive over and take her to a hotel?
In my last life, I felt sorry for her, and I let him go.
The next morning, Brielle Hart held up a torn lace slip
and sobbed that my brother had assaulted her.
He was eighteen, a college freshman, and nobody believed a word he said. The university suspended him.
Somebody spray-painted RAPIST across our garage door in red.
Brielle used the outrage to squeeze my family for a ten-million-dollar settlement. She got hired on full-time, too. She got my job.
She made a point of coming by to rub it in.
"Sloane, I really owe you. None of this would've happened if you hadn't sent Wyatt to pick me up that night."
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night the hurricane made landfall.
Brielle's message had just popped up in the channel.
My apartment is flooding. The rain is so bad I can't get a single car to come.
Sloane, is there any way your brother could help me out and drive me to a hotel?
My brother was already reaching for his keys. I put my hand over his
and typed:
My brother's staying put. I'll call 911 for you right now. Houston Fire has high-water rescue teams for exactly this.
——
Chapter 1
The channel went quiet for a few seconds.
Then Brielle sent a voice memo.
Water was rushing in the background.
"Sloane, I didn't mean anything by it."
"Rescue crews must be slammed right now. I don't want to take them away from people who really need them."
"I just figured you live close, and your brother's such a good driver. I only need a ride to a hotel nearby."
Somebody jumped in to back her up.
You can't even get through to 911 in a hurricane. If we can handle it ourselves, we should.
Sloane, didn't your brother just win the state off-road championship last month? Driving through some water is nothing for him.
Seriously, that lifted pickup of yours is made for weather like this.
I replied:
There's a flash flood emergency in effect.
My brother isn't a rescue crew, and a pickup isn't a lifeboat. If something happens on the road, who's responsible?
Brielle smoothed it over.
Sloane's right. I didn't think it through.
I'll figure something out.
I thought that would be the end of it.
Then she added one more line.
If I'm not at work tomorrow morning, could somebody please call the police?
That was when our boss stepped in.
He sent a long voice memo.
"Sloane, you're the operations manager. Looking out for new hires and keeping staff safe is your job."
"Brielle just moved to Houston. She doesn't know anybody, and now she's trapped. What's the big deal about your brother making one trip?"
"If you can't handle something this small, how is the company supposed to trust you with anything big?"
My brother heard it on speaker and stood up fast.
"I can just go, Sloane."
He was a college freshman. There was still a kind of clear, trusting light in his eyes, the kind you have before you learn what people are capable of.
I held his hand down.
"Sit."
"But your coworker said her place is flooded. She can't stay there."
I looked at him.
"Even if it's really flooded, it's not your problem."
I opened the channel again.
My brother has other plans. He can't go.
Brielle, if you're actually in danger and you don't show up tomorrow, I'll be the first one to call the police.
Silence, for a second.
Then a coworker posted a single question mark.
? Sloane, isn't that a little cold?
A whole row of question marks followed.
My boss called me out by name.
Sloane, you'd better be ready to stand behind that! If anything happens to Brielle, it's on you!
Then Brielle posted a photo.
The hardwood floor was completely underwater. A pink slipper floated by the bed, and the bottom of the mattress was soaked through.
Please don't blame Sloane.
It's crazy out there. She's just worried about her brother.
It's okay, I'll wait a little longer. Maybe the rain will let up soon.
That set everyone off.
How is this rain going to let up anytime soon?
Sloane, you live in a mansion in River Oaks. You have no idea what it's like for those of us who rent.
Your brother's just giving somebody a ride. Nobody's asking him to swim.
My dad heard the commotion and came out of his study.
"The wind's too strong out there. Don't let Wyatt leave the house."
In my last life, he'd said exactly the same thing.
I didn't listen.
I kept thinking about Brielle, a girl fresh out of college who'd come all the way from Oklahoma to make it on her own in Houston. That couldn't be easy.
Later, strangers camped out in front of our house. They hung banners, sprayed red paint across the garage, and pointed at my parents and called them the people who raised a rapist.
My parents had always been so dignified. That day they were pelted with rotten eggs. My dad clutched his chest and went down in the driveway, one hand reaching out for help.
I would have given anything to take it back.
My soft heart was what had ruined my family.
My phone kept buzzing.
When I didn't answer, my boss tagged me again.
Sloane, the board picks the Gulf Coast regional director next week!
This company doesn't promote people for seniority. It promotes people who show leadership and take responsibility.
If you can't even handle a problem with someone on your own team, why would the board trust you with the whole Gulf Coast?
I took a breath and typed carefully.
What I'm doing follows our hurricane emergency plan to the letter.
Brielle, send me your exact address, building, and unit number. I'll call 911 and get a rescue crew to your door.
She answered quickly.
Never mind. It's fine.
I'm renting a garage the landlord converted without a permit. It isn't registered with the city.
If the fire department shows up, he'll definitely kick me out.
I just graduated. I really can't afford to find a new place.
My coworkers felt sorry for her.
Brielle's having a hard enough time. Sloane, stop hiding behind procedure.
I was the one making it hard for Brielle?
Had any of them stopped to think that her asking this of me was what was making it hard for me?
I always thought Sloane was good to her team. Guess it was an act.
It's one small favor and she's just going to stand there and watch. So selfish.
Poor Brielle, getting stuck with a manager like that.
I laughed under my breath.
If you feel so bad for her, go pick her up yourself. My brother isn't leaving the house.
I sent it, locked my screen, and stopped answering.
I'd already decided. They could push as hard as they liked. If it cost me the job, fine.
Then, a second later, my brother's phone lit up.
An Instagram DM.
Somehow Brielle had found his account.
The message was one line.
Sorry for causing so much trouble.
My brother held up his phone.
"She messaged me."
I took the phone and blocked her.
"She seems pretty polite," he said quietly. "She doesn't seem like a bad person."
I looked him in the eye.
"Wyatt, listen to me. When someone's really in danger, they find whoever can actually help them."
"It's only the ones who want something that go around everyone else to get to you."
He blinked. I could see him thinking it over.
I steered him into his room.
"From now on, you stay in here. You don't set foot outside this door."
"Got it?"
"Got it."
His bedroom door closed in front of me.
I finally let out the breath I'd been holding.
My eyes stung a little.
This time, I wasn't going to let anyone hurt my brother or my parents.
But the next morning, I'd barely walked into our building when someone in the lobby shouted:
"Oh my God! Brielle's going to jump!"
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