Chapter 2

Brandon's POV

The morning after the hurricane passed, the entire neighborhood lost both water and power.

The rainwater that flooded into the apartment last night through the broken sliding doors had pooled across the living room floor. But even worse was that Timmy's face was red and flushed from the chill and horrible fright from last night, and his breathing had become very rapid.

I reached out to touch his forehead and realized in shock that it was alarmingly hot. I quickly checked his temperature and saw that he was burning at 100.7 degrees.

A newborn baby's fever was a serious medical emergency, and I panicked instantly. Sweating profusely, I dragged my swollen, inflamed leg around the apartment, frantically searching for fever-reducing cool patches in the flood.

While searching, I also called Taylor with the last bit of battery in my phone.

"Sorry. The number you have dialed is not available. Please try again later."

The robotic voice echoed loudly in the destroyed living room, but I refused to give up and continued calling her again and again.

I ended up calling her 20 times that morning, and all I got was just the robot voice in return.

The roads outside were completely flooded and filled with fallen trees and other debris. I didn't have a car with me, and my leg was also badly injured, so there was no way for me to trudge through the floodwaters with my feverish newborn in my hands.

Left with no other options, I used the last bottle of mineral water to wet a clean handkerchief and repeatedly wipe Timmy's forehead, palms, and armpits in an effort to cool him down.

Sweat soaked through my clothes, and the wound on my leg that just started scabbing over tore open again with my constant moving around, making me bleed.

I kept counting down the seconds in my mind, fear and despair gradually creeping into my head.

It was nearly noon when the front door finally opened. Taylor appeared in the doorway, completely drenched and looking tired and weary.

"Honey, the weather's just terrible outside. The whole area is flooded…"

She continued complaining as she changed out of her wet shoes into dry ones. I noticed that she never brought any supplies back with her—there was no food, no water, and definitely no battery packs.

Yet, she was carefully cradling an expensive-looking thermal food container in her arms.

She finally saw the mess in the living room and the bloody bandages on my leg. She stopped in her tracks. A hint of panic finally showed in her eyes, and she quickly hurried over to me.

"Honey? What happened to your leg? And why is the place such a mess?"

I sat by the bed and refused to look at her. I just continued wiping Timmy down with the wet handkerchief.

"You said that it was too windy to come back last night. Then, why didn't you come back in the morning? And why was your phone turned off?" I asked.

Taylor's eyes flickered. She instinctively hid the food container behind her and said rather guiltily and sheepishly, "The winds died down in the morning, but George told me that he had such a fright the whole night that he couldn't manage to eat anything.

"I thought it was really hard on him to bring up a toddler on his own, so I went all the way to Westend to buy him his favorite seafood chowder from his favorite seafood restaurant…

"They still had power there, but there were just too many people waiting in line for their food. My phone ran out of battery. I really didn't mean to leave you behind like that, honey. You have to believe me."

I stopped wiping Timmy down and glanced at the food container. Then, I suddenly chuckled.

A hurricane had just hit us, all the traffic in the vicinity was at a standstill, and everywhere was flooded at least up to the waist.

And yet, my wife trudged halfway across the city in the floodwaters on foot just to buy George his favorite food, not even caring that there was no way for me to contact her at all after her phone battery died.

Meanwhile, I was dragging my bleeding leg around the apartment, desperately watching over our feverish newborn without any water or electricity and failing to call her at least 20 times.

"Don't get upset, honey. I'm back now, aren't I?" Taylor said, coming over to me to hug me.

I took a step back and calmly pointed toward the door.

"The chowder's getting cold. Go and send it over to him."

Taylor froze on the spot. Finally, she blurted, "Did you really have to be so sarcastic about it, Brandon Hooper? He's my sister's widower!"

I ignored her and simply turned my back around, continuing to check Timmy's temperature instead.

Strike one.