One

One, two, three, four, five, si—BANG.

Annie pulled the covers tighter around her shuddering body as the thunder outside rolled like a freight train. It sounded as though it was close enough to kiss, but it was actually about a mile away.

Lightning flashed so bright she could see the jagged mercurial line through the fabric of her curtains, and she began a new count.

One, two, three, four—BOOM.

Less than a mile away now.

You could tell how far away a storm was by counting the seconds from the lightning strike to when the thunder occurs. Take the number of seconds and divide by five. That’s roughly how many miles are between you and certain disaster. Aaron taught her that, just before he’d left for Texas.

Just before he’d left her alone in this house. Alone to run Red Cap. Alone for the holidays. Alone for regular days. Alone, alone, alone.

She sighed, remembering her brother’s harsh words.

“Annie… almost thirty years old and you have no plan for your life. You don’t date. You don’t make friends. You’re content to live in this house with me and cook your life away. You’re satisfied with a pointless existence and I want better for you.”

“It isn’t pointless,” she’d huffed. “I take care of you, Aaron. Who would cook for you if I didn’t? We’re partners, you and I. We always have been. It’s kind of how twins work.”

He shook his head sadly. “No, Annie. It’s time for us to live. We have to let go of what happened with mom and dad, and find ourselves. We both need this. I leave tomorrow.”

Tears pricked her eyes. He was serious. “I don’t!” she insisted, her curls slapping her face for how hard she shook her head. “I don’t need this. I need things to stay the way they are. So don’t say ‘we’. Call this what it is. You want to leave me. You want this.”

Aaron bent low, his blue eyes meeting hers. “I don’t want it. I need this, sis. And so do you. You’ll see. In time you’ll see.”

It was the last time she’d spoken to her twin. For the past five years she’d received a card at Christmas, but he never talked about what he’d done during his time away. Or when he was coming back.

Electric cracked the sky again, fracturing it into so many pieces she couldn’t count them all. Thunder boomed immediately, echoing through the house that was entirely too big for one person.

She’d grown up here, and loved it. But by herself, it was lonely. Memories weren’t enough to make it a home.

In the years since Aaron left, Annie had grown a lot. She managed the bar and grill on her own. Kept up the house on her own. Made a couple friends that she trusted with her life. Made a name for herself in Cedar Valley as the woman to call when you needed good food. She’d grown the family business—which technically was now a one woman business—enough that she could live comfortably, even putting back a portion for Aaron in case he ever needed it.

And she’d done it all on her own.

Some days she felt as badass as Punk, but most days she felt like she was shriveling. She wasn’t meant to be alone. It was against her nature. She wanted—needed—someone to care for. To share life with. To swap secrets and dreams with. Someone to care for her in turn.

But dating wasn’t really something she was good at. She was busy. She was naïve, and maybe a bit picky, and a little chubbier than most men preferred, and more sensitive than was acceptable, and...

Oh, she’d gone over all the reasons why the good guys didn’t want her until she’d mostly given up on finding someone to love.

And the worst part was somehow she knew Aaron wasn’t coming back until she’d moved on. Until she’d made a life for herself. He didn’t want to be her family; he wanted her to get one of her own.

It hurt. It hurt so bad.

She swallowed back a sob, determined to not shed a tear over her brother. There’d been enough of that the first year.

The rain outside fell in such force that it battered her bedroom window until the pane rattled like a leaf in the wind.

So, it looked like the term ‘forty year old virgin’ would be in her future. She was half a decade off. Five years before they could make a lame movie about her. She hadn’t given up on love though. Not completely. It wasn’t like she didn’t have desires. Needs. She did. She just… couldn’t do anything about it.

Not yet anyway.

She had a plan. The plan wasn’t currently working out so well. But there was still hope.

Annie huddled tighter under her blanket and let her mind drift to him. They called him Blister but she wondered what his real name was.

She’d first seen him at the speedway months ago. He was standing with his scarred side toward the wall, and he was so handsome he took her breath away. She might’ve even drooled, but without a doubt, her hormones got up and did the Macarena. When he moved, showing the side of his face that was twisted with scars… her heart clenched.

What was his story? Was he different, outcast like her? Had life been unkind to him, taken from him, as it had her? Did he have love in his heart to give but no one to accept it? Like her.

She was determined to find out.

Even as a child, Saturdays were spent at the track. Back then, they’d gone as a family but after Aaron left, she’d kept up the tradition. Alone. Until she found Ella. And then they’d dragged Punk along, and it became their thing. They were the Three Musketina’s of the dirt track.

Helping Ella with her car was fun for Annie. It gave her something to do besides work. But even better, it allowed her plenty of time to see Blister. Always from afar, but eventually she came up with an idea. One that could benefit Ella and allow Annie to get to know the man who stuck to the shadows.

Only things hadn’t gone according to plan.

How was she to know that her friend had a connection to the Dirt Track Dogs. More specifically that Ella was Blister’s niece. She couldn’t have guessed a coincidence like that. Especially since Blister and Ella were practically the same age.

But Annie didn’t let that distract her. She’d just rearranged plans. Tweaked a few things.

Now Punk and Ella might as well be married to members of the club, and Blister had managed to avoid every attempt she’d made to get to know him. She was no closer to him, and more alone than ever.

In the past, when a storm like this came, she might call the girls and offer them a place in her storm shelter. They’d pop popcorn and watch movies on her laptop until it passed. But they didn’t need that now. The dogs had a shelter.

The wind whipped outside her window, and the crack of a tree branch made her jump.

Sitting up, she checked her phone. The electric had gone out an hour ago, but she still had cell service. Red flashed on the screen. Tornado Warning for Cedar Valley and the immediate area.

Annie frowned. She hadn’t heard the sirens.

A thunderous noise jolted her into action as something heavy hit the roof above her head. Grabbing her phone and the water bottle from her bedside table, she ran downstairs for her jacket and a flashlight. She jammed her feet in her rain boots, grabbed a throw from the back of the couch, tucking it under her coat, and ran out the back door.

It was only a quick sprint to the underground safe room. But with the wind and lightning crackling everywhere, it was a struggle to get across the yard without dropping things. She dodged tree branches that had swung loose from the Oak in the back yard. And, crap… was that a shingle?

Shoving the door open, she said a quick prayer that her house would still be standing when she came out, and stumbled down the stairs, throwing her blanket and phone on the padded bench her dad had put there years ago. She struggled with the door, pushing against the wind, but finally she managed to get it shut.

Annie stood in the middle of the cellar, letting the water drip from her coat. She fumbled with the flashlight until she could get the emergency shelter light going and the small heater pumping warmth into the place.

She was freezing. She’d been in such a hurry she hadn’t bothered putting on pants.

“Ughhh.” Her shoulders slumped as she shrugged off her soaked jacket and hung it on a utility hook to dry.

Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she settled on the bench to wait out the storm.

Alone.