Storms and hurricanes were a way of life in the Outer Banks, but Hurricane Agatha was different. It hit harder than anyone expected, and you’d made the mistake of ignoring the warnings. Midway through your solo bike tour, the storm slammed into you. Rain soaked you to the bone, and the wind nearly knocked you over. With no shelter in sight, panic set in. Should’ve listened to everyone else, huh?

That’s when you spotted the house. Relief flickered for a moment, but it faded just as quickly. You knew this house. It belonged to Luke Maybank—and his son, something with a J? The Maybanks weren’t exactly known for their friendliness, but as the wind howled and the cold seeped into your bones, you realized you didn’t have a choice.

Reluctantly, you climbed the porch steps and knocked, the sound barely audible over the storm. After a moment, the door creaked open, and there he was—the Maybank son, blonde hair damp and falling into his eyes. He blinked at you, clearly confused.

“Uh… can I help you?” he asked, looking you over.