Harold's POV
I wasn't fazed by the storm warning. "Level-eight storm? That's nothing."
We'd weathered far worse conditions before—this was child's play compared to what we'd faced.
Alan's expression shifted. "Nothing? Harold, sure, you might be willing to risk it, but what about Phoebe? You think she can handle getting tossed around out there?"
Despite all her strengths, Phoebe still had a petite build. The violent ocean swells would be brutal on her.
The moment Alan spoke those words, I slammed the car door I'd just cracked open and stayed put. I glanced at Phoebe, seeking her input. "What do you think? Should we wait for the weather to clear?"
Instead of replying, Phoebe simply shoved her door open and climbed out. "A little wind and rain never hurt anyone. We're leaving now."
She strode off without a backward glance.
I rushed after her, leaving Lucas and Alan staring in shock.
