" I’m still in the big Jacuzzi tub when the power flickers--once, twice--and then goes out, leaving me in total darkness, chin deep in lukewarm water. I don’t know why, but it all hits me then--Nan’s surgery tomorrow, shooting that moccasin, this stupid, never-ending storm. I start to cry, deep, gulping sobs. I know it seems childish, but I want my daddy. What if things get worse? What if the house starts to flood? Or the roof blows off? As much as I hate to admit it, I’m scared. Really scared.
A knock on the bathroom door startles me.
“Jemma? You okay in there?”
“I’m fine,” I call out, my voice thick. My cheeks burn with shame at being caught crying in the dark like a two-year-old.
“Do you want a candle or something? Maybe a hurricane lamp?”
“No, I’m…” I start to say “fine” again, but a ragged sob tears from my throat instead.
“It’s going to be okay, Jem. We’ll get through this.”
I sink lower into the water, wanting to disappear completely. Why can’t he just go away and let me have my little meltdown in private? Why, after all these years of being a jerk, does he have to suddenly be so nice?
“I got both dogs dried off,” he continues conversationally, as if I’m not in here crying my eyes out. “They’re in the kitchen eating their supper. I think Beau’s pretty worked up.”
I continue to bawl like a baby. I know he can hear me, that he’s right outside the door, listening. Still, it takes me a good five minutes to get it all out of my system. Once the tears have slowed, I reach for my washcloth and lay it across my eyes, hoping it’ll reduce the puffiness. A minute or two later, I drag it away and wring it out before laying it over the edge of the tub.
It’s still dark inside the bathroom, though I can see a flicker of light coming from beneath the door. Ryder must have a flashlight, or maybe one of the battery-operated lanterns I scattered around the house, just in case. I wonder how long he’s going to stand three, waiting for me.
The lights flick off, and I think maybe he’s finally left me in peace. But then I hear a muffled thump, and I know he’s still out there, probably sitting with his back against the door.
“Hey, Jem?” he says. “You saved my life, you know--out there by the barn. Most people couldn’t have made that shot.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, but tears leak through anyway. I hadn’t wanted to kill that stupid snake, but if it had bitten Ryder and we hadn’t been able to make it to the hospital in time…
I let the thought trail off, not wanting to examine it further.
“Thank you,” he says softly. “I owe you one. "

― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)