by Rebecca Rode
He slammed more books on the shelf, hiding the yearbooks behind them. He should shove them in the damp crawl space where they belonged.
Two hours since Lauren had left. Two hours, and she hadn’t even bothered to send him a text letting him know she was okay. He didn’t know why he was surprised. Lauren owed him nothing, and he’d pissed her off. She was probably back in Tulsa, uploading her footage to the studio’s server so it could air on the ten o’clock news.
The tornado had been a minor one, barely a blip on the radar for most native to Oklahoma. But Lauren had been upset when she left, and probably not thinking clearly. Her parents had been extremely cautious people, and they’d still ended up dead because of a simple Sunday drive.
Would Lauren disappear again, dooming him to another four years of uncertainty and trying to move on? She’d always been an unresolved thread from his past, threatening to unravel the whole tapestry.
He couldn’t do another four years like the last four.
Tanner swiped his car keys off the kitchen counter and stomped out to his truck. Updates from neighbors on his Facebook feed suggested the damage was localized to fields just outside the town boundaries. A mobile home had been destroyed, which seemed to be the worst of it. Luckily, no one had been inside at the time.
Tanner blasted country music as he drove toward the outskirts of town, his window down and the cool breeze tugging at his hair. The entire time they’d dated, Tanner had been intensely protective of Lauren. Maybe it was her small stature, or maybe it was the way she disregarded her own safety in favor of adventure. Reckless. She’d always been so blasted reckless. He’d nearly had a heart attack when she climbed the rickety—and incredibly high— water tower on one of their first dates.
But she hadn’t chased storms until that last month.
He cruised down an empty road with fields soggy from the storm, not even certain he was headed down the right path. And then he saw the first section of fencing collapsed on its side, a post yanked out of the ground.
The tornado had been here. That meant Lauren had been, too.
Debris littered the pavement, shards of wood mixed with grass and hay. A few soda cans and what looked like a shovel handle were strewn across the pavement. He slowed down, not wanting to puncture a tire, as his heart climbed into his throat.
She’d been storm chasing for years. Supposedly, she’d trained with professionals. Surely Lauren wasn’t stupid enough to put herself in a dangerous situation. Except storm chasing was always dangerous, no matter the safety precautions. Anger might’ve made her reckless.
Tanner kept driving. The road became even more cluttered with debris. He passed a barn missing half its shingles. Corn had been uprooted and littered the field and road. Half a mile down the road, he could make out the mobile home lying on its side, identical to the picture he’d seen on Facebook.
A glint of silver caught his eye, almost hidden by the tall prairie grasses. He slammed on his breaks, shoving the gear shift into park. A car was flipped upside down, the roof smashed and silver paint dulled by the mud peppering the body of the car. The front windshield was gone, the edges of the frame ragged with broken glass. And on the rear bumper was a Tulsa One sticker, nearly obscured by mud.
Lauren.
He threw open his truck door and stumbled to the car. She hung suspended from the driver’s seat, dried blood congealed in her white-blonde hair and streaked down her face and neck.
“Lauren!” Tanner yelled. “Please, God.” He pulled on the door handle and forced it open with an ear-splitting shriek of metal on metal, praying with everything in him that she was okay.
He’d just found her again. This couldn’t be how their story ended. A sob caught in his throat, and he struggled to think clearly. How was he supposed to let her handle grief in her own way when this was the result?
Tanner placed two shaking fingers to her neck, holding his breath as he prayed for a pulse. A faint flutter thrummed beneath his fingers, and he let out a strangled laugh. She moved away from his touch and groaned, the sound stronger than he had expected.
He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, then cursed when he found nothing more than pocket lint. He must’ve left it in the truck.
“Can you hear me?” Tanner knelt in the tall grass, trying to see her better. Looking at everything upside-down was more disorienting than he’d expected it to be. Should he run back for the phone, or make sure Lauren was stable first? The thought of leaving her even for sixty seconds was unbearable.
Lauren didn’t respond.
He glanced helplessly back at the truck, then carefully stuck his head inside her car, peering at the seat belt latch. Nothing obstructed it and the metal appeared intact. Hopefully it would unlatch just fine. The front of the car had been turned into a crumpled mess, but he could see most of her legs. Hopefully she could slip out without much trouble.
Time to call an ambulance. He pulled his head out of the car, ready to race back to the truck.
“Ouch,” Lauren whispered.
He let out a hoarse laugh, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I thought you were dead.”
“Tornado got the best of me,” she whispered.
“Yeah, well, I warned you not to go.”
She opened an eye, peering up at him with that clear, emerald green color he’d always loved. How were her pupils not dilated? Surely she had a concussion. It looked like her head had bled for a while.
“Are you going to get me out, or leave me here to rot?” she whispered.
“I’m going back to the truck for my phone so I can call 911. I don’t know if I should move you.”
She let out a grunt. Her fingers moved toward the seat belt buckle and she fumbled with the latch.
“What are you doing?” he asked in alarm.
“Getting out of the car.”
“We should call the paramedics and let them assess you first.”
“Don’t.” The word was stronger than her others had been.
“Laur—”
“I’m not on the station’s insurance for another thirty days, and I’m not wasting part of my inheritance on an unnecessary ambulance ride.” Her fingers found the release button.
“Stop!” He reached inside the car, his hand seizing hers.
“Then help me.”
Like it was so easy. “What if you have a spinal injury?”
“I don’t.” She slowly turned her neck first one way, then the other. She wiggled her fingers, and he could see her legs moving. “See? Doesn’t even hurt.”
“Yeah, I can tell. Okay.” If he didn’t help her, she’d release the latch and possibly injure herself. He scooted closer, bracing his weight on one leg while his opposite knee rested on the ground. “When I release this, you’re going to fall. But I’ll try to catch you.”
“That always was one of your special talents.”
“Apparently that particular skill has lapsed.” He swallowed, stretching an arm across her shoulders and gripping the seat hard to hold her back once the seat belt unlatched. He was a professor, not a jock who spent hours in the gym. But Lauren was tiny. “Are you ready?”
She raised her eyes heavenward, a clear sign of praying for patience, then nodded.
“Okay then.” He pressed the latch and the seat belt slid back as Lauren’s body fell forward. Tanner’s grip slipped, and he reached out with his other arm to catch her just before she fell against the steering wheel. Her feet scrambled underneath her, searching for something to stand on. For the first time, he noticed the deep gash in her leg, just above her knee.
“You’re hurt,” he said, some of the anger seeping through his voice.
Her feet found solid ground, and Tanner helped ease her out of the car. She tried to straighten, then stumbled, inhaling sharply when she placed weight on her leg.
“It’s cut pretty badly,” Tanner said. “You’re going to need stitches.”
She gritted her teeth. “It’s fine.”
&nbs
p; “It looks serious.”
“It’s a tiny cut.”
“Stop being so dang stubborn and let me help you.”
“It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” Lauren said.
Tanner winced. He was doing it. Again. Would he ever learn? He shook his head, disgusted with himself as much as Lauren. She was still grieving. And he needed to take a step back and let her, even though it terrified him. But first he needed to get her medical attention.
“Wait.” She shuffled over to the car, then reached inside and grabbed a camera from the floorboard. The lens was cracked, and one side of the camera had been smashed, probably when it hit the roof in the fall.
“Are you serious?” he said.
“I think I got some good shots. The memory card is probably still okay.”
Tanner rolled his eyes, then took the purse and laptop bag Lauren handed him as well.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”
Stubborn, reckless Lauren. He wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her limp the few feet back to his truck. Blood dripped from her leg with every step.
“I’m going to ruin your floor mats,” Lauren said.
He placed his hands around her waist and lifted her up into the passenger seat. Her waist fit perfectly in his hands, just like it always had, and he swallowed hard. “I can replace the floor mats.” He couldn’t replace Lauren.
“Thank you,” she said.
Tanner bit back the retort on the edge of his tongue. Lauren hadn’t purposefully hurt herself to spite him. “Your head’s stopped bleeding, but you need to have that and your leg looked at.”
“Insurance—”
“Stop being so dang stubborn.” He slammed her door shut and climbed into the driver seat. “I’m taking you to the hospital in Meadow Falls.”
“That death trap?” She let out a snort. “I’d be better off alone at home.”
“The hospital’s improved a lot in the last four years. The world didn’t stop turning just because you ran off.”
Lauren folded her arms and glared. “At least take me to urgent care. It’ll be a lot cheaper than the hospital, and it’s closer.”
“Meadow Falls is fifteen minutes away.”
“Sunset Plains—and urgent care—is ten.”
Tanner blew out a breath, then nodded. He made a three-point turn on the narrow road and headed back toward Sunset Plains.
“What happened?” he asked.
Lauren shrugged, then winced, gingerly touching her forehead. “The tornado turned at the last minute. I couldn’t drive fast enough.”
“You mean it actually got you?” His hands gripped the steering wheel as the inside of his mouth turned into a desert. If the tornado had been any bigger . . .
“Just for a moment.” She pointed to where the car lay only a few paces off the road. “It didn’t move me far, see?”
Like that made getting caught up in a tornado no big deal. “Were the shots worth it?”
“What?”
“The shots.” He motioned to the camera she clutched in her hand. “Were they worth risking your life?”
“You’re being dramatic.”
He let out a hollow laugh. “Right.”
“I didn’t realize it was so close, okay? I thought I still had time.”
“You miss your parents so much you’re willing to risk your life to feel close to them. That’s not healthy, Laur.”
“This isn’t about them.”
“It is. Your parents died, and you started chasing storms, and you left. And I got to spend the next four years picking up the pieces and trying to move on. Now you’re back, and it’s like no time has passed at all. It’s wrecking me inside again. What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to start a career.”
“I don’t buy it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Is this about what happened back at the school?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know I’m not the only one who still feels it. Did it freak you out? Is that why you were so reckless?”
“This isn’t about our relationship!” She blew out a breath. “You wanted to do everything for me after they died. It was suffocating.”
He swallowed hard, trying to keep his anger at bay. “You keep using that word.”
“Because it’s how I felt.”
“All I wanted was to protect you.”
She reached out, resting her hand on his, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft. “I know. I wish we both would’ve handled things differently.”
“We can handle them differently now.”
He glanced over, and Lauren slowly shook her head. “I don’t know if we can.”
“I loved you so much,” he choked out. The past tense felt like a lie. “I was saving up for a ring. At Christmas, I was going to propose.”
He heard her intake of breath. “I didn’t know.”
He doubted it would’ve made a difference if she had. “Yeah, well, you didn’t stick around long enough for me to tell you.”
“I loved you, too, Tanner. Whatever else happened between us, I don’t ever want you to question that.”
He whipped into a parking stall at the urgent care clinic, wanting to shake her and kiss her all at once. “Let’s go see how much damage your reckless behavior has caused this time. At least none of it is emotional, right?”
“Tanner—”
He shut the door, cutting off her words.
She didn’t try to speak as he helped her into the clinic. He grabbed a clipboard and tapped his finger against his thigh while she filled out the information.
“You don’t have to wait with me,” she said. “I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”
“I saw how well you took care of yourself this afternoon.”
“That could’ve happened to anyone.”
Right. Because random people chased tornadoes all the time. Everyone had their car thrown across a field by a funnel.
Okay, so he did know two other people that had happened to—Lauren’s parents. A shiver chilled his entire body. Lauren could’ve died, too. He wasn’t sure he could handle losing her again, and the implications of that terrified him.
Lauren handed him the clipboard, and he took it to the receptionist at the front desk. An hour later, they left the clinic. Lauren had been lucky—nothing more than a small cut on her forehead the physician’s assistant had glued shut and five stitches for the one above her knee. Miraculously, she’d somehow escaped a concussion.
“I’ll drive you back to Tulsa,” Tanner muttered once they were back in the car.
“There’s no need for that. Just drop me off at Jake’s Garage so he can tell me the damage.”
“Fine,” he ground out.
“Thank you.”
Two minutes later, he pulled up to the only auto garage in Sunset Plains. Lauren had made arrangements while they waited at the doctor’s office, and he could already see her smashed-up car in one of the bays.
“Let me help you inside,” he said.
“Thanks, but I can take care of myself.” Lauren got out of the car and slammed the door shut. The finality of that bang echoed throughout the truck long after she was gone.
Chapter Nine
“THANKS FOR DRIVING ME BACK to Sunset Plains,” Lauren said, shifting on Shannon’s cracked leather seat.
“Are you kidding me?” Shannon glanced over at Lauren, her smoker’s rasp growing more pronounced. “After the footage you caught, I’d do anything for you. Doyle’s over the moon. You’re my freakin’ hero.”
Lauren gave a weak smile, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Miraculously, the memory card had survived the crash. Doyle had indeed been happy with the tornado shots, and it had aired on the ten o’clock news that night with an extremely positive response.
“I was an idiot,” Lauren said. “I never should’ve gotten so close. I wasn’t thinking.” But she’d done a lot of thinking since that night. Her
parents had been on her mind even more than usual, and she could sense their disapproval from beyond the grave like a physical weight.
“It was hard core,” Shannon said. “We’re definitely replacing the roving reporter when she retires next year.”
Twenty minutes later, Shannon entered the borders of Sunset Plains, and Lauren gave her directions to Jake’s Garage. Lauren’s car sat in a corner of the parking lot, smashed flat like a pancake.
Shannon pulled to a stop and whistled. “Is that it?”
“Yeah,” Lauren said. It was even worse than she remembered.
“You are one lucky dog.”
“How was I supposed to know the twister would turn at the last second?”
“Uh, maybe because you spent four summers storm chasing with experts.”
Funny—that’s exactly what Lauren had imagined her parents’ saying the last few days. Lauren rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
Shannon laughed. Lauren got out of the car, carefully walking across the parking lot. After a week, her leg was doing better, but it still hurt to walk since her barely healing skin stretched and pulled with every step. At least she’d gotten the stitches taken out yesterday.
Clouds covered the sky, and the air was cooler than normal. Lauren opened the door to the shop, and the smell of car oil and brake fluid instantly overwhelmed her. She’d come here with her dad more than once growing up for parts he’d ordered to repair one of their cars. The memory wrapped around Lauren like a hug, and she blinked back tears.
Jake looked up from the counter, a wide grin on his face. He’d been in Tanner’s graduating class, and hadn’t changed much in the last four years—same beefy arms, golden hair, and friendly smile.
“Hey,” he said. “You’re back.”
“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” Lauren said. “I had to wait for my next day off.”
“No problem,” Jake said. “I just need you to sign a few things for the insurance company. Let me get the work order.”
Lauren looked through the paperwork Jake brought her, swallowing hard at the descriptions of her totaled vehicle. She’d been lucky to make it out alive. Worst of all, she hadn’t felt close to her parents while her car was being thrown across the field. Not the way she felt close to them in Sunset Plains, with memories of happier times surrounding her. The memories no longer stabbed the way they had when she left, but instead soothed her aching heart.