Chased

by Hazel James

  Everything to the right makes ominous look like an understatement. Dark gray clouds that seem to reach the heavens stretch for miles over the horizon, sending streaks of rain and lightning to the ground below.

  “Holy shit,” I gasp, taking it all in.

  “Isn’t it great?” he asks, not bothering to hide the awe in his voice. I glance at him, then back at the storm. Something about the two halves of the sky remind me of DH. I think back to our conversation at Maggie’s pool when he said he never wants to get married. I don’t think he was lying, but over the last twenty-four hours, he’s proven that he’s capable of being in a relationship.

  So what’s he so afraid of?

  “PAIGE!” I SNAP MY FINGERS in front of her face. “You going to sit in the truck all afternoon?”

  She blinks and looks around the parking lot. “You’re taking me to get ice cream for lunch?”

  “You’ve never been to Braum’s?”

  “No, I’ve only been here for a couple of months. I basically work and read. It’s kind of sad, now that I say it out loud like that.” Her brows draw together and her pink lips tip down in a perfect pout. “I should get out more.”

  “You are getting out more. You’re a storm chaser today, remember? Now come on.” We cross the parking lot, and I hold the door open for her when we reach the building. Once inside, her eyes dart around the menu. I’ve had just about everything here, so choosing is easy for me. From the look on her face, we’ll be here all day, so I lean over and say, “I recommend the chicken strips and toast with gravy.”

  She looks up and smiles. “Thanks. I’m a terrible decision maker.”

  I raise an eyebrow and rub my beard. “What sort of terrible decisions have you made?” I don’t bother hiding the double entendre. If she tells me she experimented with girls in college, I’m going to embarrass myself in the middle of Braum’s.

  She shakes her head. “That’s not what I meant.” The cashier signals us to place our order. Paige goes first, and I add mine and pull out my wallet. She objects, but I hold up my hand to let her know I’m paying, no matter how much she argues.

  “So what did you mean?” I ask, stepping aside to wait for our food.

  “It takes me forever to make a decision. I always go back and forth.” She reaches for a rubber band on her wrist and secures her hair on top of her head. “Once I make up my mind, I’m usually confident. Except…”

  She pauses when our number is called. I take our tray and lead us to a booth next to the windows so I can keep tabs on the sky. “Except?” I prompt.

  She sighs. “Except sometimes I wonder if decisions that seemed right at the time were actually the wrong ones.” I stop myself from asking her to clarify. A part of me hopes Paige is talking about her engagement, but one, I have no business directly asking about that, and two, it’s going to piss me off if that’s not what she meant. She dips her toast into the gravy and takes a bite, humming with approval. “Good call on the food, DH.”

  “A friend of mine once told me that when you have two good choices, sometimes it comes down to what makes you happiest.” I don’t need to tell her that the friend is Clay and that the choices in question were about the benefits of me living or killing myself. About a week after my failed suicide attempt, I admitted my plan to Clay. He made me write a list of pros and cons and then the asshole ripped it up in front of me and asked which would make me happier: living or dying?

  “That’s the thing. What if a choice makes you happy at first, then makes you not as happy later?”

  I lay a chicken strip on a piece of toast and drizzle gravy on it. Uncle Kurt taught me to eat it this way, and I’ve done it ever since. “What choice isn’t making you happy anymore?”

  She wrinkles her nose—which is pretty fucking adorable, by the way—while she chews on a fry. “I’m not sure I feel right talking to you about this.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because you’re you.” She waves a hand at me, like that explains the underlying meaning to her statement.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I challenge.

  “Nothing’s wrong with you, but you’re… DH. The guy who gets every woman he wants, no questions asked.”

  I point a fry at Paige. “You’re wrong. I don’t get every woman I want.”

  She leans back in the booth and tips her head to the side. “Really? Name one.”

  The word “you” almost comes out of my mouth, which scares the absolute fuck out of me. Wanting Paige is the truth, but she’s off limits even if she wasn’t engaged. “That’s not important.”

  “Why do you care, anyway?” It’s an honest question, which catches me off guard. Most chicks I know use that kind of shit in mind games to get what they want.

  “You’re my friend. If you’re not happy, I want to help make you happy.” I think I might have just won the golden vagina award, but whatever. Somehow Paige has managed to get under my skin. I can’t say I’ve shown up at anyone else’s house with Mexican takeout and The Wizard of Fucking Oz. I had to go to three different Targets to find it.

  In case you’re wondering, Moore only has one.

  A flash of lightning outside reminds me of why we’re here in the first place. “Finish up, Nurse Paige. We need to hit the road.” I shove the last of my chicken fingers in my mouth and wait for her to take a final bite, then walk our tray to the trash can.

  “Where are we going?” she asks on the way to the truck.

  “East. Supercells have been building, and we should have a great show today.”

  An hour later, we’re parked on the side of the road outside Shawnee. Paige has proven to be the worst navigator I’ve ever had. Thank Christ I have a GPS. If I was relying on her, we’d be halfway to Kansas right now.

  “What exactly am I looking at?” Her forehead is pressed against the window, and she reminds me of the thirteen-year-old version of myself. I’ve never shared storm chasing with anyone other than Uncle Kurt and Eric, so I’m surprised at how normal this feels.

  “That’s a supercell. The top part of it is called an anvil.”

  “Because of the shape?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And that’s what makes the tornado?”

  “It’s part of it. The jet stream is the current of dry air that travels at the same height as airplanes. Think of it as a river in the sky. You’ve got that going on up there, and then you have warm, moist air on the ground that feeds up from the Gulf of Mexico. When you combine those, it makes this horizontal tube of circulating air.” Paige turns from the window to watch as I explain tornadogenesis. “So the warm, moist thunderstorm makes rotating updrafts. And then you’ve got the cold air coming down from above. That makes the rear flank downdraft. We call that the RFD. So we have all that going on, but remember that horizontal tube? Well, the updraft is so powerful that it turns it vertical, and that’s how a tornado is formed.”

  Paige’s blue eyes stare at me for several seconds, taking in everything I’ve said. I’ve been on the receiving end of many looks from women over the years, but none have been full of wonder or awe like this—at least not while my dick is still inside my pants. “I don’t know what’s weirder. That you know all of this, or that I actually understand it.”

  “It’s not hard to understand, and I am a great teacher.”

  She giggles. “You’re so humble, too.”

  I lean over and set my camera bag on the floorboard next to Paige’s feet, using the opportunity to admire her legs. She’s wearing jean shorts and sneakers, which I find funny. Was she expecting to have to run today? I open my laptop to continue our lesson, and Paige slides over on the bench seat to see better. Her arm touches mine, and because of our height difference, the sweet scent of her hair invades my head. It’s the same intoxicating smell from the pillow last night. The one I’ve been trying to forget about all day. Fucking Christ. In another life, I’d give anything to tip her head back and kiss the creamy skin along her neck. Instead, I order my brain to
ignore how good she feels and smells, and I turn my attention to my computer. “This is the line of storms moving to the northeast, and the best chance for a tornado is anywhere in this area.” I point to a splotch on the radar near our location, just south of the lowest supercell.

  “How do you know that’s where it’ll happen?”

  I look at her briefly while I think of a way to explain the radar that doesn’t involve cardinal directions. “Think of it like a clock. The storm itself is traveling from seven o’clock to one o’clock. The section of red and purple from twelve to three is rain and hail falling in the front flank downdraft area. The inflow notch will start to appear somewhere between three and six. That’s the warm, moist air we were talking about before. Rain doesn’t fall here, because the air is moving up, not down.”

  Paige points to each area as I explain it, nodding to let me know she understands. I take her tiny hand in mine and move her finger around the screen. “The RFD will start to wrap around the backside of the updraft—that horizontal tube that went vertical. When that happens, we’ll see a hook echo somewhere around seven o’clock. It’s formed by the rotation of the inflow and the RFD. It sort of looks like an upside down comma.” I force my hand to open and release hers. “What we’re watching for outside is a wall cloud that drops from the bottom of the supercell. That’s when you know things are about to go down.” I look out the windshield and study the sky. “It shouldn’t be long, now. The clouds are tightening up.”

  “And we’re going to sit right here and let it hit us?” I hear the panic in her voice while her eyes shift between the sky, the radar, and me.

  “Relax, Paige. We’re south of the storm, and we’ve got plenty of roads to choose from if we need to adjust our position. Come on. You’re missing the best part.” I set my laptop on the dashboard, grab my camera bag, and open my door. When she doesn’t follow, I reach back inside and grab her hand. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

  I watch the rise and fall of her chest as she takes a deep breath. She slides past the steering wheel, and my hands find their way around her hips to help her down. I chalk it up to good manners and take a step away from her to keep my dick from getting the wrong idea. She follows me to the back of the truck, where I unlatch the tailgate and assemble my camera. “I’m normally a lot closer than this, but I didn’t want to scare you since it’s your first time.”

  “Look at you, being a gentleman with my first time.” Her lips curve into a wicked smile, and she hops up on the tailgate.

  “You’ve never seen anything this big or powerful before. I wouldn’t want to scar you for life.” I snap my wide-angle lens onto the camera and toss the lens cap into the bag. This type of conversation—the one with jokes and innuendos that has nothing to do with emotions—is familiar ground, and I feel myself relaxing.

  She sighs. “It’s not going to be as big as you’re saying. They never are.”

  “Are you kidding? When you finally see it, you won’t be able to keep your mouth closed. It’s a force unlike any other in the world.” I loop the strap around my neck, point the camera at Paige and fire off a few test shots, capturing her eyes as they widen with desire.

  “Now you’re getting my hopes up, DH. You better deliver, or my afternoon will be wasted.”

  I lower my camera and step between her legs, placing my hands on either side of hers on the tailgate. “Oh, I promise I’ll deliver. I’m actually really, really close to doing it right here. Right now. Wanna see it?” She doesn’t answer, but her breath picks up and her tongue slides across her bottom lip. If I leaned in any closer, I could claim her mouth and finally figure out if she tastes as sweet as she smells.

  Slowly, deliberately, I slide my palms up her arms and rest my hands on the curves of her shoulders. I shouldn’t be touching her like this. I shouldn’t notice the fluttering of her pulse on her neck, just a few inches away from my thumbs. I shouldn’t care about the buzz that ignites in my veins when she shifts an inch toward me.

  But I do.

  “Are you ready?” I whisper. She nods. I twist her shoulders and point behind her, telling myself that she never forgot that we were talking about tornadoes.

  SHE GASPS. “OH MY GOD! That’s a funnel cloud!” She whips her head back to me, and her eyes are bright with wonder. I lift my camera and snap the shutter. I never tire of photographing the sky in its various stages of turbulence, but today my subject will be Paige.

  “Yes, it’s a funnel cloud. And in a minute, it’ll be a tornado.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Tornadoes reach the ground.” She turns around to watch the storm, and I use the opportunity to watch her. Part of me was afraid that she’d be bored, or worse—that she’d think the whole thing was stupid. Her squeal of excitement as the tornado touches down reassures me that I was worried for nothing.

  “This is officially the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!” She hops down from the truck and props her arms on the top rung of a wooden fence a few feet away. I fire off a few more photos and join her. For the next few minutes, we stand side by side in comfortable silence watching the show Mother Nature is putting on for us.

  When the tornado dissipates, I lean over and use my index finger to close her mouth. “Told you so.”

  “That was… just…” She sighs. “Incredible. I’m sort of sad it’s over.”

  “I might be able to fix that. Come on.” I lead us back to the driver’s side of the truck and grab my laptop off the dashboard. “If we go northeast, we’ll be able to follow the line of storms. This system is getting stronger, so there’s a good chance it’ll produce another tornado.”

  “Let’s go!” She runs around to her side, jumps in, and buckles up before I even get my door shut. I’m surprised at her excitement, but I’m not complaining. My afternoon just went from awesome to totally fucking awesome.

  “Just how close do you want to be?” I set my camera on the seat, crank the engine, and pull onto the road.

  “As close as you normally get.” I look over and see a confident Paige staring back at me; the apprehension she felt earlier has vanished.

  I laugh. “You asked for it.” As I race up the highway, gusts of wind press up against the truck, causing Paige’s eyes to go wide. “Aww, look at the Cowardly Lion,” I tease. “You gonna start singing ‘If I Only Had the Nerve?’”

  She rolls her shoulders like she’s ridding her body of tension. “I’m not scared, it just surprised me is all. And I’d rather be the Cowardly Lion than the Tin Man like you.”

  “What’s wrong with the Tin Man?” I glance at my GPS and turn down a side street, heading to Highway 377. I need to go north for the best chance to see another tornado without putting us in danger.

  “He has no heart.”

  “I have a heart.”

  “Medically speaking, yes. But I’d bet twenty bucks that you’ve never been in love.”

  Her words are true, but her tone makes it seem like I made that choice for my personal benefit instead of the opposite. “That’s complicated, and we don’t have time to discuss that right now.”

  My eyes focus on the debris on the road ahead. Based on our location, we’re approaching the path of the tornado we just watched. I don’t see any red and blue lights, which means emergency services hasn’t made it out here yet. I slow the truck to check for downed powerlines and come to a stop in front of a house that took a direct hit. Paige reads my mind and unbuckles. We jump out and step over bits and pieces of the house that are now scattered across the lawn. It looks like a bomb went off.

  “Where do we start?” she asks, taking it all in.

  I scan the yard for a storm shelter, but don’t see one. “Find the bathroom.” That shouldn’t be too hard, considering the roof is missing and the walls in the front of the house have been demolished. I lead the way through what used to be the foyer. “Hello? Is anyone in here?” I grab Paige’s hand to steady her as we maneuver over piles of wood, pictures,
and broken furniture.

  She points to a hallway to the left, which leads toward the back of the house. “The bathroom’s probably that way.” I shove an overturned coffee table aside and continue the search.

  “Hello?” I call again, looking into the first doorway.

  “Here!” Paige shouts from inside the second door. I hop over a pile of debris in the hall and see legs sticking out from underneath a tattered floral shower curtain in the bathtub. It reminds me of the time I found my mother unconscious in the tub. Even at the age of six, I knew not to touch the needle in her arm. She never thanked me for calling 911 and saving her life. Sometimes, I still wonder why I did.

  “Are we too late?” Paige asks quietly.

  I remove a handful of broken tiles and lift the curtain, revealing an elderly woman with a gash on her forehead. A trail of blood has trickled down the side of her face onto the sleeve of her pink robe. I gently press two fingers to the woman’s neck and feel a steady thrumming. “She’s alive.” I kick more broken tiles away from the tub so I don’t slip, and carefully lift her tiny body into my arms. “There’s a first aid kit in the toolbox in the back of my truck. Can you grab it?”

  Paige nods and rushes out of the house. By the time I make it outside, she’s cleared a spot on the grass so I can lie the woman down. “Ma’am? Can you hear me?” I ask, gently patting her face. Her eyelids flutter and open, and she stares at us in confusion. “Hi ma’am. I’m DH, and this is my friend Paige. Your house was hit by a tornado, and we’re helping you.”

  “What’s your name?” Paige asks, checking the woman’s pulse again.

  She thinks for a moment and says, “Esther.”

  “Do you hurt anywhere, Esther?” I ask. She doesn’t have any other obvious signs of trauma, and her breathing is steady, all good signs that she’ll make a full recovery.