by Rebecca Rode
The screen on my phone flashes like a beacon. Without lifting my head, I angle the screen toward me to see a text from Trev. It’s the picture he took of us sitting on the hill with the flood waters behind us.
This whole time, I’ve been looking past us, and could only see the destructive flood behind me. That’s my life, and it’s a mess. I feel like if I just look at you instead, things will work out. Please talk to me. I’m trying to see us and not the flood.
A second text beeps my phone.
Can we talk?
The clock says it’s not late, but my body says I’ve had it. I remind myself that I’ll talk to Trev tomorrow, probably the next day. Tonight I really can’t do one more thing. And tomorrow I can only do one.
Pushing the button on the side of the screen, I silence it. Then I flip it over so I won’t see light from the screen.
I roll back out of bed and pack some luggage with a few things for Mom. I can pretend she’s going on a short trip. I’ll get the rest of what she’ll need later. With the suitcase by the front door, I return to bed.
Tomorrow is going to be hard. I mull it over and over, making myself ache with hurt. I can’t do this. I need to have some sleep tonight to survive tomorrow. I try to force my mind to stop talking, for my eyes to shut, and for me just to be still.
14
Trev Cooley
PARKING IN THE GRAVEL DRIVE behind Hollis Funeral Home feels like I’m trespassing. Zara could have called if she wanted to talk to me, and she didn’t. I want to talk with her—to find out from her if there’s any way to start over. I’ve seen an avalanche, even triggered one, but the anxiety I feel now, wondering if she can give me another chance, is more intense. Admitting I’m in love seems more dangerous than that river of snow and ice hiding torpedoes of trees and boulders.
Her door is wide open. At the bottom of the staircase, Ruth is stacking a small box on top of a couple of others. About the time she turns around to see me, Elena calls out to me, “Hey, you, get up here and take this box.”
It isn’t large or heavy, but I carry it down anyway. We all stand at the bottom of the landing in silence. I’m supposed to explain why I’m here and they’re waiting. I break eye contact with Elena and glance back at the pile of boxes.
“Is Zara moving?”
“Are you asking if you’re too late?” Elena’s eyebrows rise in challenge. “She left half an hour ago.”
“Where is she?”
I open my mouth to ask more or explain myself or say something to get Elena to help me, but Ruth cuts in. “Elena, don’t tease the man. You’ve got a little mean streak.”
Elena shrugs like she still thinks I deserve it when Ruth continues. “It looks like he’ll have a heart attack any moment. Zara’s not moving—her mom is. We came over to try to make it easier on Zara. She couldn’t pack Rachel’s things, so we are. We need to take these boxes to the Aspen Cove Center. Zara’s there with her mom right now.”
With the boxes piled in the back seat of my Jeep, I drive to the care center. I expect to walk in, ask for Rachel’s room and then figure out how to approach Zara. Instead, Zara and Rachel are sitting in Rachel’s car in front of the center.
The whole drive over, I’ve been planning how to grovel, how to tell her I know I messed up everything and beg her to give me another chance. But this isn’t the time. This isn’t about me. I need to be here for Zara if she’ll let me.
If she doesn’t want to be more than friends, I’ll take that. But I won’t walk away when she has to do something this hard.
I step out of my Jeep and walk toward the back of Zara’s car. I can see her eyes staring straight at me in her rearview mirror, but I can’t see her mouth or more to read her expression. I’m grateful when she unrolls her window and I can really see her—all of her.
I don’t know how to start and simply whisper, “Sorry.”
From across the car, Rachel asks, “Who is that nice looking young man?”
“This is Trevor, Mom. He’s—”
“Here to help,” I add quickly, my eyes meeting hers.
Zara swallows and pulls a napkin out of the pocket in her door then wipes it across her eyes. She opens the door and wraps her arms around me. “Thank you.”
As we walk to the entrance, I whisper behind Zara’s right ear. “I have lots more to say—later.”
“Does every sentence start with sorry?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We stay while Rachel meets her new friends and sits in all the chairs of her new rooms. After an hour, the nurse takes Rachel to lunch.
“You have to make a separation some time,” the nurse says to Zara. “This might be a good time, but if not, you’re welcome to come to lunch.”
Zara nods. “I think now would be good too.” She laces her fingers through mine and hangs on tightly, wrapping her other hand outside mine as we walk behind her mom. She and the nurse turn right at the corner, and we go left. After two steps, Zara stops and turns around, watching as her mom shuffles into a dining room.
“Can I give you a ride home? I’ll get Chase or Rob to come back with me to get your car later.”
She nods, and we walk across the lot in silence. Zara climbs into my passenger seat. “This is a bad time for me right now. I don’t want to hear your excuses or reasons or whatever. You’d better be ready to tell me what happened tomorrow.”
The next morning, I show up with donuts. Zara waits patiently, but her body language is warning me to be careful. For the first time, Mrs. Hollis isn’t here. “Are you okay?” I ask.
Zara take the box of donuts and sits with them on her lap. “I will be. Mom needs this. There’s a peaceful rightness to the decision. It’s hard—very hard, but it’s the right choice.”
Zara said exactly what I was thinking. There’s a rightness between her and me too, or could be. “If there is anything you need, I want to be here for you.”
“Thank you for that.” She pulls a glazed croissant out of the box and bites off the end. “I’m ready for your apology or story or groveling. Whatever you’d like to start with.”
I look into her eyes to see if she’s angry, but all I see is an expression that says she knows she’s in the right, and she’s waiting for me to confirm that.
“I’m the owner of Black Diamond Adventure Tours.” I look into her face. She hasn’t changed, skeptical but not angry, still listening. “My partner and I found out there was a lot of money missing, more every month. We couldn’t find it. So we had this idea that I’d visit each of the offices undercover and see if we could figure it out.”
“And did you?”
“Yeah. The culprit betrayed my partner and me, and broke my partner’s heart.” I see Zara unfold her arms. Good sign. “I was supposed to go back to California. I can’t do that now. I want to be here with you, if you want that.”
Zara’s face softens. “You could have told me. You could have trusted me.”
“I know. I do.” I scoot closer to her and hold her hands. “I will.” I take another deep breath, holding on to hope that Zara will give me a chance.
“Since I came back, I’ve only wanted to stay. I’ve known it since we were kids. Since our first practice kiss, I knew you were someone special to me. All I could think about was coming back to you. I don’t want to move away from you again.”
“Then don’t.” Her kiss is gentle until I stand, my arms tightening around her. Her hands move to my neck and my hair. She breaks the kiss, laying her head on my chest as I hold her close.
Relief floods me. Zara could have been bitter or completely ignored me. I would have understood—and deserved it. Instead, she’s understanding and generous. I wondered what my future was going to be like when the business was in trouble, but the business isn’t my future—Zara is. My heart is full of her. I’ll work every day trying to earn her trust, every year to make her happy.
“We can start over,” she says. “What do we do now?”
“Let’s visit your mom.”<
br />
“Are you serious?” She pulls back. The smile on her face brightens her features. She’s beautiful.
“Definitely. We could be her very first visitors. We’ll take her a housewarming present. What would she like?”
“Chocolate ice cream. You up for that?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
About Jo Noelle
Jo Noelle grew up in Colorado and Utah but also lived in Idaho and California. She has two adult children and three small kids. She teaches teachers and students about reading and writing, grows freakishly large tomatoes, enjoys cooking, builds furniture, sews beautiful dresses, and goes hiking in the nearby mountains.
Oh, and she’s two people, Canda Mortensen and Deanna Henderson, a mother/daughter writing team.
Connect with Jo Noelle online:
Facebook
Goodreads Author Page
Amazon Author Page
Jo Noelle’s Website
Other Books by Jo Noelle
Newbie “The housing market is crashing, and Sophie’s life is crashing with it.”
Lexi’s Pathetic Fictional Love Life “Falling in love is easy in fiction—in high school, not so much.”
Amnesty “Cassie is going to heaven, if she can get amnesty from hell in the next 20 days.”
Years & an Ocean “Going to a séance was supposed to be a harmless diversion in Victorian England, but for Delia Spencer it was life-altering.”
Sweet & Sassy Anthology: Hidden Identities—Second-Hand Hearts; Castle Collection—All By My Selfie;.and Sand & Kisses—Life’s a Beach.
Twisters and Textbooks
Lindzee Armstrong
copyright © 2016 by Lindzee Armstrong
After the death of her parents, chasing tornadoes is the only thing that makes Lauren feel alive. Each storm gives her the adrenaline rush she craves, but it can’t make her forget Tanner, the country boy she left behind in Oklahoma.
When a funeral brings Lauren back to Sunset Plains, she decides to seek out Tanner in a desperate attempt to finally let go of her past. He’s still angry by her abrupt departure from his life, and she begins to question whether she ever should’ve returned.
Just as Lauren’s about to run—again—a tornado hits near town, and Lauren and Tanner are caught up in a cyclone of emotions neither is sure they want to escape. Can they weather the storm of their past, or will they let it consume them?
Dedicated to all the Netflix shows I bribed myself with to get this story finished. Grey’s Anatomy, Royal Pains, Scrubs . . . this is for you.
Chapter One
TODAY WOULD’VE BEEN AN EXCELLENT day to call in sick to work. What were the odds that, out of all the rookie reporters at Tulsa One, Lauren would end up covering the state science competition?
She held her smile for the last shot, grasping the microphone so tightly her hand ached as she stared straight into the camera and fought the urge to run. Where was a good tornado to chase when she needed one? Her tailored suit jacket stuck to her back, the heat already stifling in May despite the air conditioner working overtime. The muggy convention center ballroom overflowed with laughing teenagers and their proud parents. Individual conversations pulled at her concentration, and she fought to block them out. Lauren Reynolds, Tulsa One News, didn’t notice those things, even if plain old Lauren did.
Beside her, a teenage boy with shaggy brown hair shifted from foot to foot, threatening to blow her concentration more than the entire crowd combined. A first place trophy hid most of his torso, and a lopsided grin revealed metal braces with florescent blue bands. But it wasn’t his constant fidgeting that distracted her. It was how much he reminded her of another boy, who’d worn an almost identical smile after winning his own senior year.
Lauren felt her breathing quicken at the memory, and she fought to keep her brow from creasing as the camera continued to roll. She wouldn’t let being here get to her. This would be the best human interest piece the station had ever seen. If she wanted so much as a prayer of landing the roving reporter spot next year, she needed to impress her boss, Doyle.
“And, cut,” Shannon said from behind the camera, her voice rough and raspy. The red light underneath the lens blinked off, and she lowered the heavy equipment from where it rested on one shoulder.
Lauren let the microphone drop. Finally, she could escape this dark pit of unwelcome memories. She turned to the boy, extending a hand even though she wanted to run. It wasn’t his fault he reminded her of someone else.
“Congratulations again,” she said. “The spot should air on the ten o’clock news tonight.”
“Thank you.” He shifted his trophy to one hand, then gave hers a firm shake. The action was so completely Tanner that it had her heart slamming against her ribcage. Lauren had been so proud of his win, and still in shock that such a funny, intelligent senior had chosen her, a mere sophomore, as his girlfriend. Life had seemed perfect, and she’d never so much as considered that they might not be together forever. Then her parents had died, their car picked up and thrown into a tree by a tornado. And Lauren’s entire world came crashing down around her. A world Tanner had forcibly tried to repair, creating a fissure in their relationship wider than the Grand Canyon.
The boy raced over to parents who enveloped him in a hug. Even his walk reminded her of Tanner, a little unsure and clumsy, like someone who had grown too fast and wasn’t used to his new body. Guilt coated her tongue, thick and bitter. This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to return to Oklahoma. She’d spent the majority of the last four years trying to forget Tanner, but today was bringing it all back. Why hadn’t another news station in Tornado Alley—any station—offered her a job? After graduating from the University of Washington last month, she’d had two offers to choose from: potentially covering the tornadoes she loved chasing in Tulsa, or the police beat in Boise, Idaho. Like that had even been a real choice.
“You did great,” Shannon said.
“Thanks.” Lauren shoved her microphone in the duffel bag of equipment, more than ready to get out of here. Her entire body hummed with the need to chase a storm. The dark clouds when they’d entered the conference center had looked promising.
“At least it’s not a slice of bread toasted to look like Woodie Guthrie like last week, right?” Shannon said. “This piece should turn out half decent.”
Lauren nodded. She lifted her hair off her neck, desperate for a breeze, while Shannon lovingly packed up her camera. Could she possibly move any slower? Lauren jealously eyed Shannon’s frayed boyfriend shorts, white tank, and frizzy auburn hair pulled back in a messy bun. Shannon looked cool and refreshed, whereas Lauren knew she was sporting more than a healthy glisten. She’d forgotten how hot Oklahoma summers could be.
Maybe she should’ve become a professional storm chaser instead of a journalist. No one had cared what she wore during her summers working with the crew. But she’d always planned on being a news reporter, and her parents had enthusiastically supported that goal. Despite abandoning every other reminder of her past, Lauren had stubbornly clung to that tenuous connection, her anchor in the midst of the hurricane.
Shannon finally zipped the tote bag closed and slung it over her shoulder. Lauren quickly picked up her own bag and wove through the crowd, desperate to get out of this building. Tanner had kissed her breathless in that alcove. She’d held his hand as they walked through those doors. Each of the sweet memories had been tainted by their last three weeks together, and the shame that had clung to her like a shadow for four years.
Lauren burst through the doors, immediately feeling her muscles relax. She peered up at the sky, but no funnel cloud was in sight and no sirens wailed a warning. Just an overcast sky that barely even hinted at rain. Didn’t Tulsa know that she hadn’t moved back for clear skies?
Shannon exited the building and raised an eyebrow, the door swinging shut behind her. “Where’s the fire?”
“Huh?” Lauren raised an eyebrow, pretending to be confused. “Hey, Doyle said a thu
nderstorm’s supposed to hit tonight. Maybe the station will let us tag along for practice.”
“Okay,” Shannon said easily. She popped open the back of the van and they both placed their bags inside.
“I’ll ask Doyle when we get back,” Lauren said. If they were really lucky, a funnel would form, and they’d catch the vortex on camera. Maybe chasing another storm would help her forget, if only for a moment, that she was only sixty minutes away from Sunset Plains. Was Tanner still there, or had he gone to Texas A&M without her?
If he would’ve just listened to her desperate pleas instead of trying to fix everything.
Lauren climbed into the passenger seat of the van, eager to get back to the station. She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled through her emails while Shannon cursed her way through the afternoon rush hour traffic. Lauren deleted a few emails containing coupons she wouldn’t use before opening the daily digest from The Sunset Plains Chronicle. She’d subscribed shortly after leaving, and getting news from her hometown was one of the highlights of her day.
A photo appeared at the top of the email with a link. Lauren sucked in a breath as a familiar face stared up at her, along with the headline Obituary for Dana Olson.
What had happened? Mrs. Olson couldn’t have been more than fifty. She’d been Lauren’s favorite high school teacher and her mother’s best friend. Lauren could still see the neat all-caps handwriting filling the whiteboard as Mrs. Olson lectured on weather systems. Could still hear her clear voice singing Amazing Grace with the church choir at Lauren’s parents’ funeral.
Lauren clicked on the link with shaking fingers and quickly scanned the article. Breast cancer. They hadn’t caught it until it was too late. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked, forcing them back.
“Hey, is everything okay?” Shannon asked.
The smell of coffee and cigarettes sharpened as the static-filled singing from the radio came back into focus. Lauren quickly swiped underneath her eyes, avoiding Shannon’s gaze. “One of my high school teachers passed away yesterday.”
