by Rebecca Rode
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she swiped them away. “Were you seriously surprised when I disappeared? I’d been telling you for weeks I had to get away.”
“We were getting away. If you’d held out for another three months, we would’ve been in Texas. I never understood why that wasn’t enough for you.”
“Tanner, it was the school my parents wanted me to attend, with all the plans they made for me.”
Tanner’s chest heaved with barely contained emotions, and a sense of failure washed over him afresh. He’d never thought of it that way. “I thought it was all talk.”
She folded her arms, her eyes sad. “Well, it wasn’t.”
“Why did you do it, Laur?” He thought he knew the answer, but he had to hear it from her lips.
She held her hands out, palms up, as though she could grasp the answer out of thin air. “I felt so . . . trapped. All those plans felt like an awful reminder of what I’d lost. I felt so alone. I had no more family. You wouldn’t let me breathe, Tanner. You were trying so hard to protect me from everything, but it was something I needed to go through on my own.”
His heart squeezed like it was caught in a vice. He didn’t like the way the honesty in her words pierced him. He had loved her so much. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t enough for you. It took me a long time to realize how much I was hurting you by trying to help.”
“I wouldn’t let you be enough.”
The raw truth in her voice was hard to swallow, but Tanner itched to pull her into his arms. She would lay her head on his chest and let out that little sigh that had always made him putty in her hands. “We both made mistakes,” he said softly.
She gave a small smile. “And I think we both have regrets.”
“I know I do. But do you regret leaving?”
She nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. “Every day. I wanted to come back so badly, but then I’d think of my parents, and how much I’d hurt you, and all the memories this town holds, and I couldn’t do it. It was easier to keep running.”
“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve gotten through it together.”
“Maybe.” She lifted a shoulder. “There’s no way we’ll ever know now. But it feels good to finally tell you why I ran.”
“I missed you, Laur. So much.”
Her face softened, and he watched her blink back tears as she nodded furiously. “Me too. Please . . . Can we try to be friends again?”
The pain in her voice nearly broke him. He gently grasped her arms, pulling her toward him and wrapping her in a hug. She stood rigid in his arms for a moment, then collapsed against him. Feelings he didn’t want to examine had his eyes watering and throat closing off, and he tightened his hold on her.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again. “So, so sorry.”
“I know. Me too.” He rubbed her back as she tightened her grip around his waist. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like to go through the last four years without any connections to her past, without any sort of support system.
She looked up at him, her face luminescent with tears, and he wanted to lean down and brush her lips with his so badly his entire body ached. He gently pushed her away. Finally having a resolution to four years of wondering had lifted a burden from his shoulders he hadn’t even realized he’d still been carrying. But that didn’t mean he should start a romantic relationship back up with Lauren.
She wiped underneath her eyes, looking disappointed but not saying anything. Tanner grabbed his keys out of the top drawer of his desk.
“Come on,” he said.
Lauren’s eyebrows rose, but she followed him. He waited for her to exit the classroom, then turned off the lights and locked the door.
“Where are we going?” Lauren asked.
“To see something I know you’ll appreciate.”
He led Lauren down the hallway and up the stairwell. Her small form followed beside him, the laptop bag bouncing against her side with each step, and he had to resist the urge to reach over and hold her hand, like he had a thousand times before. He shouldn’t encourage her to stick around. They’d both said their piece, and he should let her get in her car and drive back to Tulsa. She needed a friend, not a boyfriend, but now that she was back, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to let her go a second time. Maybe she wasn’t as different as he’d assumed. She felt like the same Lauren.
Besides, she was the only person he knew who would appreciate this as much as he did.
They exited the stairwell and Tanner unlocked the first door they came to. He pushed it open and walked inside, motioning for Lauren to follow. He held his arms out, motioning to the room. “This is why I came back to Sunset Plains. Getting a weather center up and running will be part of my PhD coursework.”
Her mouth fell open as her eyes roved the room. “Holy cow.”
“I know.” To most, the room would look unimpressive—just six computer monitors spaced across two long desks, and a wall lined with digital displays and monitors. “The school applied for a grant, and they just finished installing the equipment yesterday. We’re very lucky to have it at such a small campus.”
“May I?” Lauren asked, gesturing to one of the computers.
“Sure,” Tanner said.
Lauren sat down reverently, running her hand over the keyboard. The monitor sprang to life, and she clicked the program to start it running. “Wow, you’re running the latest system. We don’t even have it at the station. We only get new software every other year.”
“New information updates from the satellites every sixty seconds,” Tanner said. “We can pinpoint temperature and barometric pressure readings to within a hundredth of a decimal point, and we have a range of almost a hundred miles. I’m sure you have a bigger range at Tulsa One, but since this is only for learning purposes, that’s as wide as we could afford.”
“I think it’s fantastic,” Lauren said, clicking. “Where’s the weather station?”
“Here, on campus. They installed everything at the back corner of the lot so that students can observe and make adjustments as part of labs.”
“Wow.” Lauren made a few quick keystrokes on the computer, then smiled. “Beautiful weather in all of Tulsa today. I’m kind of surprised. It looked like a storm was brewing when I left this morning.”
Tanner watched Lauren brush her blonde hair over a shoulder as she zoomed in to a specific area on the screen—her apartment, maybe?
“What are you going to do, now that you’ve come back?” Tanner asked quietly.
She held his gaze, and he thought he saw a spark of what they’d once had in the way her lips turned up and her eyes lightened. But then she looked away, rubbing her hand over a spot on the desk. “Work hard at Tulsa One so I can get the roving reporter spot next year and report on weather from the field.”
“Chasing tornadoes isn’t going to bring them back.”
Her jaw clenched. “I know.”
“Why are you risking your life for a job? Have you done anything other than chase tornadoes during the last four years?”
“That’s not fair. I enjoy my job, okay? That’s not a crime.”
Tanner struggled to keep his breathing even as heat licked up his face. “It’s not healthy. You still haven’t dealt with your parents’ deaths. That’s why it took you four years to come back to Sunset Plains.”
“Lay off, Tanner.”
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, agitation making the movement jerky. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you self-destruct. Don’t tell me to lay off.”
She let out a growl, her finger angrily clicking the mouse from screen to screen. Then she paused, leaning forward. “Holy cow,” she said, her voice tinged with excitement.
“What?”
“There’s a tornado coming.”
Tanner dropped into a chair beside her, scooting close. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. There’s an updraft right here. The mesocyclone is about two miles in diameter righ
t now.” She pointed. “See the hook echo?”
“Mesocyclones happen all the time. It’s probably nothing.”
“Yeah, but there’s a severe thunderstorm warning in effect for a few more hours. I have a feeling about this.” She stood, looping her laptop bag over one shoulder. “You should alert the fire department and have them sound the tornado siren.”
“Wait.” Tanner grabbed her arm, panic making his body ache with tension. “Where are you going?”
“To chase the storm. I keep a camera in my car, just in case.”
“Lauren, that’s crazy.”
“I’ve been doing it for years. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re running again.”
Her steps faltered. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” Electricity sparked, and he slowly reached up, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Four years, and you still feel it too, don’t you?”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “This has nothing to do with us.”
“Please, Lauren. I’m asking you not to go.”
“I have to,” she whispered. And then she walked out the door.
Chapter Seven
LAUREN GRIPPED THE STEERING WHEEL as she drove to the outskirts of town. What was Tanner doing? Had he lost his mind?
Dark cumulonimbus clouds billowed in the distance, and the earth shook as thunder rumbled again. Her wiper blades furiously attempted to keep up with the rain splashing against her windshield. Lightning flashed against the sky, the crack of thunder so loud she could feel it vibrate the floorboard of her car. Tears clouded her vision and she blinked quickly. Seeing anything in this rain was challenging enough.
He felt the chemistry that still zinged between them, too. What did that even mean? What did she want it to mean?
It couldn’t mean anything. Too much time had passed, and too much had come between them. His reaction to her leaving for the tornado proved nothing had really changed.
There! She’d found the mesocyclone. Wind swirled the clouds together in the beginning stages of a funnel.
“Come on,” she muttered. “Form a tornado.”
She pulled out her phone, not bothering to pull to the side of the road, and checked the readings. It was an app for hobbyists—nowhere near as sophisticated as the station’s top-of-the-line equipment—but that, combined with a visual of the skies and a desperate need to get away from Tanner, was all she had right now. She didn’t know what to do with these emotions.
She’d wanted to apologize, and she had. But now that she was back in Sunset Plains, the memories she’d been avoiding were way too close to the surface. She could still remember what it felt like to have the police track her down at Tanner’s. They’d been kissing on his couch when Cassidy burst into the room, embarrassing them both. But the look of terror in Cassidy’s eyes had made Lauren forget all about getting caught making out.
“What’s wrong?” Lauren had demanded.
“The police,” Cassidy gasped, her skin pale. “They need to talk to you.”
Lauren raced to the front room, the familiar faces of two officers staring at her with grim expressions.
“I’m sorry, Lauren,” Officer Darling said. “There’s been an accident, and we found your parents in the pass. We need you to come with us to identify the bodies.”
Lightning flashed, followed immediately by the crack of thunder, yanking Lauren from her thoughts and back to the present. She leaned forward, trying to see out the windshield obscured by rain. Her entire life had changed in that moment. She had thought she would die—had wanted to, for a moment.
And Tanner hadn’t listened—hadn’t tried to understand her pain. All he’d wanted to do was fix it.
The funnel grew, becoming more distinct. Wind buffeted her car back and forth on the narrow country road, and she struggled to maintain control. Fierce determination to get as close as possible to the vortex filled her. She needed her parents, not Tanner. Lauren pressed the pedal, forcing the car to pick up speed as she drove closer. She rolled down her window and leaned out, not caring when her hair instantly became soaked. The funnel was less than a mile away, half-formed. She could almost hear the experts she’d shadowed the last four summers telling her it was time to pack it up and move further away.
Lauren clutched the steering wheel tighter, pulling her head back inside the car. He’d asked her to stay, and she’d left. Again.
He has no right to ask me to stay, Lauren thought. I’m not his girlfriend. We’re barely even friends anymore. A lump formed in her throat, and she fought it back, focusing on the clouds. The experts were too cautious. She was fine.
The funnel was barely a half mile away now. Perfect. Lauren stopped in the middle of the road and put the car in park. She grabbed her camera from the passenger seat, already covered in plastic to protect it from the rain, and start snapping photos out the rolled-down window. Shannon would be green with jealousy when Lauren told her about this.
Why had Lauren thought coming home was a good idea? She didn’t need to face her past—she needed to bury it. No good would come of reliving bad memories.
Tornadoes were her future now. Not Tanner.
The funnel grew longer, a perfect smokestack. Rain soaked the front of Lauren’s shirt, and her hands trembled with the cold and adrenaline. Hopefully the images wouldn’t end up blurry. No matter how many times she saw a tornado, it never got old. Raindrops splattered on her arms, a warm hug from her parents. Debris flew around the edges of the vortex as it picked up grass and smaller trees. An F2, she’d guess. There was a beautiful power to the tornado, one that had her staring in awe. Were her parents watching her now?
The wind howled, the sound shifting to an ear-piercing shriek as the funnel grow longer and longer. Time to go! she heard the professional storm chasers telling her more urgently. Had her parents had time to feel this surge of adrenaline?
And then the vortex touched down. A shot of terror pierced through the thrill as the funnel obliterated a field in a second. It picked up a mobile home in the middle of the property, flipping it end over end, and she let out a gasp. Had there been people inside? Lauren could still make out the faint wail of the tornado sirens and hoped they’d made it to shelter in time.
She’d never been so close to the vortex. I’m here, Mama and Dad, she thought. Do you know how much I miss you?
Lauren continued to film out the car window, watching in awe as the tornado ripped across the prairie. The warnings of her mentors were but a distance memory. The funnel wasn’t headed toward her, and she couldn’t bring herself to stop filming and move back.
The white funnel cloud grew dark and less defined as it tossed what looked like a four-wheeler into the air. Lauren held her breath, praying that no one had been riding it. Had her parents witnessed this sort of destruction before ending up in the middle of it? She’d give almost anything to have the station’s portable weather system with her right now. The span of the cell had to be close to a half-mile wide at the top. The Doppler would be lit up like a Christmas tree.
And then the funnel turned. The narrow end of the smokestack ripped across the field, heading straight for her.
Lauren dropped her camera into the passenger seat and jammed the car into gear, spewing curses. Her mentors had been right, and now she would die because of her stupidity.
Her parents would be so pissed when she showed up in heaven about sixty years too soon.
She gunned the engine, flying across the rough blacktop at a dangerous speed of nearly seventy miles an hour. Her wheels spun on the wet road and she skidded sideways before the rubber caught again. She glanced behind her, heart nearly beating out of her chest. She’d never before been close enough to pick out individual air currents inside a vortex. Was that a shovel caught inside? Terror made it hard to think, hard to be rational. Should she drive faster? Veer into the field?
So this is what her parents felt like right before they died.
The back wheels of the car lifted
off the ground, and a scream ripped from Lauren’s throat. She so didn’t want to die today. The wheels landed back on the asphalt and her teeth slammed together, the impact vibrating her entire face. She screamed again, gripping the wheel as she tried to keep control of the car.
Forget her parents. Tanner would never forgive her for not listening to him.
Lauren pressed the gas, desperate to outrun this vicious force of Mother Nature. She hadn’t even been this scared when the fence flew at her head. When would she realize tornadoes were only beautiful from a distance? Being chased by one was terrifying, and yet she came back every time. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to feel close to her parents. But all she felt was the horror of being caught in the storm.
The wheels lifted off the ground and dropped again. Another scream burned her throat, desperate for escape. She’d never outrun the vortex. Her only hope was that a narrow funnel would allow her to escape its path.
She wrenched the wheel to the left and gunned it, plowing through a barbed-wire fence. The car bounced, engine revving as the wheels spun in the soft muddy field. The wheels caught for a moment before being jerked back.
The vortex was pulling her out.
Suddenly the entire car was airborne. The shovel slammed against the windshield, and pebbled glass rained down on Lauren. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
And then the tornado let go, and the car slammed against the ground. Her head hit the steering wheel, and everything went black.
Chapter Eight
TANNER KNELT ON THE CARPETED floor of his office and opened a box of books. He yanked out a few, then set them on the bookshelf with a growl. Yearbooks. Lauren had filled an entire page of his senior one with a love letter and signed it by pressing her pink gloss-covered lips to the bottom of the page. Sometimes, when he’d let the memories consume him in that first year after she disappeared, he’d open up the book and trace the outline with his finger.
