by Rebecca Rode
Lauren stared at Tanner, confusion coursing through her. His words were saying one thing, but his eyes suggested he wasn’t only talking about the storm.
It was too much. She pulled her hand from his. “I have to go,” she whispered. “We can talk about this later.”
“Lauren!”
She ignored him and ran out the door. Had he been asking her to stay for him, or because he was worried for her safety? And why did she want to stay so badly?
Lauren slipped into the car, and the wind slammed the door shut behind her.
“Everything okay?” Shannon asked.
“Yes. Let’s go find that funnel.”
Chapter Eleven
TANNER STARED AT THE DOOR, feeling as though she’d ripped out his heart and stomped on it.
She’d left. Again.
Tanner stumbled into the chair, his breathing ragged. So that was it, then. It hadn’t been her parents’ deaths that had caused her to leave—she was just the type of girl who ran away. He ran a hand over his face, trying to steady his breathing. No, that didn’t quite make sense, either. For three years they’d had a stable relationship. Nothing had changed until after her parents’ deaths.
He slammed his hand against the desk. Four years apart, and still he loved her as much as the day she left. The way she’d looked at him said she did too, but her actions told a different story.
He watched the storm grow larger on the monitor, sweeping toward town. And Lauren was headed straight for it. She needed tornadoes to feel close to her parents, to fill the hole they’d left in her life. And as dangerous as reporting on tornadoes could be, if he didn’t let her grieve in her own way, he’d lose her all over again.
He had to tell her how he felt. That he forgave her for the past, and he wanted to move forward—together. Even if it meant supporting her as she chased tornadoes. He would swallow his fear and chase them with her, if only she’d have him.
The black cell moved across the monitor, growing larger. Tanner opened a drawer and grabbed his keys. He couldn’t sit here and do nothing while she dealt with the kind of pain that made her throw herself in the path of a literal force of nature. He would stand beside her this time and let her feel the pain instead of trying to make it go away.
He wanted Lauren back.
Tanner quickly shut down the computer and left the room, locking the door behind him. Outside the sky was black, and rain poured from the clouds in buckets, nearly drowning out the wail of the tornado siren. Tanner fought his way to his truck, struggling to breathe as the wind whipped straight through him. Had Lauren made it to the vortex yet? Was she even now watching the funnel decimate the lands right outside Sunset Plains?
Tanner gripped the steering wheel of his truck and headed west. The roads were empty, as anyone with half a brain was safely inside, ready to run to the storm shelter at a moment’s notice. He should be inside, not chasing after Lauren.
But he loved her. The past four years hadn’t changed that, no matter how much her actions had hurt him. She needed a partner, not a knight in shining armor. This time, he wouldn’t fail her.
The pock-marked pavement transitioned into a muddy dirt road covered in divots filled with water. He bounced along the uneven terrain, not caring that the shocks in his truck were being destroyed as he forced the vehicle to go faster. He leaned over the steering wheel, peering up at the sky.
A funnel was already forming in the nearly black clouds.
Tanner pressed the gas, racing faster. The truck bumped over a ridge and back onto the paved road. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered. What if he wasn’t even on the right road? It wasn’t like there were many out this way, but Lauren might have taken one of the dirt paths across private lands, or maybe the road that headed more southwest than strictly south.
The wind howled, angry and fierce, whipping away the tornado siren. Tanner leaned forward again to see out the windshield, and gasped.
In mere moments, the funnel had gone from barely there to at least half a mile wide. It stretched toward the earth, like a finger ready to flip the off switch on the entire town. The wind pushed his truck and he struggled to hold onto the wheel as his tires spun on the wet asphalt.
He rounded a bend in the road and screeched to a halt. A blue four-door sedan was parked in the middle of the road, the Tulsa One bumper sticker just visible through the rain. A tree jutted through the front windshield, its branches littering the ground. Just like the way Lauren’s parents had died.
“No!” Tanner yelled, searching frantically for signs of the two women. He pounded a hand against the steering wheel and kept his foot pressed against the gas pedal. If she was in that car . . .
There! Lauren leaned into the wind, her hair swirling around her head as dirt and debris whipped past. She clutched a microphone in her hand and her mouth moved as though she were talking. Shannon stood a few feet in front of Lauren, a camera propped on her shoulder as she filmed.
Relief flowed through Tanner, and he sagged against the seat and drove toward them. She wasn’t dead, even if her friend’s car was. But they’d all be goners if they didn’t get out of here soon. They could drive a few miles away, then he would swallow his terror and let Lauren grieve through her work.
Tanner pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor, then slammed on his brakes just before hitting Shannon’s car. He pushed the door open, and the roar of wind and rain instantly filled his ears. The air was stolen from his lungs and he gasped, struggling to regain his ability to breathe in the face of such strong gusts. He pressed forward, each step taking monumental effort as he headed toward the women. The tree trunk rested on the hood of Shannon’s car, and Tanner shook his head in disbelief. It had gone right through the center of the windshield, likely missing both women by mere inches.
“The funnel is at least half a mile wide,” Lauren was saying into the camera, “and as we saw mere moments ago, it obliterated an entire barn in less than three seconds.”
Shannon made a motion with her hand, then pulled the camera off her shoulder. “We have to go. It’s too close.”
“No,” Lauren said, clutching the microphone. “We can film a little longer.”
Shannon shook her head. “I’m not as hard core as you, I guess. The footage is worth nothing to us if we’re dead.”
“Lauren!” Tanner said.
She glanced around before finally locating him, her eyes wide and disbelieving. “What are you doing here?”
He stepped forward, fighting the wind until he could take her hand in his. “I understand why you need this now. I’m finally listening instead of just hearing. If you need to chase storms to feel close to your parents, then I want to chase them with you.”
The wind let out another roar, and Lauren whipped around. The funnel touched down again, pulling an entire farmhouse off its foundation with one swoop. Tanner let out a yell.
“We have to go!” Shannon yelled. There was another crack, and a tree flew past.
“Okay,” Lauren said, her face white. “Maybe if we go a few miles away, we can keep filming.”
Tanner wanted nothing more than to drive until they were at his parents’ ranch, where they could safely wait this out in the storm cellar. But Lauren needed this.
He hopped in the cab of his truck, and Lauren slid in beside him. Shannon was the last in and slammed the door shut. Lightning struck, and the earth seemed to vibrate with the force of the thunder. Tanner fumbled with the keys and cursed when he dropped them. He leaned down, frantically pawing the floorboard until his fingers brushed cool metal. He shoved the key in the ignition, and then they were racing down the blacktop. A fence flew across the road and Tanner swerved, barely missing it.
Shannon swore. “It’s gaining.”
And Tanner was going to have a heart attack, right here and now. Did Lauren seriously feel closer to her parents doing this sort of thing? But he didn’t have to understand why it soothed her pain. He just had to accept her for who she was.
>
A fence post appeared out of nowhere, striking the hood of the truck. Tanner let out a yell and swerved. The truck engine coughed and sputtered, then shut off. The truck lost speed, hydroplaning on the wet pavement while Tanner struggled to maintain control. The women screamed as the truck fishtailed across the road. Tanner couldn’t see anything. The fence post had penetrated the hood of the truck and stuck up at an odd angle, obstructing his view.
“Crap,” Tanner yelled as the truck came to a stop.
“It’s coming,” Lauren said, pushing on Tanner’s arm. “Go, go, go!”
Tanner opened the door, frantically scanning the horizon. “Where?”
Lauren pointed at the ditch a few paces away. Large cement pipes, at least four feet wide, were just visible. An irrigation ditch. “There!” she said.
Shannon sprinted across the road, camera in hand. Tanner grabbed Lauren’s hand and pulled her after Shannon’s longer stride.
“Hurry!” Shannon called.
Tanner looked behind him, letting out a yell. The tornado was right on their tail.
Shannon dove into the pipe. Tanner pushed Lauren in, then crawled in right behind her, barely registering the sting as the rough cement scraped the palms of his hands. The pipe shook, rolling back and forth in the ditch just enough to make crawling hard.
They had both been so stubborn. And now he would die without ever setting things right.
Tanner threw himself over Lauren in a protective huddle, the thunderous roar of the tornado drowning out the sound of her screams. The pipe shook, and Tanner squeezed his eyes shut tight, feeling the pull of the vortex. He clung to Lauren, praying they’d both make it out of this alive.
“I’m sorry!” Lauren yelled, her mouth close to his ear. “I shouldn’t have given up on us. I loved you so much, but I didn’t know how to make you understand what I needed.”
“I know.” He took her face in his hand, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “I still love you, Lauren. I don’t want to focus on the past anymore. All I want is you, and a future together.”
Her laugh turned to a scream as the pipe rose an inch off the ground, then crashed back down with a bone-rattling crunch. Tanner yelled, pressing himself closer against Lauren. Her breath puffed against his cheek, shallow and fast.
“If this is how you need to grieve, that’s okay,” he said. “In the future I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get quite so close to the storm, but I will do whatever necessary to help you through this. I’ll be there for you the way I wasn’t before.”
“I don’t need it anymore,” Lauren said. “Coming back to Sunset Plains made me realize that this town is what I need now. At your office today, all I wanted was to stay safe with you. But I thought it was crazy to give up a dream I’ve been chasing for so long.”
The pipe jumped again, and behind them, Shannon yelled. Shingles flew past the pipe opening, and Tanner heard what sounded like an entire roof crash into the ground.
Lauren grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. “The memories in Sunset Plains aren’t suffocating anymore—they’re healing. I need this town to feel close to my parents. Not some tornado.” She let out a shallow laugh. “I’m not feeling close to them at all right now. Just scared.”
Relief swept through him, and he leaned his head against her forehead, laughing. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.”
“I’m done running. All I need is you. I love you, Tanner.”
He hadn’t heard those words in four years, and his entire soul sang with the beauty of them. “I love you, too.”
Her eyes stared into his, wide and vulnerable, while the storm raged outside. Tanner brushed the hair out of her face, then leaned down, his lips hungrily claiming hers. Kissing Lauren was even better than he remembered it being. He could taste the grit of the storm on her lips and feel the desperation in her touch. She pressed herself against him, and he threaded his fingers through her soaking wet, dirt-caked hair. Dust and debris blew into the pipe, and he was vaguely aware of Shannon huddled at the other end. But none of that mattered anymore.
“I’m never letting you go again,” Tanner said.
Tears made muddy trails down Lauren’s cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The pipe seemed to rock back and forth forever, although logically Tanner knew it had to be only minutes at most. But eventually the pipe became still, and the wind died down to a dull roar.
“I think it’s passed,” Shannon said. “Holy crap, that was freakin’ insane.”
“Yes,” Tanner said, tucking a strand of hair behind Lauren’s ear. “It was.”
“I’m going to check things out,” Shannon said, crawling toward the pipe opening.
Tanner rose up on his hands and knees, letting Lauren crawl out from underneath him.
“Holy crap,” Shannon said again.
“That bad?” Lauren asked, crawling faster.
But whatever had happened out there, they were alive. Tanner could still feel Lauren’s warm lips against his, a dream he’d thought he’d never experience again.
He slowly rose to his feet, wrapping Lauren’s hand in his. The field looked like a war zone. A house had been dropped in the middle of it, the roof completely gone and sides splitting apart. He hoped no one had been inside. A cow’s legs were just visible from underneath a car. The tall grasses of the prairie had been cut down to stubs, and grass mingled with hay was strewn about the road.
“Whoa,” Lauren said.
“Yeah,” Tanner said, taking in a shaky breath.
“I can’t believe it. We’re alive!” Lauren turned to Tanner, her eyes blazing.
“We’re alive,” he whispered, caressing her cheek.
“Chasing storms isn’t worth losing you.” She reached up, resting her hand on his. “I don’t need the adrenaline to feel close to my parents anymore—to feel alive. You make me feel alive, Tanner. You are enough.”
He rested his head against hers, closing his eyes as happiness flowed through him. They had a long way to go, but this seemed like a great beginning. “And you’re enough for me, Lauren, no matter how many storms you chase. I’m done trying to change you. I love you just the way you are.”
And then he kissed her.
Epilogue
One Year Later
LAUREN STOOD ON THE FRONT porch of her home, watching the storm roll across the Sunset Plains prairie. Black cumulonimbus clouds billowed in the distance, perhaps three or four miles away, and she knew that soon the updraft would begin to create a funnel.
She closed her eyes, imagining racing across the prairie with Shannon, a microphone in hand as the cameras rolled. Lauren could almost feel the wind stinging her cheeks as rain chilled her clear to the bone. The roar of thunder filled her eardrums until she could hear nothing else. And the pure thrill—and terror—of chasing a force of nature that might turn on her at any moment had her blood rushing in anticipation.
For so long, she’d needed that adrenaline rush to feel alive. But not anymore. Three months ago, she and Tanner had stood before a pastor and promised to love each other for the rest of their lives. The church had overflowed with friends and family, and many of the old timers had reminisced about attending Lauren’s parents’ wedding at the exact same church nearly thirty years ago. That had been a thousand times more fulfilling than any storm. Lauren had a feeling this next adventure would top even that.
Arms slipped around her waist and Lauren leaned back, nestling against Tanner’s chest. He let out a deep, contented sigh, tightening his grip. She inhaled deeply, loving the way the scent of rain mixed with Tanner’s cologne.
“Missing your old life?” Tanner whispered. He brushed her hair aside, his lips caressing her neck in a soft kiss that made her shiver.
Lauren spun in his arms, rising on tiptoes to kiss his lips. “My old life didn’t have you.”
His mouth quirked up in a smile. “I don’t expect to compare with a tornado. Or have you forgotten that I’ve been caugh
t in the middle of one, too?”
“You’re better than a tornado—predictable, dependable, steady.”
“Aren’t those all just synonyms for boring?”
“Hardly. A tornado can’t do this.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing closer. “Or this.” She brushed her lips against his again.
“Mmm,” he murmured, pulling her in for a longer, more satisfying kiss. “No, it can’t. So are you missing your parents?”
“Always. But I don’t need the adrenaline to feel close to them anymore. It filled a hole in my heart that isn’t there now. All I need is you.”
“Try telling that to Shannon.”
Lauren laughed. “I think she’s okay now.” Shannon hadn’t been thrilled when Lauren admitted she wanted to report on the weather from the studio instead of the field. Lauren had told Doyle she wasn’t interested in the roving reporter spot, and Shannon had grudgingly done the same. She said working human interest pieces with Lauren was better than teaming up with some obnoxious roving reporter.
Not long after taking their names out of the running, one of the weather reporters had quit unexpectedly, and Doyle had offered Lauren the spot. He’d said her dedication to her job and meteorology degree made her perfect for the position. Lauren refused to come without Shannon, and to her surprise, Doyle agreed. Shannon’s eyes had grown wide at the pay increase, and she hadn’t complained about giving up on the roving reporter spot since.
“Tornadoes were an adventure for you,” Tanner said.
“Being married to you is an adventure.”
“Not the same.”
Lauren laughed. She tugged Tanner down onto the porch swing and nestled against him, setting the swing into motion with one foot. “I’ll watch the storm from here,” she said. “I’m nice and warm, my hair isn’t filled with mud, and I can go inside and mix up a pitcher of sweet tea whenever I want.”
“That does sound nice. How was your day off?”
She held back a grin. “Good. I had an appointment at the doctor’s, then went to the cemetery and spent a few hours talking to my parents.”
