by Hanna Hart
“What are you doing here?” she called out over the rain.
“I needed to make sure you guys were okay. The storm's touched down; you should be inside!” he called back.
Sophia shook her head, pulling Imogene closed to her chest. “I told Lauren that—” she began, but Nash shook his head.
“It's too late to go to Lauren's now; the tornado is here. You're coming back to my place!” he interrupted.
“At the ranch?” she asked, knitting her brows together.
“No, my place. It's about five minutes away.”
Sophia watched him silently, then without a second thought, she pulled the hood of Imogene's pink raincoat up over her head, locked her front door, and ran to Nash's truck.
The ride to his house was so frightening that nobody said a word. Despite the rain, he sped down the road, wanting nothing more than to get into his cement basement and wait until the storm passed.
All around them, they could see black dust kicking up into the air. The tornado was close. Eerily close.
When they got into his house, he locked the door behind them and ushered the three down into his basement. It was the least fancy area of his house, but at least it was finished. Downstairs there was a fireplace, a television, a leather pull-out sofa, a club-style chair, a wet bar, a laundry room, and a three-piece bath. No windows.
Nash knew it was important not to scare poor little Imogene more than she already was. He asked her what her favorite songs were, what shows she liked to watch, and how her drawings were coming along, which seemed to distract her.
Eventually, the three of them curled up onto the pulled-out couch and Nash gave Imogene his tablet so that she could watch some videos while Sophia opened a Texas Twitter account specifically made to give updates on severe weather events around the state.
The account updated two minutes ago saying the tornado was heading east of Tillsonburg. Right where Nash lived.
Nash told Sophia to stay put and was surprised when she actually listened. Then he ran all the way upstairs into his bedroom to look out the large bay window at the outside world.
He could physically see the tornado in the distance as it touched down in the farmer's fields. The black storm cloud spun and danced in the air. Lightning crashed in the distance, and he could see the root of the spire getting thicker and thicker as it twisted by.
He quickly returned to the basement and locked the door behind him. He wasn't going to tell Sophia what he saw and was grateful that she never asked. Even so, the sounds of the storm were unmissable: like a freight train above with rain and hail coming down like it was the end of the world.
As time went on, Imogene began to doze off until she was deeply sleeping in Sophia's arms. Looking at the little blonde girl, Nash couldn't help but think of how peaceful she looked and how much he envied Imogene at that moment.
Sophia opened her mouth for the first time in a while, but no sound came out. Instead, she mouthed the words, “I'm scared.”
“You're not afraid of anything,” he whispered to her with a smile.
“You should have seen me during labor,” she said quietly.
He gave a gentle laugh, not wanting to wake her daughter. Then he reached over and ran his hand up her arm as he cooed, “It'll be alright” and hoped with every fiber of his being that he was correct.
Chapter Eight
Sophia
On the car ride to Nash’s house, Sophia had texted Lauren to let her know she was taking shelter at the Haven boy’s home.
She knew that once the chaos of the day had subsided—be it days or weeks from now—Lauren would be ready with a lecture for her about spending time with Nash.
But for now, Lauren responded only saying with messages of love and the hope that Sophia and Imogene were safe and sound.
Sophia looked up toward the door that led to the upper floors of Nash’s country home with trepidation.
Growing up, she thought she knew what fear was. Fear was getting your heartbroken; fear was having a family member or close friend tell you that they were sick; fear was being alone.
Now that she was a little bit older, Sophia could now say without a doubt that she knew what real fear was.
Fear was this. It was tonight, in this basement, in this storm.
It was a panic Sophia had never experienced before. A powerful anxiety that swept over an entire town and united those who had never even met.
An indecipherable crack shattered above them, and Imogene stirred in her arms, looking up at her in surprise.
“Mommy?”
“It's okay, baby,” she said softly. “It's just a big storm.”
“Cool!” Imogene chirped, sitting up in the oversized pull-out and looking around for any windows to catch a hint of the chaos outside and finding none.
“It’ll be over soon,” Sophia said, looking to Nash for reassurance. She mouthed, “What was that?”
“Sounds like a window was blown out,” he said. “The wind probably knocked out one of the windows on my truck.”
“Sorry,” she winced.
He shrugged. “It’s just a truck,” he said.
Sophia nodded, then went to the luggage bag she had meant to take to Lauren’s and fished out a pair of headphones that she promptly put over Imogene’s ears and set her up with a movie to watch.
“You don’t know what real fear is until you have a kid,” she said to him.
Nash seemed reluctant to agree, but when he met her eyes, he said, “I imagine you’re right.”
“It’s like having your heart live outside of your body,” she said, running a hand through Imogene’s blonde curls. “And you’re always worried that something’s going to happen to it.”
She couldn’t imagine what she would do with herself if something happened to Imogene. That little girl was her world.
“Do you think the tornado is going to level the farmlands?” she asked.
Nash scoffed and shook his head as though the mere thought of it was hilarious. “No. It'll be alright.”
She shook her head. She knew Nash wasn’t going to let up—he wasn’t going to talk about anything that would upset her—so she decided to change the subject.
“Let’s talk about something else,” she said, happy to get her mind off of the raging hail above them.
“Okay, like what?”
She bit her lip and crossed her legs on the pull-out. She already had a subject in mind, and it was something she’d been dying to ask about for the last week but it never seemed like the right time.
“Like, let's talk about your wife. I heard you got married,” she said with a half-smile. Gesturing around the room, she asked, “Does your wife make you sleep down here in the basement?”
Nash shifted, and she could tell she’d said something she shouldn’t have. This was not an uncommon feeling for her.
“No, my wife, uh...” he stammered awkwardly. “She passed.”
“What?” she bit her lip, regretting that she’d ever brought it up. Here she was, expecting some trashy gossip about how his wife was on business, out of town, or that they were currently separated. But no, it turns out she was dead.
“Oh, Nash. I'm sorry,” she said with cupped brows.
“She was in a car accident,” he explained. “A big tanker went off, and she got caught up in it.”
Sophia nodded. She may not have been in Tillsonburg for very long, but she’d seen the clips from the fiery car accident when she looked up reviews about the ranch town. She saw the explosion and the violent smoke that was no doubt replayed on the news over and over.
For a moment, she felt sorry for Nash. Here she was saying he had no idea what true fear felt like and all the while he’d had to go through the fear of losing his wife, the fear of hearing about her in a hospital or in an accident somewhere, and then experience the fear of knowing he was back to living life alone.
“I'm really sorry,” she said. “I'm such an idiot. I didn't know.”
�
�It's alright. It wasn't your fault.”
She slapped a hand on her forehead and cringed. “I know but, ugh. I feel so stupid now. Can I request a new change of subject?”
Nash laughed sympathetically. “The floor is yours.”
“Why did you come to get me?”
“Today?” he asked, and another clap of thunder resonated outside. He looked down at his hands as though they held the answer, then back up at Sophia as he said, “Because you're my friend, and that's what friends do—they help each other.”
“But you secured the house. When I talked to Wesley, he said—”
“Yeah,” he said, drawing the word out with a well-humored suspicion. “I heard you'd been talking to Wesley.”
She smiled. “He came over…hm…a couple of days before you did the other week to bring supplies? He said he wanted to make sure none of the boards against the window had come loose.”
“Is that right?” he said lowly.
She shrugged. “I'm sure it was just a veiled desire to see me.”
“Ya think?”
“I do,” she said with a coy grin. “Because he asked me out.”
Nash searched her eyes. “And what did you say?”
“What do you think I said?” she snorted. “I said yes.”
“You said yes?” he repeated as though she’d just told him he was dating one of his brothers. He scrunched up his face, amused as he repeated, “You're dating Wesley?”
She giggled. “Yes! And why not? Why shouldn't I date Wesley?”
“No reason,” he said, showing her his palms. “I mean, the guy's my best friend, I have nothing bad to say about him. I just didn't think he was your type.”
“Why?” she rolled her eyes. “Because he's nice?”
Nash made a fist and bumped it against his heart as he joked, “Ouch.” Then said, “No, because he's…I don't know. He's a family guy.”
“And I'm a girl with a family,” she said as though it should have been obvious. She gestured over to Imogene, who was entranced by the tablet she was holding. “We've been seeing each other for about two weeks now.”
“Ah,” Nash said.
“Ah, what?”
“No, nothin’, it’s just…” he trailed off. “It's just weird is all.”
“What do you mean, weird? This can't really be a shock to you. He said he'd told you about it. Did he not?”
Wesley had told her as much, anyway. After their first date, she realized that Wesley might actually be someone worth her time. He was sweet and gentlemanly—a true cowboy.
She kissed him goodnight and came right out to say she would like to see him again. Have a real adult relationship without any games.
When he said he would like that too, she told him he should mention it to Nash. Which, clearly, he hadn’t.
“Not really,” Nash confirmed, thinking it over. “I mean, he asked me if I was over you and if I had any hard feelings about our breakup, but I didn't think that was him asking permission to go chase after you.”
“What did you say?” she asked.
“Hey, if Wesley wants to put himself through the living nightmare of dating you, who am I to stop him?” he teased with a laugh.
“Shut up,” she grinned. “I meant what did you say about, you know…the hard feelings thing?”
“Oh, that,” he mused. “I said I didn't have any hard feelings.”
She smirked and shot up a brow. “And he believed you?”
He laughed. “No. But he should have.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” she smiled. “Or at least, glad you felt obligated to lie about it.”
“No lies,” he said, and suddenly, the storm stopped.
Chapter Nine
Nash
The tornado lasted no more than twenty minutes when all was said and done. Laying in the pull-out bed, Nash looked over at Sophia, her eyes skyward as she listened to the sounds of the rain letting up.
Sophia looked over at him and smiled. Just like that, the storm was over, but Sophia didn't go home. She was perfectly content not to know what happened to those on the outside. Content to lay on the couch and catch up with Nash.
Why did the only ever find each other when they were otherwise attached?
When they were younger, Nash had asked Sophia to be his girlfriend. As far as he was concerned, they had been together for years without an official title to attach to the relationship.
This wrongful assumption was corrected bluntly by Sophia when she denied wanting anything to do with him romantically.
This had been before he and his brother took a trip around the United States to tour other ranches. They were visiting tourist ranches across the United States in hopes of buying one to put under the Havenview banner.
He was one month into his trip, broken-hearted, when he first met Catherine. She was a photographer who had been shooting for a coffee table book about rustic ranches and life in the country.
Catherine was twenty years old, blonde, and possibly a tad frail-looking, but pretty. The two of them hit it off right away, but for different reasons than he had been attracted to Sophia.
Sophia was fiery and impenetrable. She was his best friend, his confidant, his fellow comedian, and the object of his attraction.
She was her own woman. She didn't laugh to be polite. She didn't do anything for show, not even when the situation was begging for it. It drove him crazy in all kinds of ways.
“Can you ever just humor me?” he sighed one night after watching one of his favorite movies with her for the first time.
He'd been excited to show her the film, hoping she would love it as much as he did. Instead, she nearly fell asleep with boredom.
Afterward, when he asked if she liked it, she couldn't say something like, “It wasn't my type of movie, but I can definitely see what you like about it!” or anything of that nature.
No. Sophia had an extensive list of all the reasons she thought the director was a madman and detailed the exact parts of the movie she didn't like.
Contrary to his best friend, Catherine was demure. She was sweet and quiet. Most importantly, she knew how to behave socially. She listened to his stories without interruption, she laughed at his jokes, and she seemed to develop fast feelings for Nash.
Catherine was a woman who wasn't afraid to love.
After a week in Montana with Catherine, Nash asked her if she wanted to continue the tour with them and take photos of some of the other ranches around America. She called her publisher and, to Nash's surprise and relief, agreed to come with him.
When he finally returned home to Dallas, Catherine was at his side.
He'd kept in contact with Sophia while he was away, of course. She made sure of it, but things didn't feel the same. He was hurt, and no matter how hard he tried not to sound like he wasn't, his broken heart was obvious—especially to the woman who knew him best.
“We gotta talk when you get back,” she'd texted him somewhere in the middle of his trip.
He'd rolled his eyes at the sentiment, knowing that she'd want to dredge up what he'd said before he left Texas.
“My mom's throwing a dinner for us when we get back. First weekend in September,” he'd said.
“I assume I'm invited?”
“Is the sky blue?” he texted back, too tired to come up with anything cleverer than that.
“Talk to you there,” she responded, followed by about a hundred smiley faces.
Now that he was back, a part of him dreaded seeing Sophia, knowing that she would be a reminder of the hurt feelings he had tried to banish over the summer.
Surprisingly, he wasn't upset when he first caught sight of her as she walked onto the back porch of his parents’ family farmhouse.
His parents had lit the back yard with party lights and had the barbecue going strong. Generic country-pop music played in the background as she slipped through the sliding doors.
Sophia wore her hair down in curls and was sporting jean shorts, yellow tennis
shoes, and a red t-shirt with a gas station logo on it.
She ran up to embrace him, and he readily threw his arms around her. She squeezed him tight, and he could feel her heart pounding wildly against his chest.
“Hey, you,” he said with affection, and all of the reservations he had about seeing her fell away.
“You're back!” she exclaimed excitedly. “You look different!”
“I don't look different,” he said with a laugh.
“No, you do, you do! You have a world-weariness about you now. Doesn't he, Kelly?” she asked, turning to his mother for backup.
“You look very wise now, honey,” Kelly said with an amused smile. She loved egging Sophia on.
“I am not wise or weary. I am just Nash,” he said, slipping an easy arm around Sophia's waist. “What's the news, Soph? What have you been up to since I've been away?”
“You guys talked every day while you were apart,” his mother piped up with a laugh. “You can't possibly have news you haven't already shared.”
Sophia grinned, and her brows shot up. She threw a thumb out toward Kelly and agreed, “The woman's got a point! I've told you every single solitary thing that's happened while you were gone, including my marketing campaign for a local honey farmer and how the slushie machine at Tom's Convenience went on the fritz. So, I'm tapped, and I'm sure you are, too.”
“Actually,” he said, spinning Sophia around to face the patio table. “I do have a little bit of news to share.”
Sophia scanned the table and immediately focused on Catherine.
“I met someone,” he said and proceeded to introduce his girlfriend to his best friend.
Catherine stood and extended her hand across the table. “Hi, I'm Catherine Loyal,” she said with a shy smile. “It's so nice to meet you, Sophia. I've heard a lot about you.”
Sophia met Nash's eyes as she shook the girl's hand. “Hi,” she said, barely polite.
The barbecue was amazing. His mother pulled out all the stops, including bacon-wrapped burgers, fine cobs of corn, thick steaks, and buttery baked potatoes.
