Chapter Text
Tyler sits in the hallway outside the empty room that has Kate’s name written on the dry erase board inside. She’s been out of his sight for no more than ten minutes, but it’s ten minutes too long. He feels an electric charge under his skin that prevents him from sitting still. But there’s nothing for him to do but to wait for the nurses to return with Kate from X-rays and concussion testing, and to wait for Cathy to arrive.
He’d been forced to ride in the passenger seat of the ambulance, but in reality, he’d been lucky to get a ride at all after he’d nearly wrestled the EMT that held him back from Kate. He had been told in no uncertain terms that he’d already proven to be too volatile to ride in the back. He could sit up front, where he’d be kept apprised of Kate’s condition, or call an Uber. Once he knew she was alive, he’d pulled himself together for long enough to accept the ride in the front. The hell if he was going to go in a different vehicle altogether.
The 10-minute ride to the hospital was excruciating, but true to their word, the EMTs in the back—the same who had released Kate’s limp body from the harness and laid her on the backboard—kept him up to date. She’d woken at some point. He wished he could’ve been more relieved to hear it; all he could think about was how she’d woken up and he still wasn’t there .
He’d heard her cry out in pain when they’d performed the spinal injury test, and it took all his strength to keep from climbing into the back. “Possible foot or leg injury, right side,” one of the EMTs reported, but quickly returned to speaking in soothing tones to Kate.
She was still conscious when they arrived at the hospital. He jumped from the front seat as soon as the rig was put into park, and he met the EMTs at the back door as they pushed her gurney out the double doors. Her eyes were open, searching, and when they landed on him, she reached out her hand. He took it in both of his blood-covered ones and walked alongside the gurney, blocking out whatever conversation was happening between the EMTs and the hospital staff.
“Ty…” Her voice sounded too soft. Her eyes rolled as she tried to focus on him, but eventually, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t—don’t forget my purse,” she said.
He’d looked up, wide-eyed, at the EMT nearest to him, the woman who’d first come to help them. She just shrugged and said, “Sometimes with head injuries…they don’t have their priorities straight.”
Tyler wondered if Kate ever had her priorities straight. Whatever priority should exist for valuing her own life seemed to be lacking.
When they’d taken Kate away, he’d immediately called Cathy. It occurred to him that he should’ve called from the ambulance, but he’d been too focused on listening to the minute-by-minute updates from the EMTs in the back. In truth, he’d forgotten that there was anyone else in this world besides him and Kate and the people he needed to save her.
He'd taken a deep breath and focused on staying calm. To his surprise, it worked, largely because Cathy reflected that energy back to him. She seemed to know that his bravado was all an act; he suspected he knew the same of her. This wasn’t the first time she’d received a call like this. He filled her in as best he could with the limited information he had: likely concussion since she’d lost consciousness, unlikely spinal injury, possible injured foot or leg.
“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” she said. Though her voice was measured, he could hear the frantic shuffle of a woman determined to get out the door fast.
“I—I’m sorry,” he said. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but maybe it was everything on the long list of possibilities, from convincing Kate to pursue this research to getting her in touch with Travis to taking her on this date to letting her go out there alone. That’s the big one: he can’t forgive himself for that.
But Cathy had already hung up the phone. He pictured her barreling out the door, throwing herself into the old Chevy, and tearing out the gravel driveway in an attempt to make the 20-minute drive into the promised 10.
In the end, she makes it in 15 minutes. He hears her before he sees her, talking in hushed tones to the nurse manager at the nurse’s station down the hall. Cathy had been a nurse herself, and he’s thankful she’s here before Kate comes back. He’s not sure he’d be able to wrap his mind around what they tell him.
When Cathy and the nurse manager round the corner of the hallway, he stands. Her eyes immediately find his, and to his surprise, she just smiles. It’s a wan smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, unlike the smiles she’s given him over dinner or when she thinks he’s not paying attention after making Kate laugh or grin. But any thought that she’d be angry at him is washed away as she bids the nurse goodnight and steps up to wrap him in her arms.
Though he stands head and shoulders taller than her, he feels like a child. His arms are just pinned at his sides, hands hanging slack, Kate’s blood still under his fingernails.
Cathy pulls away and studies his face. He doesn’t know what she sees there, but it must be enough for her to say exactly what he wants to hear: “This isn’t your fault, Kid.”
But even for all he wants to hear it, he doesn’t believe it. From the bits and pieces he’d heard, the whole resort was left standing; in addition to Kate, there’d been a couple of other people in the parking lot who’d been injured. No fatalities, he knew. But the truth remained that he’d stayed inside, and he’d let her go out there. To the only place she wasn’t safe.
He tries to tell Cathy this as she pulls him down into the chairs behind them, both of them with eyes forward into the empty room that will be Kate’s. He tells Cathy about the little girl, and about the flowery delivery kid, and Kate leaving, and him trying to get someone else to take the little girl. About carrying her to the storm shelter, about Kate never coming down those stairs. The parking lot. The truck. The blood.
He's hunched in the chair fighting back tears, and Cathy’s open palm rubs circles on his back. She’s trying to tell him what she’s learned from speaking to the nurses, trying to tell him that Kate will be okay. There’s a catch in her voice. When he glances in her direction, he sees the slow and silent tears that track down her face.
“You’d’ve never prevented her from going out there. Once she’s got her mind set to something, nothing stops her.” She keeps one hand on his back, and with the back of the other, she wipes her cheeks and her nose. “You think I wanted her to ever go storm chasing? We ain’t ever had a fight as big as the one we had when I told her to pick a different major.” She chuckles.
Tyler feels warmth spread to his chest as he imagines college-bound Kate and her dream of pursuing meteorology. Eager for some sort of distraction, he says, “That right?”
Cathy nods. “She’s fillin’ out all these applications and I’m saying, ‘Katie, don’t you remember when you wanted to be a nurse like mom?’ and ‘Katie, you’d make a real fine teacher.’ Even saying, ‘Katie, with that degree, you could be the weather woman on TV, wouldn’t that be nice?’ But she never wanted that. We had it out, going back and forth about things I thought of as safer options…until she looks me right in the face and says, ‘Is this your life or is it mine?’”
He watches her face, the faraway look in her eye. When she notices him looking at her, she just shrugs. “Couldn’t tell her it was the same thing to me, couldn’t tell her that she is my life. So, now this is my life,” she says, glancing around the brightly lit hallway before locking eyes with him, “And I reckon now it’s getting to be yours, too.”
Tyler weighs out the words stuck in his throat and tries to force himself to say something in response, but it’s then that he hears the clatter of doors sliding open behind him. Cathy’s gaze flits over his shoulder and past him. He turns quickly to see a doctor backing through the door, pulling along a wheelchair-bound Kate behind him. She’s got her leg stretched out in front of her and a sky-blue cast on her right foot, from the ball of her foot to above her ankle. She smiles when she catches sight of Tyler and Cathy.
“Mom!” she says brightly, like nothing’s happened to her at all. “Tyler!”
Tyler is on his feet, Cathy at his side. He feels light-headed, his heart pounding so hard that he can hear the rush of blood in his skull.
Cathy throws up her hands in mock-outrage. “Kate Ann Carter, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?” Tyler knows that Cathy’s putting on this performance for Kate’s sake, but he can’t force himself to do the same.
Kate rolls her eyes—purposefully this time, Tyler notes. He wants to go to her, to wrap her in his arms, but this isn’t some sort of romance movie. He can’t help but touch her, though—to know she’s really there. He shifts closer as he listens to the attending physician telling Cathy what’s going on, and he crouches at Kate’s side. She’s smiling as she brings her hand to his face, lightly brushing her fingers over his forehead and across his cheek.
“Sapulpa,” he says. “You scared the shit outta me.”
“I’m okay,” she replies. He covers her hand with his, presses them both into his cheek, then turns his head to place a kiss in her palm.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Wreck your truck?”
He shakes his head. “Go into a storm without me.”
She bites her lip and opens her mouth as if to protest, but Cathy touches Tyler’s shoulder lightly to coerce him to stand. The doctor nods and turns back to attend to other patients, and another nurse joins them and tells them that he’ll help get Kate settled in her room, where she’ll have to stay overnight for monitoring.
As the nurse helps Kate into her hospital bed, she chatters aimlessly, something that Tyler’s noticed she does when she’s nervous. It tells him that she’s not quite as unshaken as she lets on, but he’s still relieved that she seems so unscathed. She asks about the flower delivery kid, the little girl, and just about every single other person in that hotel. Tyler tries his best to answer what he can, but even though she’s been cleaned up, he can’t stop picturing the crimson blood dripping down her face, matting her hair, covering his hands. He rubs his palms against his jeans as if it’s still there.
By the time Kate is settled and Cathy and Tyler have been debriefed on everything they need to know, it’s already late. The nurses show Kate where the call button is and assure Tyler and Cathy that she’ll be monitored throughout the night. The attending physician wasn’t tremendously worried about the head injury, but Kate had sustained a mild concussion from the accident in El Reno, and two in less than a year is reason enough to observe her for 24 hours. She’s also got a fractured ankle, but luckily, it’s a pretty clean break caused by blunt force trauma, and it shouldn’t need surgery. Kate was able to tell them it happened before she blacked out and was due to something flying around inside the truck while it rolled.
It's just another way that Tyler feels like he’s failed. While he’d been loading his duffle into his mess of a backseat, he’d even thought to himself that he should clean it out before going to pick her up. He’d have never let it get this way during chasing season, but in the off-season, on his treks from farm to farm, he liked having his equipment nearby. Plus, she’d seen his truck in worse shape to that point, and he’d been running late, and basically…he’d come up with every excuse just to get on the road and get this date going. And now he’s here.
“Y’all go back to the house and get some rest,” Kate says.
Cathy and Tyler exchange a glance, but Tyler knows he’s not going anywhere. He’s not sure he’ll ever let her out of his sight again; the thought of leaving this hospital without her steals the air from his lungs.
“I’m fine,” she says, looking between them. “Six weeks with this cast, a couple of weeks with a boot, and I’ll be good as new. You’re hovering like I might keel over at any minute.” She cuts her eyes at Tyler, who’s the main perpetrator. He just looks back at her, trying with all the force of his pounding heart to get her to understand that if she makes him leave, it’ll break him.
He feels Cathy’s eyes on them for a moment before she clears her throat and stands. “Fine. I’ll go home, but I’ll be here first thing in the morning, and I don’t wanna hear you complainin’ about it. Tyler, you want to ride back with me?”
Tyler shakes his head and makes no move to leave the squeaky vinyl recliner at Kate’s bedside. “No, ma’am. I’ll be staying here.”
Kate opens her mouth, but Cathy cuts her off, “I don’t think there’s any point in that, Katie. You mighta met your match as far as stubbornness is concerned.”
She takes a lap around the room to hug them both, gathers up her belongings, and bustles out the door. The room is plunged into stillness; the only sound is the stilted conversation and dull roar of the laugh track on some old sitcom playing on the hospital TV.
After a moment, Kate speaks, “Tyler, you don’t have to stay.”
“Yeah, I do,” he says. She wiggles her fingers alongside her, and he scoots forward to grab her hand. He plays with her fingers gently, just as she’d done to his at the restaurant. It all feels so long ago, though it’s only been hours. “You need something?”
“Just you,” she says. She moves her hand up his forearm to pull him to her, and he goes gladly, hovering over her. She rises to meet him and presses her lips to his. She loops the her other arm around his shoulder and runs her fingers through the soft hairs at the back of his neck. He shivers into her lips and deepens the kiss. He knows it’s far too passionate for a kiss in a hospital room, but he can’t help himself—she’s alive and she’s here and she’s his.
She’s the one to pull back, lips pink and swollen. She lets her head fall back onto the pile of pillows and says with a smirk, “This suite doesn’t look the same as it did in the pictures.”
He presses a kiss to her forehead and pulls away before she catches sight of the unshed tears that sting his eyes.
“What else can I get you?”
Kate finds it adorable that Tyler is hovering. He’s been adamant that she not do anything since he carried her in the front door three hours ago. He got her settled in her bed, foot elevated, pillows fluffed, snacks and water at her bedside. And she’s so utterly amused by his attention to her needs. It’s sweet.
She slept poorly in the hospital. She blames the low grade headache and the pain in her ankle. It’s nothing she can’t handle, but it’s definitely made her uncomfortable. Not enough to not tease him at every opportunity she has though; it’s as if her only purpose in life has become to shake a smile or a laugh out of him.
He was by her side the entire time, and something about him never leaving her feels so good. She feels terrible about the truck, even though she knows she couldn’t have fixed it in that moment, but knowing and trusting he’s more worried about her than the truck makes her feel light. Cared for. Dare she even think to herself that she feels loved? They’ve never said it, and now certainly doesn’t feel like the right time, but it’s how she feels. How he makes her feel.
“You know what I’d really like?” she begins, grinning up at him. He looks exhausted. “I’d like it if you lay down with me.”
His smile is small and she can tell he needs some food, some water, or a nap. “Sapulpa,” he begins and she rolls her eyes because she knows there’s an excuse coming, “you need to lay as still as possible for that ankle. I don’t need you moving about anymore than you absolutely have to.” His heavy sigh makes her giggle.
“I’ll get my sponge bath later though, right?”
His smile brightens slightly. “A sponge bath, huh?”
“Yeah…you know…since I didn’t get to use that big tub in the suite.” She gives him a purposeful look. A series of expressions cross his face so quickly she can’t read them all.
“I’m so sorry, Kate,” he says quietly before, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She takes the opportunity to grab his hand. “Stay,” she asks, “just for a while.”
“Fine,” he relents, laying so carefully next to her she can’t help but furrow her brow and laugh.
“For a man who wanted to ravage me yesterday, you’re awful tentative today,” she kids. He gives her an unamused look and she laughs more. “You’re being ridiculous,” she tells him, leaning to kiss him. He kisses her back, but it's faint and small and she’s left wanting. “I see, he doesn’t find an injured woman attractive.”
“You hush,” he says, kissing her lightly once more. “I always find you attractive. I just don’t want to hurt you is all,” he tells her and she accepts it, leaning back against the pillows.
“Fine. Just rest, okay? You look like I feel.” He glares as she giggles.
He looks odd on her bed, fully dressed, hair a mess. He hasn’t slept or changed since the night before. She’s sure he needs a shower, but she’s hoping she can convince him to nap first. His hand slides into hers and she squeezes it. At least there’s that.
He closes his eyes and as she studies him she thinks over the last fifteen hours.
Something has changed within her. When she’d come back to chase with Javi she wouldn’t have anticipated feeling as she does now after rolling two vehicles and being in countless storms. The desire and excitement grew with every storm they chased. Tyler had helped her find the joy again. And her bravery.
She could have never predicted the truck wouldn’t hold yesterday. She knows this. And somehow she finds comfort in the fact that she feels at peace with what happened. She was scared, but more scared for the life of someone else.
Which makes her look at Tyler. She knows she’s scared him. If roles had been reversed, she’d have been just as afraid. But it’s what they do, it’s who they are. It’s what brought them together. If she hadn’t come back in the first place, would they ever have met? She doesn’t know what she believes.
And if she was being honest, there are other things that scare her more these days than tornadoes.
Losing him is one of them.
She thinks he’s dozing; she hopes. His brows look a little less pinched, his shoulders look a little less tight. She doesn’t want to disturb him so she doesn’t squeeze his hand like she wants to. Instead, she lets her exhaustion take over, and she closes her eyes.
---
She finds herself giggling over the New York Times Connections two days later as her mom glances at her like she might be losing it.
“She’s laughing to herself, Tyler. Should we count her pain meds?” Cathy teases with a straight face.
Tyler doesn’t look up from where he’s staring into his black coffee.
Kate and her mother exchange a look before Kate says, “The pictures are talking to me. They’re telling me to call the FBI and report that Aliens live in the wheat field.” When Tyler doesn’t respond again she cries dramatically, “Damn that hurts!”
His head pops up and his coffee spills on his jeans as he all but dives to her side. “What? What’s wrong, baby?” Kate and Cathy dissolve into giggles and he’s left looking between them with big questioning green eyes. “What? What did I miss?”
“Kate is just trying to get a rise out of you, that’s all,” Cathy says through her laughter, shaking her head. Tyler looks between the women and Kate finds it even funnier.
“And it worked,” Kate says, reaching to grab his hand as he settles onto the couch beside her. “I’m sorry, but you were asleep at the wheel over there,” she teases as her laughter subsides.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Guess you know how to snap me out of it.”
“You’re at my beck and call,” she says playfully, sweeping her hand to her forehead and letting her head relax on the recliner.
“That I am,” he says, but it’s not quite a tease—it’s serious. For a moment she wonders if maybe she’s asking too much of him, but that’s just it: she hasn’t asked much of him at all. He hasn’t spoken much about his plans, about going back to Arkansas or resuming his farmwork. And she hasn’t asked.
“You don’t have to be,” she says, sitting slightly more upright. “You know that, right?”
Cathy chimes in, “Yeah, if only somebody had some nursing experience around here who could take care of you!”
Tyler releases an exhale that could almost pass for a laugh. He hasn’t been himself in the past few days, no matter how much Kate tries to coax him back to normalcy.
“I know I don’t have to be,” he reassures her. “But if I—” He’s cut off by the sound of his phone buzzing against the kitchen table where he’d left it. He looks puzzled for a moment but then seems to understand what the call could be. He squeezes her hand. “I’ll be right back.”
He grabs the phone from the table and steps out the side door and onto the gravel driveway.
“You oughta leave him alone, Katie,” Cathy chides without much conviction.
“Leave him alone? He’s the one following me from room to room!”
Cathy presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows. “You know what I meant. Stop teasing him so much.”
“He’s just been in such a mood since the accident. I’m just trying to get him to give me something.”
“It’s only been two days. You can’t expect someone to get over it quite that quickly.”
“I’m over it,” Kate says, feeling indignant.
“Are you?”
Kate considers this for a moment, but ultimately…she feels like she is. This time wasn’t like the accident that took her friends: this time, it was only her. It had taken her over five years to heal from a broken heart—and she couldn’t deny that it was Tyler (and a good therapist) who helped her get here.
To her, nothing had changed at all in the past two days, other than now she has to navigate the world with crutches and a cast. She still has all the same plans she had before the accident. She’s got research to do, data to collect—the whole shebang. The thing that’s changed is Tyler, and she’s convinced that if she goads him enough, he’ll come back as well.
Tyler opens the side door and pokes his head in, holding the phone away from his ear. “It’s the tow yard,” he says. “Don’t know the full extent of the damage yet, but they wanna know where to bring the truck and…” He trails off, but Cathy seems to understand the implied question.
“Let ‘em bring it here,” she says. “We can park it in the barn. Your landlord won’t want you to have it parked out at that apartment of yours anyway.”
He nods and ducks back out the door for just a moment, leaving it cracked. Kate dimly hears him reciting her address and it makes her chest feel warm. It’s a silly thing, but she likes that he’s got it memorized.
When he comes back in, his expression is pained. Kate suspects it has something to do with the conversation about the truck, either he’s not telling them everything about the damage or just…talking about it has set him off. He hasn’t wanted to talk about the accident since it happened.
He settles back into his spot on the couch, almost instinctively reaching out to collect Kate’s hand in his again.
Cathy clears her throat. “You can stay, too, you know. Not just the truck. You can stay as long as you need.”
Kate wonders about Cathy’s choice of saying “as long as you need” rather than “as long as Kate needs,” but she starts to understand when she sees the relief flood Tyler’s face.
Tyler feels like he hasn’t slept in weeks. In reality, it’s been four days. He’s standing at the front of the barn as a tow truck backs down the driveway with that awful beeping sound that grates on his last nerve.
He glances at the porch at a sudden movement and sees Kate, on crutches, watching. As far as he’s concerned, she shouldn’t be out of bed yet. He shoots her an exasperated look before he needs to direct the tow truck where to drop his truck.
He's glad it’s back. He has been itching to tear it apart and figure out what the hell happened. Somehow this is his fault—he knows it—and he’s going to figure out how.
He pays the driver once the truck is settled and he observes the damage with a heavy sigh. She’s in bad shape. He wonders if she’s fixable. The insurance adjuster had been out to observe it at the impound lot where it was initially towed, but he hadn’t heard back yet on what the status is. Not that it matters. Either way, he’s not going to trust it again.
He put her in danger.
He can’t stop thinking about it.
It’s been consuming him since it happened. The nightmares had come back—the ones he thought he’d gotten rid of months after El Reno—with a vengeance. Everytime he shuts his eyes he sees her running out. And she never returns. Sometimes it’s the same thing over and over. And sometimes…it’s worse. So much worse.
“Damn. I’m so sorry.”
Kate’s voice comes from the barn door, and he can feel himself growing short-tempered by the second. “You should be in bed. You don’t need to see this.”
“I hurt my ankle, not my whole body,” she says with a snarky laugh.
“And you have a head injury,” he reminds her. He doesn’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes.
“A concussion.”
“Same thing.”
“Not really?”
He turns to face her at her question and his heart squeezes. Her hair is a mess, pulled in a low bun with pieces falling out. His sweatshirt—red with Arkansas across the front—hangs off her frame. Black leggings and her knock-off Ugg slippers finish the look. She’s absolutely beautiful. And his heart squeezes again because if something had happened to her…
He softens, walking toward her, arms opening to intercept her before she can see the blood he’s already seen in the front seat. He wraps her up and she leans heavily into him. “I just want to make sure you get back to one hundred percent as soon as possible.” He’s not lying and yet if he could put her in a glass box and hide her away he would.
“Movement is good for me, you know,” she says into his flannel.
“I know. But how about we do some movement around the house, not down here.”
“I can think of some movement we could do… that would allow me to even stay in bed…” She leans back to wiggle her eyebrows at him and while he can’t imagine having sex with her currently, he gives her a small smirk.
“She’s insatiable.”
“She’s still bummed she didn’t get her romantic evening. I hope they refunded you.”
They haven’t talked about it. He feigns another smile. “They did.” He's not lying. But the refund is the least of his concerns.
“Well, we’ll use that night once I’m better then.”
He takes her crutches and leans them against the truck before he scoops her up. She laughs and its music to his ears. He tries to remind himself she’s here and very much alive and he is grateful. But the what ifs and future could happens won’t let him hold space for the joy he wishes he could feel.
---
Another night of pretending to fall asleep beside her. He waits until her breathing slows and her lips fall open just slightly. He watches her, the way her hands are tucked under her head as she lays on her side facing him in the dark, the light of the moon through her curtains illuminating her face. She’s peaceful. He’s envious. But glad one of them is.
He slips out of the bed, trodding as quietly as possible to the door and slipping out to the guest room where his bag lays half unpacked on the bed. Sweatpants off, jeans on and he’s headed for the barn. He’s on a mission. He’s gotta figure out where the wires went bad. Or what fuse blew. He just has to find it.
What’s usually their work space is taken up by the remnants of his Dodge. He feels a sentimental pang as he lets his hand run over the mangled passenger side. She took a hard hit this time. He’s sure the frame is busted for good. How many rollovers can it take? He’s reinforced it time and time again. But he thinks this is the last time.
But maybe that’s for good. Maybe it’s time to consider something else.
What that is, he doesn’t know. He can’t even think that far ahead.
He grabs his toolbox Boone had dropped by off the desk. The Wranglers had come to check in on Kate and bring takeout for dinner. Kate had laughed and carried on with them as she retold the story—what she remembered anyway. Tyler filled in pieces until he felt too nauseated to talk anymore about it. The whole scene already played on repeat in his mind whenever he closed his eyes, and speaking it aloud was even more painful. Bile rose in his throat and he’d had to excuse himself. Kate had made a joke about his sweet, overbearing ways as he’d headed for the small half bath. He was glad he was faking it well. Because inside he was falling apart.
Much like the truck as he climbs on top to where the control box for the augers was. She shifts and groans beneath his weight, broken metal flaking off onto the dirt floor. He makes a mental note to rake before Kate steps on a piece and hurts herself worse.
The control box is just the beginning. Before he knows it, he has parts everywhere. He can’t for the life of him figure out where the short occurred. And with the truck unable to turn on due to her condition, there’s no way to even attempt to try the augers. So he simply disassembles every last piece as he goes, looking for the needle in the haystack his need has become. His need for a reason, for an answer.
“You fuckin’ piece of sh—“
“You been out here all night?”
He jerks his head up in surprise, nailing it on the raised hood. He swallows the curses he wants to yell because he’s not about to curse in front of Cathy. And he probably deserves that whack to the head, he tells himself.
He rubs what he knows will be a knot later and sets down the wrench as Cathy seems to survey the surgery he’s done on the vehicle. “What time is it?”
“Four in the morning.”
He sighs. “Good morning.” It comes out weak.
She hands him a mug of hot coffee. “Figured you could use this. And maybe we could talk.” She takes a seat on one of the desk chairs and gestures for him to take the other. He doesn’t argue and sits, sipping the warm liquid. “Tyler. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine, Cathy. I promise.”
“Mmhm. You act like this is my first rodeo. I may not have raised a son, but I raised a daughter who in many ways is more similar to you than I think either of you realize. So please. Don’t lie to me.”
Tyler is quiet after that. He feels his cheeks heat up and he nods, staring at the dark liquid in his cup.
“Does she know you’re out here?”
“No, ma’am.”
“What do you think she’d say if she knew you were?”
He thinks for a moment. “She’d tell me to stop. And that doing this won’t fix anything.” He feels his throat tightening.
Cathy reaches across the desk and grabs his free hand. “I think she’d tell you she is okay and that this isn’t your fault.”
He’s overwhelmed by the rush of emotion. It bubbles up quickly, his eyes watering. “It is, though. I let her go out there. I let her run after him. I should have stopped her, I should have followed her. I should have gone. It should have been me.”
He can’t look her in the eye because he knows his tears will fall. He’s so tired and his head hurts so much.
“We both know you didn’t let her do anything. And we both know you couldn’t have stopped her. Kate is a force to be reckoned with. Once she puts her mind to something, she’s gonna do it whether we think she should or not. Trust me, I’ve been dealing with that much longer than you have. I know what you’ve gotten yourself into.” She echoes words she used all those months ago.
“My mom died when I was eight. My dad died when I was twenty-five. I can’t lose her too, Cathy. I can’t. And all I can see when I close my eyes is…” A tear falls and he brushes it away. The wetness brings him back to reality. He feels sick again. “Kate’s going to wake up soon. I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ve gotta get inside.”
Cathy releases his hand and studies him. He feels like a little boy again under her heavy gaze. “There’s a fresh pot of coffee on. But maybe you should try to get some sleep first.”
“Yes, ma’am” is all he says as he stands, wiping his tired eyes. “Thank you for the coffee.”
“‘Course, honey. I’m here if you need anything.”
“Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
He leaves her there and leaves the truck in shambles. He’s no closer to any answers at all.
Kate is a week into her recovery, and she thinks that if she has to deal with Tyler hovering for another five weeks, she’s going to explode.
She knows the accident scared him. But she’s been doing everything she can to try to lighten the mood—to somehow prove to him that she’s okay —but it’s just not happening. She’s desperate for things to go back to how they were before. Hell, she doesn’t even care which aspect of the before it is: she’d take anything from cuddling together in bed on a lazy Sunday to trying to talk shop only to be interrupted by Tyler making meteorological terms into sexual innuendo.
But what’s happening now is decidedly not that. Their conversations never go beyond surface level and certainly never go so far as to consider future storm chasing or data gathering.
She’s lucky she still has Javi to talk to about these things. He’s still navigating the world that is Storm PAR without Riggs, but at least he’s not treating her like she’s made of glass. He’d visited shortly after the Wranglers had come by. And they’d gotten straight to business—as they should with only weeks separating them from the spring and the start of their data collection for the project. After some conversation about their plan, Tyler stood from the couch silently and disappeared outside through the side door. She didn’t know why he left or where he went, and she didn’t ask.
And she felt guilty that his exit relieved her, even as she tried to joke it off, just like she’d done with the Wranglers. Though Tyler’s attention had once made her feel adored, even loved, it feels oppressive now. She knows it’s unfair to feel the way she does. She knows she should talk to him—and she would, too, if she thought he’d ever talk back.
Now, she’s sacked out in her mom’s recliner with her legs stretched out in front of her. Cathy sits on the other side of the couch, as the spot closest to Kate had become designated for Tyler. But the spot’s empty, one of the rare occasions that he’s not there, holding her hand over the armrest. He’s only gone to shower, so she knows the time she has is short-lived. She waits until she hears the familiar trickle of water in the pipes and a few minutes after that just for good measure, to make sure he’s in the shower. Then she leans toward her mother.
“Mom, he’s driving me crazy.”
Cathy looks away from the television and scoots across the couch to occupy Tyler’s spot. She gives Kate a little half-smile, one that doesn’t feel quite as sympathetic as Kate had hoped. “He’s just worried about you,” she says.
“I know,” Kate says. She feels a blush creep up the back of her neck.
“I know it can be frustrating, but…he really cares about you.” Cathy speaks like she’s holding something back, and Kate can tell. But she feels so ashamed of herself for complaining about Tyler, she doesn’t push it.
Her embarrassment causes her to snap back, “And I care about him, you know I do.”
“Never said you didn’t.”
“I feel like I’m doing everything I can to show him that I’m okay . I know I’ve got this—” She lifts her casted leg. “—but I really am okay.”
Cathy presses her lips together and nods slightly. “I know you’re okay, Katie…but…has it occurred to you to consider that he’s not?”
A hollow thud in the pipes indicates the upstairs shower has been turned off. Kate swallows her response, not sure what she would say to that anyway. Cathy slides back over to her spot on the couch, and they resume the charade of watching TV until Tyler tromps back down the stairs and into the room. Kate looks up at him, and for the first time in a while, she really sees him. She tries to pull her gaze away, but she can’t.
“What?” he says, looking slightly startled. Though he’s fresh out of the shower—dressed in a red t-shirt and black sweatpants—he still looks disheveled. His eyes are dull, seemingly pushed into his skull by the heavy bags under them. His stubble is longer than he usually keeps it; he rarely goes more than a few days without shaving. She knew that Boone had brought him all of the necessities from their apartment, and she was certain his razor was among them.
He's bad off, and she hasn’t even taken the time to notice. Hasn’t let herself, maybe. She’d convinced herself that her clumsy attempts at jokes and silly little come-ons would fix things. And she’s been too focused on keeping them up, too focused on convincing him that she’s okay, that she hasn’t paid attention. Because her mom was right: she might be okay, but Tyler is not.
“Nothing,” she says. She shifts her gaze to her mom, and Cathy just bows her head. Kate forces a smile and catches Tyler’s arm before he settles back on the couch. “I know it’s still early, but I’m pretty tired. Could you help me up to bed?”
“Absolutely,” he says, mirroring her forced smile. He retrieves her crutches, propped against the living room wall, and helps her from the recliner. She shoves the pads under her armpits and hobbles over to the stairs. “Want me to carry you?” he offers, but she shakes her head.
“Gotta get used to these things,” she says. “Night, Mom.” Tyler echoes her.
“Goodnight, you two.”
Kate takes her time up the stairs with Tyler following closely, arms outstretched and ready to right her if she stumbles. He trails her down the hallway to her room and sits on the bed while she gets ready for bed in the bathroom.
Their nighttime ritual is well-established at this point. He refuses to spend the night with her in her room, refuses to climb under the covers with her, too worried that he’ll jostle her in her sleep. So, he stays with her until she falls asleep and goes to the guest room to sleep for the night. Then he’s in the hallway or at the top of the stairs in the morning when she comes out of the bathroom. First, she’d thought it was sweet, then overbearing, and only now does she wonder how long he lays awake in the guest room or sits alert downstairs, just waiting to hear her stir.
The guilt is heavy in her stomach when she limps back into the room and looks at him again. He’s smiling at her, but the smile doesn’t touch his eyes. She’s not sure the last time it has—maybe not since dinner on Valentine’s Day?
He helps her into bed, holding up the covers as she slides in. When he settles down on top of the comforter, she grabs his hand. “Stay with me tonight,” she says.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he replies, turning on his side to face her.
“You won’t hurt me. You’ve read all the aftercare instructions a dozen times by now. Doesn’t say anything about refraining from sleeping with your boyfriend.”
He raises an eyebrow, and for a moment, there’s a spark of something in his eye, like he wants to tease her with a dirty joke. But he just says, “Maybe next week.”
“You don’t have to stay here with me all day every day,” she says. “I know you’ve got work to do.”
“Everyone knows where I am. They can find somebody else.”
“You should go back to work. You only have a few weeks before storm season.”
He attempts another smile. “You trying to get rid of me?” he asks like he’s joking, but she’s not sure he is.
“Just trying to get back to normal. I’m okay, Tyler.”
He nods. “Maybe next week,” he says again, like next week is some magical line between real life and whatever this is.
She realizes she’s doing it again, trying to force normalcy on him. She clears her throat and squeezes his hand. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine. You seem tired.”
“I’m fine. I’ve just been—I’ve been working on the truck, and sometimes I lose track of time.”
She winces at the mention of the truck. She’d hardly caught a glimpse of it since it had arrived, but she knew the damage was considerable. Though the tornado wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the one in El Reno, a second rollover was bound to be bad news. She hadn’t asked him about it; he still didn’t want to discuss anything related to the accident. She doesn’t ask him about it now, either. “You need to sleep.”
“I know,” he says softly.
“Stay with me tonight,” she says. “Please?”
His eyes search hers until she scoots toward him to press her lips against his. He kisses back, even brings his hand up to frame her face, his tough featherlight. When she pulls away, his smile almost seems real.
“Okay,” he says.
---
When Kate is jolted awake in the night, it takes her a moment for her sleep-addled mind to understand what’s happening. She’s been woken by a repetitive sound, and she soon realizes it’s coming from Tyler. He’s breathing harshly and making sounds almost like whimpers in the back of his throat. His breathing grows ragged, and she worries he’ll hyperventilate. She’s seconds from shaking him awake when he bolts upright in bed, throwing off the covers and rasping her name.
She stays silent as he jars into consciousness, but when she sees his shoulders fall as he leans forward, she gently says, “I’m here, it’s okay.” He doesn’t respond, so she pushes herself up in bed and says, “I’m going to touch you now.” She extends her hand to rub his back.
But as soon as her hand falls between his shoulder blades, he heaves a shaky sob and turns to collapse into her, looping his arms around her body and pressing his damp face into the skin at her collarbone. She’s startled but braces herself enough to slowly lower them back onto the pillow. The man that she’s holding isn’t her Tyler, the brave, silly, sometimes braggadocious, daredevil of a man she’d come to care for. This is someone else: someone who’s exhausted and broken, but someone who needs her.
She keeps rubbing circles in his back, whispering, “It’s okay, you’re okay.” But somehow the more she speaks, the more she seems to be making it worse. She goes silent, breathing slowly and deliberately, and hopes that he’ll follow her lead. It seems to work, and his shaky breaths begin to even out.
Soon, he mumbles an “I’m sorry” into her chest and moves to pull away. But she wraps her arms around him as best she can to prevent it.
“Talk to me,” she says. “Please.” She feels foolish begging, but he’s scaring her now.
He’s silent for a long moment before he finally says, “When I close my eyes, I lose you. Every time. I see you…drive into that tornado. I see you go out those doors. I know it’s happening, and I know I can’t do anything.”
“Every night since Friday?”
“Since…you went back to New York,” he admits, like it pains him. The answer shocks her, and he must hear the breath catch in her throat. Quickly, he says, “I mean, not every night since then. Just…the nightmares, I’ve had them since then. Just…not as recently since you’ve been back.”
“Ty—”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Shh, hush. I want you to tell me.” She drops a kiss into his hair. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
“I know,” he says, his voice small.
“I’m right here,” she says. It feels useless. But she’s had her fair share of nightmares, and she can’t help but think of the relief she’d have felt if the person she dreamed of losing was…actually beside her. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
He nods and briefly tightens his hold on her. She feels some small comfort that he’s actually spoken to her, that he’s told her about his nightmares, and that he’s letting her hold him. She doesn’t push the conversation further, but she hopes maybe they’re moving toward something like healing. That maybe they’ll wake up together in the morning and watch silly videos on her phone, or argue about answers to the morning crossword, or even just talk.
They remain in still silence, holding each other, until Kate’s eyelids grow heavy and sleep finds her. At some point, she feels Tyler shift away from her, and she thinks maybe he’s just moving back to a more comfortable position on his own pillow. Caught in the space between sleep and wake, she reaches across to touch him again, but he’s gone.