The tornado shifts suddenly, its path veering northward. I adjust Girthmaster’s position accordingly, keeping him at a safe distance.
I watch the tornado shifting further away, its form growing smaller as it moves toward the horizon.
“There it goes,” I mutter as the tornado begins to shift further northeast, moving away from our optimal viewing position. “It’s heading toward the county line.”
“Do we follow it?” he asks, turning to me with a sharp glint in his eyes—the one that tells me he’s fully engaged, hungry for more data.
I guide Girthmaster back toward us, preparing for retrieval as I consider our options. The tornado is moving at a decent clip now, probably 25-30 miles per hour, heading across empty farmland. We could chase it, get another hour of data collection if we’re lucky.
But as I look at Jonah—rain-soaked, half-dressed, with his shirt buttoned wrong and I make a different calculation.
“Let’s let this one go.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Really? We could easily?—”
“There will be other tornadoes,” I cut him off, guiding Girthmaster to a smooth landing a few feet away. “But how many chances will we get to mark off another item on my sex bucket list?”
“What did you have in mind?”
I grin at him, biting my lower lip in a way that I know drives him absolutely crazy. “Number six.”
His breath catches. I can feel his heart hammering against his chest where we’re pressed together. “And what exactly is item number six?”
I lean up on my tiptoes, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, “Using the handcuffs that I might have found in the glove box, and a headboard,” I pause, letting the words settle. “But here’s the thing—it requires dropping Max off with Auntie Emily for a few hours.”
His hands tighten on my waist. “How close is Emily’s apartment?”
“About thirty minutes. She’s been texting me all week about missing her favorite furry nephew.” I drag my teeth along his earlobe. “And I might have asked her if she could take him tonight.”
“Handcuffs” he repeats, his voice gone rough and low. “A headboard.”
“And my mouth around your cock while you’re tied to it,” I add, just to watch his pupils blow wide. “I want to suck you until you’re begging me to stop. And then I want to fuck you while you’re completely at my mercy.”
“Aren’t I always?”
I grin up at him. “Help me pack up?”
We dismantle the chase in record time. Jonah is already breaking down the instrument array before I’ve even closed Girthmaster’s controller case. I watch him work and something about it makes me laugh out loud. He shoots me a look. Not embarrassed. Just impatient. He reaches past me and collapses the last tripod in one clean motion.
I take one last look at the horizon.
The tornado is smaller now, blurred by distance and rain, already becoming something we’ll talk about later instead of something we’re inside of. A story instead of a pursuit.
For so long, I thought it was the storms that twisted me, bent me into someone who only felt alive in the middle of chaos.
But standing here, soaked to the skin, with Jonah beside me and the storm slipping away, I understand it wasn’t the wind or the pressure or the violence of the sky.
It was him.
Somewhere along the way, without permission or warning, he learned exactly how to twist my heart and make me want to stay.
Like many storm chasers of my generation, this all started withTwister.
I was ten years old when the movie came out in 1996, and from the moment I watched Bill and Jo drive directly toward a tornado, I was hooked. Which is funny, because weather terrified me. Honestly, it still does. But somewhere along the way, that fear turned into respect. There’s something awe-inspiring about standing in the presence of a force so much bigger than yourself. Tornadoes are beautiful, terrifying, unpredictable, and absolutely deserving of caution.
That didn’t stop me from watchingTwisterenough times to completely wear out my VHS copy. If you're too young to know what a VHS tape is, congratulations on your healthy jointsand your lack of emotional attachment to rewinding movies before returning them. For the rest of us, thank goodness for streaming.
As I got older, my fascination with severe weather never really went away. ThenStorm Chaserscame along, and suddenly there were real people doing the thing I'd dreamed about since I was ten. Reed Timmer and Team Dominator became a regular fixture in our house every spring. Some couples have sports seasons. My husband and I have tornado season. Every year we'd settle in and obsessively watch live streams, radar feeds, and storm intercepts like it was the most important television event of the year.
