I hear him rustling through my belongings, and then his voice comes again, closer to the door this time. “Found it. You know, if you need more time in there?—”
“I'm fine,” I snap, turning off the water with perhaps more force than necessary. “I'm getting out now.”
“Take your time,” Lucas says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice even through the door. “Seriously. No rush.” I hear him shuffle away from the bathroom, laughing to himself while I stand there under the spray questioning every life choice that brought me to this exact moment.
I turn the water off and stand there for a second longer, steam curling thick around me while exhaustion finally starts settling into my bones. I drag a towel around my waist, drying off. I grab a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt from my bag, and get dressed before I step out of the bathroom.
Lucas is sprawled across one of the motel beds eating peanut M&Ms. The second he sees me, his grin widens.
“So,” he says. “Were you thinking about when you grabbed her boob or how close you were in the truck with her? Curious minds have to know.”
I throw a motel pillow directly at his face. It misses and he cackles loudly, and doesn’t stop until I drown him out when I put my headphones on, and climb into bed.
LILA
I'm wokenby the shrill sound of my phone vibrating across the nightstand like an angry bee. Groaning, I fumble in the dark, knocking over what feels like a water bottle before my fingers close around the offending device.
“This better be good,” I mutter, squinting at the too-bright screen. Emily's face smiles back at me, blissfully unaware she's calling at—I check the time—5:43 AM.
I swipe to answer. “Em, seriously? The sun isn't even up.”
“You’re alive!” My sister’s tone is way too chipper for this hour. “Did you forget phones work both ways?”
I sit up, rubbing sleep from my face. “Been busy. There was this system moving through Oklahoma?—”
“I know. I’ve been glued to the Weather Channel since you stopped answering my texts.” Her tone shifts, irritation giving way to worry. “That EF-3 that hit yesterday? Please tell me you weren’t anywhere near that.”
“Not chasing, exactly.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, wincing as my bare feet hit the cold, thin carpet. “More like…it was chasing me.”
“Lila!” She’s loud enough that I pull the phone away. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is Dad’s truck okay?” The questions spill out so fast I can barely follow.
“I’m fine, Em. Just tired.” I run a hand through my tangled curls. “And yeah, I got closer than I planned, but I’m okay. Truck’s fine too.”
She lets out a long breath. “One day you’re going to give me a heart attack, you know that? Mom’s worried sick too.”
Guilt twists in my stomach. I should’ve called before I passed out last night, but between the tornado, pulling Dr. Reed out of danger, and sorting through this possible collaboration, it slipped.
“I’ll call Mom later today, I promise.” I lower my tone, glancing toward the thin motel wall. “Look, things are a little complicated right now.”
“Complicated how? Tornado complicated or something else?”
I hesitate, unsure how to explain. “I might’ve been asked to work with a university researcher.”
“With a researcher?” Emily’s tone jumps with surprise. “That’s amazing, Lila! This could get you out of the field and into something safer.”
“What? No, that’s not?—”
“Is it a position? Like analyzing data in a lab instead of driving into tornadoes?” The hope in her words is clear. “Because that would be amazing. Mom would be so relieved.”
I press my fingers against my temple, feeling a headache forming. “Em, it's not what you think. He wants to come with me. In the field.”
“Oh.” The single syllable deflates with disappointment. “So you'd still be chasing, just with someone tagging along?”
“That's the idea. His research could be groundbreaking. The implications alone for an advanced warning system would be amazing,” I stand up, stretching my stiff muscles. “Think about how many lives that could save.”
“I'm thinking about your life,” Emily says quietly. “Every time you chase one of these monsters, I wonder if it's going to be like Dad all over again.”
The guilt stabs through me. “This is different. I'm careful.”
