“Too late,” he replies lightly. “I’ve already updated my faculty bio to include ‘Superman-adjacent.’”
I snort, then immediately regret it as pain shoots through my shoulder. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”
“Sorry,” Jonah adds, though the smirk on his face says otherwise. “Let me help you into the truck.”
“I can manage.” I reach for the door handle, but a wave of dizziness hits me, making the world spin. I grab the side mirror to steady myself, hating the weakness in my body.
Jonah doesn't comment, just opens the passenger door and hovers close enough to catch me if I fall but not so close that I feel smothered. It's a perfect balance that I grudgingly appreciate.
“Fine,” I mutter, accepting his outstretched hand as I climb awkwardly into the passenger seat. The leather interior welcomes me like an old friend, but it feels strange being on this side of the cab.
Max jumps into the back seat without prompting, settling onto his blanket with a contented sigh. He's adapting to this new life faster than any of us.
“So,” I say, once Jonah slides behind the wheel, “Are we really chasing today or was that all a ploy to get me into the truck?”
“You figured out my evil plan to hold you hostage in a motel room.”
I narrow my eyes at him, unsure if he’s actually teasing or if the pain medication is playing tricks on me.
“You can’t honestly tell me that had I said no, and kept you prisoner that you wouldn’t have stolen your keys and gone anyway. Per your own admission, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gone out on a tornado joyride.” He pauses, taking a long, hard look at me. “Unless you've reconsidered your 'from the passenger seat' plan?”
“No, I just...” I trail off, unsure how to express my surprise. Yesterday, he was a reluctant participant at best, and now, he’s fully supporting my stupidity. “Who are you, and what happened to my professor?”
“I had all night to think about what you said.”
“About the Clark Kent thing?”
He laughs, adjusting the driver's seat to accommodate his long legs. “No, about the research mattering. About how people need better warning systems.” His voice takes on a more serious tone. “I watched you nearly bleed out yesterday. How is that any different from civilians getting caught off guard by unpredictable tornado paths?”
I stare at him, trying to reconcile this new version of Jonah. “So what, now you're all in? Just like that?”
“I'm a scientist, Lila. When presented with compelling evidence, I adjust my hypothesis.” He starts the engine, therumble vibrating through the seat. “And yesterday provided very compelling evidence that field research matters.”
“Even with a one-armed storm chaser and a rescue dog?”
“Especially with those.” His eyes meet mine briefly before returning to the road as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Besides, I've been studying your previous chase footage. I think I can handle the driving while you navigate.”
I lean my head back against the seat, suddenly exhausted despite having just woken up. The pain medication leaves everything soft around the edges, but I’m clear-headed enough to notice the shift in Jonah.
He' s calmer now that I' m out of the hospital. Still hovering—I catch him glancing over every few seconds in my peripheral vision, like he's waiting for me to tip sideways. But, the tension is slowly loosening the farther we get from the hospital. Something that looks a lot like the way my dad used to watch my mom sleep off migraines on the couch. Alert in case I need him, but distant enough away to respect my space.
The thought of Dad catches me off guard, the ache of missing him suddenly sharp. I shift in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position that doesn't put pressure on my injured shoulder.
“I called your sister last night, like you asked.”
I sit up straighter, my good hand gripping the edge of the seat. “Shit, I completely forgot about that. How did it go?”
Jonah adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “She was concerned.”
“Understatement of the year. Emily's the queen of concern.”
“She wanted to book the next flight out,” he continues, checking the mirror before changing lanes. “Said she'd be here by this afternoon if I hadn't talked her down.”
My stomach drops. “Please tell me you stopped her.”
“I did.” He glances over at me. “I told her you were stable, that the injury wasn't as bad as it looked, and that you were in good hands.”
I snort. “Good hands? That's debatable.”
