“Left at this intersection,” I say, pointing ahead. “There's a dirt access road that should give us a clear view of the approach.”
Jonah pulls onto the dirt road, bringing the truck to a stop on higher ground that gives us a clear vantage point. The storm system looms on the horizon, clouds stacking into massive towers against the sky. Even from here, I can see the rotation beginning to form.
“This is exactly what we need,” I say, reaching for the door handle with my good arm.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jonah cuts in, his hand shooting out to stop me.
“Getting out to set up?”
“No.” The firmness in his tone catches me off guard. “You’re staying in the truck. I’ll handle the equipment.”
I stare at him, not quite believing it. “I can help.”
“You’re staying put until everything’s set up and I know it’s safe for you to be outside.”
“Excuse me?” I blink at him, sure I misheard. “You’re telling me to stay put? In my own truck?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His tone shifts—calm, firm, impossible to argue with. “You’re on painkillers that literally warn against operating heavy machinery.”
“I'm not planning to operate machinery. I'm planning to stand next to it with a camera.”
“Which requires balance, coordination, and the ability to react quickly if conditions change.” He's already gathering equipment from the back seat. “All things that are currently compromised by your injury. Passenger princess, remember?”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it again when a wave of dizziness hits me just from turning my head too quickly. Damn it. He's right, and we both know it.
“Fine,” I mutter, slumping back against the seat. “But I want the camera settings exactly how I like them. And make sure the?—”
“—tripod is secured with additional weights because of the high winds. I know.” He's already halfway out the door, arms full of equipment.
The door closes before I can respond, leaving me alone with Max, who gives me a sympathetic whine from the back seat.
“Don't you start,” I tell him. “He’s bad enough.”
Through the windshield, I watch Jonah set up the equipment with surprising competence. He checks the tripod stability first, pressing each leg firmly into the dirt the same way I always do before adjusting the camera settings. He positions everything at the exact angle I would have chosen for tracking the approaching storm, then pauses to double-check the horizon line before moving on to his own gear.
More unsettling is the realization that he learned a lot of it from me. He’s been paying attention—really paying attention. Not just to storm structure and equipment placement, but to my habits, my routines, the little things I do without thinking. And judging by the way he glances toward the truck before pretending not to, maybe in more ways than one.
Max whines softly beside me, his paws scratching at the window as he watches Jonah work.
“I know, buddy,” I mutter. “Being sidelined sucks.”
The painkillers are making my thoughts fuzzy around the edges, but the electricity of the chase hums through my veins. The storm on the horizon is a monster. Even from here, I can see the distinctive greenish tint that signals prime tornado conditions.
Jonah glances back at the truck, his expression unreadable from this distance. He's been out there for nearly ten minutes, and the equipment appears ready. What's he waiting for?
As if hearing my thoughts, he starts walking back toward the truck, his stride purposeful despite the strengthening wind that ruffles his hair and tugs at his clothes. He looks different somehow. Like he belongs out here.
The passenger door opens, and cool air rushes in, carrying the electric scent of the approaching storm.
“Everything's set up,” Jonah says, extending his hand toward me.
“I’m allowed to come out now?”
Jonah sighs. “If you let me help you. I don’t want to know the creative ways your sister would kill me if you hurt yourself again.”
“I don't need—” I start to protest, but another wave of pain shoots through my shoulder. “Fine.”
I place my good hand in his, surprised by the warmth of his palm against mine. His grip is firm but gentle as he helps me ease out of the truck, steadying me when my feet touch the ground. Max slips from the backseat and follows me out of the truck.
