“Gale?”
He dragged his attention to me.
“I’m sorry I roped you into this. If it helps, they’re mad at me and not you.”
He nodded but didn’t seem any more reassured.
When I reached for his hand, he stepped back, eyeing the command room. “We should head to bed.” Without meeting my gaze, he ducked his chin and walked off without another word.
I didn’t go to my room. Elliott would be there, and I wasn’t in the mood for more lectures, nor did I feel like explaining myself. I sat on the hood of my car like Gale and I had done earlier and gazed at the semi-overcast sky. Every so often, the clouds parted, giving me a glimpse of stars.
What was I doing? Between the show, Gale, and my mother, I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I pulled out my phone and filtered through the endless texts that had come through earlier in the evening. Six from Vern and Olivia. Three from Charles. Only one from my mother. That was odd.
I wanted to text Gale, but once again, I’d forgotten to get his number.
Although it was late and I risked confrontation, I text my motherNot dead in a ditch. I love you.
I woke shivering and damp the following morning on the hood of my car, Charles beside me, shouting, “Get up, Devereaux.”
Groggy, wet, sore, and chilled to the bone, I groaned and sat, peering around the parking lot in confusion.
“Serves you right if they kicked you out. What the hell were you thinking last night? My God, kid. I fight for you, and this is what you do?”
I blinked at the ornery producer as a mild headache bloomed behind my eyes. My teeth chattered. “They didn’t kick me out.”
“You’re going to catch your death sleeping out here in the damp. Come on. I’ll buy you a coffee. We need to chat.”
I followed him to the diner across the street and huddled in a booth. Once I had my hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee and I’d placed an order with the waitress, he lay in.
“Look, I’m not mad.”
I frowned. “That’s not what I heard.”
“I’m unhappy about a few things, but I can spin this in our favor. In fact, your little stunt helped the narrative I was going for, so in a way, it worked out.”
I wasn’t sure I understood and was too tired to ask him to explain.
“You saw action?”
I thought of Gale splayed out on the hood of my car. Touching him. Kissing him. Making him come.
I cleared my throat. “We saw a tornado. Yes.”
“Excellent. Did you record it on your phone at least?”
“No.”
Charles sighed and swiped a hand down his face.
“Gale took pictures.”
“How does that help?”
I shrugged.
“Listen, Oz, I like the act of defiance. I like that you broke up the team and pissed everyone off. I like the arguments. The shouting matches. The name-calling. Hell, if you want to knock Jazz’s lights out, I’m all for it. I’ve given you the freedom to chase storms and foot the bill for your travel expenses. In exchange, I asked for one thing.” He tapped his finger on the table for emphasis. “Do you remember what that is?”
“Record everything.”
