CHAPTER ELEVEN : OKLAHOMA SMOKESHOW

ARLINGTON, OKLAHOMA

BEFORE THEY SET OUT, KATE TOSSES WILLOW HER CAMERA BAG, INSITING SHE TAKES IT FOR THE RIDE. Willow hadn't thought to bring it on their first chase back, but she knows it's always been essential for Kate to capture every angle of the storms they hunt, filling walls with maps and photos like some kind of tornado detective. With Kate busy riding alongside Javi, more focused on getting him positioned in front of the storm than on documenting it, she entrusts the responsibility to Willow.

Now, as Scott speeds down the rough dirt road, Willow fiddles with the camera, letting the silence thicken between them. She doesn't have any interest in conversation—not even casual remarks to drown out the awkward quiet.

"I'm getting the feeling you don't like me much now," Scott finally comments, gripping the wheel tightly as he navigates the uneven road. The Wranglers' convoy is strung out in front of them, peeling toward the storm.

It wasn't like she had anything going for him before; not with his rude dismissal of her suggestions, even though he tried to smooth it over by attempting to recruit her. "Yeah, well," she mutters, unable to keep the edge out of her voice, "you were a jerk to Kate."

"She lied," he retorts, his gaze flicking toward her. "She was scared—"

"Not of the tornado," Willow snaps, cutting him off, her eyes narrowed as she looks over at him.

(Willow wonders what he knows, how deep his friendship with Javi runs, or if it is only really a business partnership.

He would know, wouldn't he? If they were close, and if he did, is he that much of an asshole that he cannot consider their past?)

She sighs, looking away. "Can we just focus on the storm?" She takes Scott's silence as agreement.

Just then, Javi manages to push the fleet past the Wranglers, first overtaking the caravan, then Tyler's truck. He's already glancing over by the time they slide up beside him. A frown settles on his face when he spots her in the passenger seat of Scott's vehicle instead of Javi's. She tries to give him a reassuring smile, but all she can manage is something tight-lipped, tainted by her exasperation. His frown deepens, and she can feel his silent disapproval across the space between them.

Yeah, she's not thrilled to be here either.

"You sure it's gonna give us something?" Scott asks, his eyes darting between the road and the clouds.

"It's got a solid structure," she replies; she'll never pass up on talking about a storm. "Moisture levels are perfect. High CAPE. Shear is clean, and it's pulling tons of warm, moist air from the south." The conditions are the best she's seen in ages. "It's gonna give us more than just 'something.'"

Willow waits, holding her breath as the clouds swirl and darken, sensing the birth of a storm. She is on the edge of her seat when she sees the slender funnel stretch down to earth, her eyes widening with awe. A bright smile spreads across her face—it's that same rush again, the one she's felt a hundred times before, the thrill of watching nature unleash its raw power across the open fields.

For a moment, she forgets it's Scott there, not Javi, instinctively glancing over at him, her face a mirror of pure wonder. To her surprise, she catches what might be the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"That's at least an EF2," she says, lifting her camera and snapping the first few shots. Through the viewfinder, she watches the rotation pick up speed, debris spinning as it carves a path across the earth. Just then, something else flickers in the distance. She pulls the camera away, gasping. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"What?" Scott's brow furrows in confusion.

"You're telling me you don't see that?" Her voice is thick with awe, her eyes wide as she looks back at him."Twins!"

It's a rare sight, one she wishes she could share with Kate before anyone else. With an urgency born from years of chasing, she raises her camera, eager to capture every second. But just as she lines up the perfect shot, Javi's truck edges into the frame, blocking her view. Undeterred, she immediately begins rolling down the window, captivated, her thoughts wholly consumed by the breathtaking scene unfolding.

"Ms. Thornton, what are you—?" Scott's voice barely registers as she unbuckles her seatbelt, his warning lost in the wind. "You're supposed to remain in the vehicle—"

She ignores him, sliding herself out of the passenger window with a practiced ease. The wind roars around her as she perches on the window frame, gripping the roof rack to steady herself. This feels second nature; she's done this dozens of times before—to adjust radars, to shout into the storm for the thrill of it. With her other hand, she raises her camera, capturing the rare sight of the twin tornadoes dancing around each other. It is mystifying through the lens as she watches the twins spin around a common center, almost as if they are fighting for dominance.

"The Fujiwhara Effect," she laughs, more to herself than anyone else, awe spilling from her. She snaps photo after photo. Even though she knows Kate can't hear her, she can't help but shout, "Kate, it's the Fujiwhara Effect!"

From behind her, she hears Boone holler over the roar of the wind, his voice booming with excitement. "Now that's a real chaser if I've ever seen one!"

Willow twists to look back and catches Boone with his own camera pointed at her, capturing the moment himself. She nods toward the twins out before them, a little gesture asking are you seeing this?

Beyond him, through the windshield of his truck, she spots Tyler. His grin stretches wide as he watches her, unable to tear his eyes away, full of admiration. His gaze flicks between the road and her, drawn back to her again and again, her silhouette framed in the wild sky.

Well, if she can't share the moment with Kate, she thinks she might be alright sharing it with him like this.

(And if Tyler hadn't been down bad before, he's head over heels now, his heart tumbling as he watches her. In that instant, he sees a life mapped out together, chasing across Tornado Alley, a future spent side by side in his truck.

He's always felt the pull to chase her, but now he's certain—she's a storm herself, fierce and unrestrained, alive in a way she doesn't even realize.)

"Willow!" Scott's shout breaks through, a final attempt to pull her back in. With a sigh, she slides back into the car, buckling in as Scott rolls up her window and clicks the lock for good measure. She rolls her eyes, but a mocking smile tugs at her lips at his disgruntled expression.

"I was perfectly safe," she assures him, though Scott doesn't look convinced. Willow turns her attention back to the twin tornadoes, hating the seconds she's lost, the rare sight slipping by without her full attention.

"One will die out," she eventually says, thinking out loud, watching the twins break away from one another. One twin will always overtake the other. The conditions supporting the dead twin can always raise the other too, strengthening the winning storm.

Scott's headset crackles with an update she can't hear. "Numbers are saying it'll be the one on the left," he relays.

Willow isn't as sure about it as he is. "Scott, if we learn anything on this chase together, you gotta know numbers aren't always right," she tries to teach him. "Weather even its predictability, is unpredictable."

Just then, Tyler's truck surges forward, practically flooring it to pass them. He catches her eye as he speeds by, this time throwing a smirk her way as if he's challenging her. Willow feels her pulse quicken, ready to play that game as he overtakes Javi as well.

Scott shifts uncomfortably as it pains him even to ask, but he grits, "Alright, then what are you seeing?" His reluctance to trust her perspective almost makes her laugh. Still, she gives him credit for meeting her halfway, even if grudgingly.

Willow studies the storm out her window, watching as the twins start to pull farther apart, splitting in opposite directions as they approach a fork in the road. The readings favor the right twin, but she's learned to watch for the subtle, instant shifts, the signals the instruments can miss. Alongside them, the wheat fields sway violently, nature's own gauge for how the wind patterns are shifting.

"Inflow's cranking on the right, but..." Her voice trails off as she catches it—a subtle redirection, barely a hint, but it's enough. The winds pivot, forcing north, bending the wheat in an entirely different direction. Her instincts kick in, and she calls it: "Left, we've gotta go left!"

Without hesitation, Javi veers left, the sudden movement confirming that Kate saw the same shift. Scott grumbles into his earpiece, shooting a question to both of them. "You sure? The right's got the stronger numbers."

Javi doesn't waver, and Scott reluctantly steers them left. Meanwhile, the Wranglers, oblivious to the shift, barrel down the right path in their red truck and caravan, chasing what's already the losing storm.

"Even Owens is going right," Scott points out, almost defensively.

Willow hides a grin. "Bet he missed how the wind supply just cut off for the right twin and pushed north," she says. It only takes a minute or two of watching in the side mirror to see the right twin dissipate, the left twin still roaring ahead of them. "Told you so," she boasts, unable to keep the grin off her face now at Scott's scowling.

Ahead, the tornado rages, and Scott's headset crackles with orders from StormPAR: divide and conquer. He swerves sharply off the road, positioning them in the field as close as safety allows.

"We need to be on our game," Scott says, all business "Get these PARs in the ground."

Willow nods, feeling the weight of his words. "I've got it." She won't freeze—not this time. She's proven to herself she can hold steady in the storm's path, now it's time to get the job done.

Scott's intensity sharpens as he parks and takes the right field, skirting the funnel's edge. He tosses her another set of those dreadful goggles, already pushing out of the SUV. Willow grabs her pair, following him around to the trunk where they drag out the PAR system and carry it out into position With debris whipping around, Willow stomps down the anchoring system on her side, feeling it click in beneath her heel. Scott boots up the sensors, the bright blue lights flashing to life before he waves them back to the SUV.

"Scarecrow's up!" he shouts into the earpiece, voice almost lost in the wind. "Scarecrow's up!"

Scott pulls the SUV back, reversing to avoid the tornado's dust shield. Willow is panting, adrenaline surging through her veins. Once they're at a safe distance, he parks and glances down, adjusting the laptop on the console, his gaze fixed and calculating. Willow slides out of the SUV, shading her eyes from the sun with her hand so she can still catch all the action. Somewhere out there, Kate and Javi are still in the thick of it, making this chase worth the risk.

"All PARs are active, Javi," she finally hears Scott announce, and a thrill shoots through her—Kate did it.

"How are the readings?" Willow asks, her voice laced with awe.

"Coming in strong," he replies. She smiles, exhaling in disbelief before her gaze shifts back to the storm.

But then, with a sudden, fierce lurch, the tornado shifts.

"Oh my god," she breathes, watching the storm's new trajectory. It's a sharp pivot—right toward the white truck in the distance. Panic shoots through her as she realizes who's in its path. "Kate! Javi!"

She's halfway from the SUV before she knows it, not even realizing it until someone is holding her back. Before she can get any further, Scott's arm is around her waist, hauling her back.

"You can't just run into a tornado!" he shouts at her.

"They're in there!" She fights against his hold, desperate. "They could—" Her voice catches on the word, terror gripping her heart. They could disappear, just like before. This time, there might be no coming back, no time or distance to bridge the gap, like Addy and Jeb and Praveen and Bill—

Scott cuts in again. "You won't help them if you get yourself killed!"

She knows he's right, somewhere beneath the flood of panic and memories, but it doesn't stop her from struggling against him, her thoughts spiraling right back to under that overpass, the moment she lost everything. Lord, is this what Javi felt like? Absolutely helpless, knowing his friends are in the direct path of the very thing that could kill them, that did kill half of them? She feels the tears sting her eyes as she cries out.

Scott lifts her and carries her back into the passenger seat. He shuts the door before rounding back to his own spot. "They'll be fine," he says, but the words barely register as she watches the white truck vanish behind the swirling twister. Willow's hands shake, her breath ragged as she prays for them, clinging to the hope. It's only an EF2—maybe an EF3 at most. There's a chance they'll make it without a scratch on them.

The storm pushes past, leaving a calm eeriness in its wake as if it had never threatened them at all. In the distance, she can just make out the truck, battered but still there. Willow strains to see any movement, glancing anxiously at Scott, hoping he's hearing something reassuring on the comms.

But Scott's attention is glued to the laptop, muttering about the PARs as if the storm she nearly threw herself into and Javi's safety mean nothing to him. To him, it's all numbers and data. Willow couldn't care less about any of it right now—not when her family was nearly taken by a damn tornado.

"Give me your comms," she demands.

"What? No."

"Scott, give me it, or so help me—" She's prepared to wrestle it from him if she has to. With an exasperated sigh, Scott slips the earpiece from his ear and hands it over. Willow's fingers tremble as she slides it on.

"Javi?" she calls out. "Javi, can you hear me?"

A crackle, then his voice fills her ear. "Hey, Will." He doesn't know how much ease the sound his voice brings her. She closes her eyes, exhaling shakily with her hand against her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. "We're okay. We just killed some chickens." Willow lets out a shaky laugh. It's like he knows what she just needs to hear. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm good," she replies, her voice still quivering. Willow glances up to Scott who waits expectantly. "Scott wants to talk to you."

She slips off the earpiece and hands it back to Scott, leaning into the headrest as her breathing calms. Scott steps out of the SUV to continue his conversation, leaving Willow alone to pull herself together. She wipes at her eyes, erasing the traces of her tears now that she knows they're okay.

(They always would have been, right? She wasn't in that truck, calling the shots like last time. She'd stayed back, the danger held at arm's length, survival still a plausible outcome.

But there's no one here to tell her how irrational that thought is, how it had never been her fault even in the first place.)

When the conversation seems to wrap up, Willow finally steps out of the SUV. Scott seems tense, his broad shoulders tight with his hands on his hips. He had been frustrated about the PARs earlier, but she had been too in her own head to mind to understand. She crosses her arms over her chest, approaching Scott carefully. "What'd he say?"

"Third PAR went down," Scott admits. "The tracker's still on. We just need to find it and download the data."

"I told you the weight wouldn't hold up," she responds, watching his jaw clench. She decides not to press on that anymore. She glances up towards the horizon, the storm creating distance between them now. "It's still going," she acknowledges.

"Path's tracking toward the next town over, Crystal Springs."

"It's gonna hit somewhere?" Her stomach twists, knowing what kind of damage it could cause. "We should go. Someone might need help."

"You're in no condition to help," he says, looking her over. Willow knows she's rattled, but that's part of chasing—the weight of risk doesn't just vanish. "Besides, they got the warning. We need to find the radar first; that data's what matters."

Willow scoffs, loud. "Scott, the data doesn't matter for shit if we ignore the people it's meant to help," she tells him. He doesn't respond immediately and avoids her gaze. Willow takes a closer step forward with her brows furrowed. "You are doing this to help people, right?"

He hesitates. "At the end of it all, but what can we do for them now?"

"Assist with search and rescue, be there to offer support," she replies, frustration simmering. She's done it before—been right there in the aftermath, piecing together fragments of people's lives. "A real chaser doesn't ignore the people affected. We're out here for them."

(Jo ran to Aunt Meg in 1996, pulling her from the rubble, clearing her house alongside Bill. Willow remembers how her aunt told the story—how Bill climbed into that crumbling house, carrying Meg and Mose out, promising her loved ones their lives back.

There is always something you can do.)

Scott narrows his eyes. "So you're not just here to prove you're as good as your family? Prove that you're not just some screw-up?"

Willow recoils. She'd heard those words before, the reason she kept her family ties quiet, but coming from this stranger—someone who acted like he wouldn't judge her, who didn't even know the half of it—it cut deeper than she expected. "Is that..." Her voice drops. "Is that what Javi told you?" He's the only one who knows her fears that intimately, shared in the van, right before it all went to shit: the one person she thought would never betray them.

Scott's silence is answer enough.

"Fine," she says, her voice hardening. "Then go look for your radar. Good luck." She turns and walks away, leaving Scott behind, her boots crunching through the debris-strewn ground. She veers from the truck, not sure she can face Javi right now, not when his silence might confirm everything.

"Where are you going?" he calls after her.

"Away from you," she shouts over her shoulder, refusing to look back. "Have fun finding the PAR, asshole!"

Willow hears him call after her, but she doesn't pause, doesn't turn around.

Instead, she raises her hand and throws up a very classy middle finger over her shoulder, striding away without a second glance.

◆ ◆ ◆

SHE ISN'T SURE HOW LONG SHE'S BEEN HIKING FOR, BUT HELL IS SHE STOPPING. The sheer force of anger pushes her ahead, Kate's camera bag strapped to her chest. She half-thinks Javi will find her first, force her into the truck where she will squeeze them both for dear life, and then proceed to bite his head off for whatever the hell he's been sharing with his asshole partner. Or, perhaps, it'll be Scott, who she will continue to refuse until her feet wear out and she will still determine the mud of Arlington, Oklahoma her final resting place.

Whatever keeps her the hell away from him.

Willow doesn't look when she hears the power of an engine behind her. For a moment, she thinks it's the latter and pushes on, stomping through the mud, hoping some of it clings to the pretty white paint of the StormPAR SUV and stains it.

"I am not—" She starts out, her voice laced with venom.

"I don't think I've seen a mule more stubborn than you," comes a familiar voice. Tyler.

Relief bubbles up in Willow as she glances over and sees his red truck. It's full—Boone is in the back with the reporter, Ben, and the girl with the drone is in the passenger seat. Tyler leans across the console, the passenger window rolled down, just so he can get a good look at her.

Willow stops in her tracks and lets out a sigh. "I thought you were Scott."

"Better be the only time you ever say that," he drawls, leaning out even further. "Where you stompin' to, baby?"

"Town over," she replies, raising her voice over the engine's rumble. "Tryna help out."

"Your ride didn't wanna take you?"

"No," Willow scoffs, sure he already knows the answer, "that ride's a damn asshole." She repeats what he said over in her head, the words undoubtedly coming from Javi himself, the ones she trusted him with—

Tyler shifts the truck into park, and a door swings open. Willow looks up as he rounds the front of the truck, coming over to her. His eyes sweep over her, taking her in as he gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. His gaze, soft but intent, checks her over, and it hits her—he's looking for signs she's okay.

The moment feels intimate, almost too intimate with his crew watching. She's not sure they know about whatever is happening between them: something that should have been fleeting, a moment of fun, but instead carries across space and time, something deeper, driven by fate to bring them together. But that care fades with him looking at her the way he does, like she's the only thing that matters in this world.

"Hey," he says softly, eyes scanning her face. "You been cryin'?" His voice is low, just for her.

"Just got scared." She shrugs, not wanting to rehash the meltdown now that it's behind her, now that Javi and Kate are safe. Tyler frowns, his eyes clouded with worry, but she offers a small nod of her head. "I'm okay."

He doesn't seem to believe her, rightfully so, and she sighs. "I'll tell you later," she finds herself saying to assure him and for once, she believes herself. "I promise."

Tyler nods, accepting her promise, and she knows he'll hold her to it. He brushes his hands against her cheeks one more time, running his hands along her hair before stopping at her shoulders. He doesn't even look away from her when he speaks next.

"Boone, let her in the back with ya," he orders and Boone is already hopping out of the truck to let her in.

Willow frowns, hesitating. "I don't wanna make y'all change direction,"

Tyler shrugs. "You're not. We were headed there anyways."

She can't help the small smile that creeps onto her lips, grateful he's doing the right thing. She lets Tyler guide her toward the truck and climbs into the back. She settles next to Ben, who greets her warmly, and Lilly, the name of the girl with the drone she learns, hollers with a wide grin when she sees Willow climb in.

"Sorry about y'all's chase," Willow says, not quite sure what else to say.

"How'd y'all know it'd be the left twin?" Lilly asks, glancing back at Willow.

"The winds shifted north," she replies, as if it's obvious. Tyler catches her eye in the rearview mirror, shaking his head slightly like he's unable to believe he missed that detail. "Gotta watch the wheat, cowboy: nature's natural wind vane."

"You're just full of surprises, weather girl," he responds, a smile spreading across his face.

"I bet you made that clipboard stick out of his britches while hanging out the window like that," Boone jokes, grinning wildly.

"It ain't nothing to worry about; we used to do stuff like that all the time," Willow replies casually, unwittingly revealing a glimpse of her past.

"You gon' let me see those pictures?" Boone asks. Willow pulls the camera out of its bag and lights up the gallery, stopping on the first real capture she got of the twins. She tilts the camera to show him. "Oh, ain't that something," he praises.

"Well, it ain't every day we see the Fujiwhara Effect right before our very eyes."

Ben frowns at the term. "And what does that mean?"

In the rearview mirror, she does not even notice when Tyler goes to explain when she starts on her own. "The twisters adopted the same rotation center when they crossed paths; think of them like wolves circling prey," she holds her camera over for Ben to take a look at the images, pointing out how the curve of each rope leads down around each other. "Miracle of nature."

Lilly whistles from the front seat, clearly impressed. "That ain't something they teach you being a weather girl."

"Is it required to know such terms for your role at your station?" Ben asks, raising an eyebrow. "Our weather reporters don't seem so well-versed as you are."

"I just have a special interest, is all," she replies, not entirely lying.

"'Cause she's a chaser," Boone interjects. Willow shoots him a pointed, playful stare, fully aware that she never confirmed or denied his earlier question. He shakes his head, a grin on his face. "You ain't gotta tell me now; I saw it with my own two eyes."

She lets out a short laugh, continuing to deny him any answer, and Boone takes it in stride with a casual shrug.

Tyler is the next to speak up. "Why weren't you with Kate?"

"Javi made me ride with Scott," Willow replies with a scoff. "Trust me, I'm not ever doing that again."

Tyler's brow furrows. "That asshole say something to you?"

Willow snorts, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "He definitely ruined his pitch." She rolls her eyes, the disdain clear in her voice. As if he ever had a chance in the first place.

"Hey, you quit that weather girl thing and you can get with us," Lilly says, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. Her gaze flickers over to their driver, aiming to coax a reaction from him. "Tyler would like that. Wouldn't ya, T?" There's a flush of red at the tips of his ears that makes her laugh.

"I ain't sure I got what it takes to be a Tornado Wrangler," Willow replies, trying to brush off the idea.

"Oh, girl, you got it." Lilly's words are confident, and infused with genuine belief.

As much as Willow wants to embrace that sentiment, the doubt still lurks in the corners of her mind. She lost her composure watching Kate and Javi in the thick of it, nearly screwing everything up out of fear this time.

But when Tyler catches her gaze in the rearview mirror again, that same glimmer in his eyes from the first night he ever asked her to chase, only stronger now—brimming with more faith in her, more trust in what she's truly capable of...

She nearly feels herself able to say yes.

◆ ◆ ◆

CLEARWATER, OKLAHOMA

CLEARWATER'S DAMAGE RENDERS THE TWISTER AT LEAST EF3. Willow wanders down the main road, doing her best to help those she encounters—searching for both monetary and emotional valuables while directing people to where they can find supplies. Dani and Dexter have set up halfway down Main Street with the caravan, passing out food and water to survivors, along with any other donations they've managed to gather.

Tyler trails behind her, lending a hand along the way, but his eyes never stray far from her. He watches intently, listens carefully, and steps in to assist whenever the debris she tries to lift proves too heavy.

"How am I ever," one of the women she stops for, Lois, pauses between heavy sobs, "ever supposed to come back from this?"

"You will," Willow promises, drawing from the strength of experience. She's seen it a thousand times over. Oklahoma rebuilds, they survive. And lord, all she's ever wanted was to make sure they never had to again, but here she is. "My great-aunt Meg lost everything in the 1996 outbreak. It hit Wakita in the middle of the night, no warning. The only thing that came out was her and our dog, Mose." Her voice remains steady, despite the watery eyes that come with the memory. "I remember her telling me that these storms always hit Oklahoma because there's no other state with people as hell-bent on coming back from them."

(She will always remember Aunt Meg fondly, missing her deeply but knowing she went when she was ready.

That woman lived a long life, hitting eighty before passing away peacefully, surrounded by family, and no one was more loved in the world than that woman with her infamous gravy.

Word still has it that Dustin is still trying to recreate the recipe, ever the lost without it.)

"I ain't sayin' it'll be easy," she finishes, holding Lois's hands tight in hers. "But you will come back from this. You will."

Lois hugs her tightly, and it almost feels like Aunt Meg is there, squeezing her just the same.

Tyler catches up to her at the next house, where she is stepping through debris, helping look for the family's lockbox with all of their important documents; a little grey thing. He's careful not to let her lift or climb on anything, but he listens to her direction, telling him where to exactly look.

"You're good at this," he tells her while he pushes away some more drywall.

"I talk to people all the time, being the weather girl and all," she replies with a shrug. "Makes it easier."

"No, it ain't that," he says, shaking his head before he tilts it up from his crouched position to meet her gaze. "It's 'cause you care. Ain't a lot of people left in this field like that." His words hang in the air, heavy with sincerity, making Willow's heart flutter.

She adverts her gaze, abashed. To her, it didn't feel like anything special to care; it felt like the only choice. "Everyone should. It's why we do what we do, right?" she replies, her tone more resolute than she feels.

"Yeah," he agrees, but his gaze lingers on her, an intensity behind his eyes that makes her throat tighten. 

Their search continues, leading them to a lockbox tucked safely under a bed covered in debris. Tyler is the one to return it to the family, earning a grateful kiss on the cheek from the matriarch, a big lipstick print that he wipes off with a laugh as he rejoins Willow.

Just three houses down, a little girl rushes up to Willow, her tiny hands tugging at the hem of her shirt. Wide eyes stare up at her, framed by a cut above her brow, filled with a mix of admiration and desperation. "You're on the news, aren't you?"

"I am," Willow replies, the only time her smile will ever soften at those words. "My name's Willow. What's yours?"

"Grace," the girl replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hi, Grace," Willow says warmly. "Is there anything you need help with?"

The girl bites her lip, glancing down nervously. "Sampson, he—"

"Sampson's our dog," a woman, who Willow assumes is her mother, comes up behind Grace, "he didn't make it into the shelter with us." Grace's shoulders slump in disappointment, and Willow's heart breaks with her sadness. "Look, y'all are doing enough for us, I can't ask you to find him too."

Willow shakes her head at her. "It ain't no problem, ma'am," she insists before crouching down to meet Grace at eye level. "I bet he knew he had to hide too and stayed safe; he's just waitin' for someone to come get him." It's a promise she knows she can keep, especially with the faint whining she heard as she approached the house.

Lifting the debris herself feels impossible: she knows she isn't strong enough to lift it alone, but she knows someone who is. Her eyes land on Tyler, next to her, watching this entire time. "I tell you what; you see my friend here?" She nods toward Tyler, and Grace turns to look. "He's the best at findin' stuff, and I'll make sure he finds Sampson. Ain't that right, Tyler?"

"It would be my honor," he replies, straightening up with a nod.

Willow smiles at Grace, feeling a swell of hope. "In the meantime, we need to have someone look at that head of yours." She waves down the medics who have started setting up shop at the edge of the street. The mother thanks her kindly before leading Grace away.

"I heard whining in that area," Willow points out with a smile in his direction. "Start searchin', cowboy."

"Yes, ma'am," he replies with a playful salute.

Out of the corner of her eye, Willow spots the white StormPAR trucks. She turns toward them, seeing the full crew. She didn't expect them out this way, not at all with how the mere request to help sent her into a throwdown with Scott.

"What the hell are they doing here?" She mutters to herself.

Tyler scoffs. "Ain't gonna give you a ride to help when it happens but still show up late? Vultures, I'll tell ya'."

The word makes Willow turn with a frown. "What do you mean vultures?"

"You don't even know who you're chasing for," he replies, his voice laced with a hint of frustration.

"Tyler, what aren't you telling me?" Her brow furrows. He knows more than he's letting on, something fueling his rivalry with StormPAR far deeper than their usual competitive edge.

But before he can respond, Javi catches her eye and starts making his way over.

"I'll tell you later," Tyler says, stepping back with a nod. "Go talk to your friend. I'll find Sampson."

As Tyler walks away, Javi jogs over, his focus on Willow while Kate helps a woman with her photo albums. The frown is still marring her face, utterly confused, but that doesn't phase Javi. "Hey." He doesn't check in on her, no other questions to ask except, "You ran off from Scott?"

Willow huffs in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah, he told me we couldn't come out here, was a real ass about it," she tells him, glaring at the man, apparently deciding it's worth it now to play good Samaritan with Marshall Rigss at his side. Her eyes narrow. A land developer working for a good cause doesn't seem plausible in these parts. "Look, if I'm chasing with you this week, don't ever put me with him again. I don't want nothin' to do with that guy."

"Damn, that bad?" Javi scratches the back of his neck, a frown creasing his brow. "Shit, that's not how I thought it would go."

Her gaze snaps from Riggs back to him. "What the hell do you mean?"

"I was..." He trails off awkwardly, seeming uncertain of his next words. "I thought y'all would be good together."

"Are you serious?" Willow seethes. How had she missed the signs? The little questions, the way Scott seemed to try to interact with her more than necessary—it all makes sense now. Javi must have pushed this idea on him too. "You thought, oh, let's bring Willow out to start chasing again and get her hitched at the same time? In what world have I ever liked a guy like that, Javi?"

Javi grows defensive, his brows knitting together. "The one where you started looking for something sensible instead of chasing after damn cowboys, Will." He gestures toward Tyler, who is still whistling for Sampson, clapping his hands together.

Sensible? Scott? She wants to scream at Javi. There ain't nothing sensible about a man who chases data more than he cares about what that data can do. At least Tyler uses his joyrides to do some good.

"Yeah, well, at least cowboys have more sense than to run their mouths about me and my family," she retorts sharply.

Javi's expression drops, shifting to sympathy rather than defense. "Scott said something about Bill and Jo?" Willow's silence is confirmation enough. "God, Will, I'm sorry. I was trying to convince him to be more open to you coming along."

"I don't..." Her eyes dart around, scanning for eavesdroppers. "You know I don't like using their names like that, Javi." The only time she ever did was for that legacy scholarship during undergrad at Muskogee and hell, the guilt still rots in her for doing that.

"I shouldn't have," he admits, remorsefully. "I shouldn't have tried to set you up either. I'm sorry."

Javi gives her a look, the kind that melts her resolve, and she lets her guard down. She never could stay mad at him for long, even back in the day when their arguments could escalate to the point where she'd storm out, slamming the barn door behind her. Now, she pulls him into a hug, squeezing him tightly.

"Glad you're okay," she murmurs, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

"Glad you are too," he replies as she steps back. "I've gotta get back to work, but I gave Kate the keys. Head out whenever you're ready—you should get some rest."

"Alright," she nods. "Be careful."

She watches him walk away, ready to turn back and find Tyler. As she glances toward the house, she spots him—but he's with Kate. Willow almost feels relieved to see them talking, getting along. But then Tyler's voice starts to rise, and her relief quickly fades. Her eyes widen, and she steps forward without a second thought.

"What the hell is going on now?" she asks, jumping into the fray.

"'Making a difference,'" Tyler scoffs, his voice laced with frustration as he gestures toward Kate, who stands firm with that stubborn glint in her eye. "How much more do these people have to lose before y'all are done 'making a difference'?"

She isn't even one hundred percent sure what his anger is about, but she has a feeling it has to do with StormPAR.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kate snaps, folding her arms. "Says the guy selling T-shirts and mugs after a storm hits."

"Kate, whoa—" Willow tries to interject, knowing Tyler's not about that life. But before she can get far, Ben approaches, notepad in hand.

"Tyler, you got a minute for some questions?" Ben asks, oblivious to the tension.

Tyler huffs in frustration, shaking his head. "Yeah, I got a dog to find," he says, brushing past Ben. "Talk to Kate. She seems to have all the answers."

Kate, visibly annoyed, storms off in the opposite direction. "Now's not a good time, Ben," she responds, more exasperated now than snappish.

Ben turns a questioning look toward Willow, who can only shrug, silently agreeing she's as baffled as he is. Her first instinct is to jog after Kate, catching up to her near the truck.

"What the hell just happened?" she demands.

Kate just shakes her head, clearly frustrated. "I'm going back. You coming?"

Willow sighs, knowing this choice means siding with Kate in the argument—but Kate always comes first.

Still, she's not about to leave without saying goodbye to Tyler.

"Let me say goodbye to Tyler," she says, and though Kate's clearly not thrilled, she nods, agreeing to wait. Willow heads in the opposite direction, where Tyler is still searching for the dog, his shoulders tense, frustration lingering from whatever just went down between him and Kate.

"I guess you're not going to tell me what that was all about, huh?" she asks as she approaches. He doesn't respond or even look her way, and Willow sighs softly. "I think I'm going to head back with Kate. I'd stay until we find Sampson, but..." She hesitates, glancing toward the truck; it feels more important right now to go with Kate, to keep her from stewing over this argument with Tyler. "Thanks for bringing me out here," she decides to say instead.

It makes the tension in Tyler's shoulders seem to ease a bit as he finally turns to face her. "Thank you for helping," he says sincerely, his gaze dropping. "I didn't mean to argue with her. It's just..." He hesitates. "You both deserve better than what you're chasing for, and you don't even know it."

"What...?" Willow pauses, wanting to ask more but unsure how to put it into words. Part of her just wants to know if he still plans on finding her later, like he'd hinted earlier at the picnic tables. She focuses on the latter. "I'll be at the motel in Stillwater, across from the rodeo, if you need me, cowboy," she says softly, leaving the offer open.

"Alright, weather girl," he replies, giving her a small, fleeting smile amid all the turmoil.

He earns one right back.

—AUTHOR'S NOTE

I don't know if there's any real evolution in tyler and willow's story anymore they're just obsessed with each other, so this fanfiction is really how tf does willow get back into chasing without crashing out

ALL OF MY HOMIES HATE SCOTT MILLER. he's a jerk, even if he helped willow once. i really wanted to include him as this 'potential love interest' to show that she needs someone who rounds her out, not just someone who likes storm chasing, not just someone who would do anything for her, but someone who pushes when needed, who follows what she believes in too.

also would yall want the playlist for this fic? I've built a particular one I listen to over and over as I write, especially ones that impact the titles used.

FEEDBACK APPRECIATED ON THIS MUCH LONGER CHAPTER: I really would love your thoughts on just how Willow is developing. Do you see her character growth? Do you see her working through shit or is unrealistic? Drag me pls.

i love you guys!!!!!!

thank you for reading,

kari