CONTENT WARNING: BRIEF EXPLICIT CONTENT/SMUT AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER (AND MORE TO COME). BEGINS AT THE LINE "IT TURNS GIVEN THE NATURE OF THEIR POSITION" IF YOU WANT TO SKIP.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN : THE ARCHER

SAPULPA, OKLAHOMA

IT HAPPENS AT A SUNDAY DINNER, TWO AND HALF YEARS AGO, MAYBE PUSHING THREE. Time starts to blur together, when Willow cannot keep track of it in memories when all her life had become were groundhog-day patterns of weather reports and therapy and misery over and over.

They try to keep the tradition alive, honoring Bill's memory, knowing he'd have wanted the DOROTHY crew to stay close. The team always gathers at the old Thornton ranch, families in tow, kids playing in the backyard while someone manned the grill, and everyone shared stories. Willow arrives from the city on Saturday nights, having moved out for the sake of a better commute. She and Jo spend the evening prepping for the next day, their conversation a strained attempt at normalcy—talk of storms but never chasing or reporting, topics too fraught to touch.

Dustin asks the question that starts it all, how she likes her work at the station. Willow confesses that she's earned a promotion and she'll take on the starring role. There is a round of congratulations, an attempt at support even though no one is exactly sure that's where she really wants to be until they reach Jo and she scoffs, loud.

It is downhill from there, a battle that starts in the yard, carrying into the kitchen, the word tyrant and disappointment being exchanged until Jo says the final line that sends her out the front door, never to return, never to see her again.

Of course, until now.

Willow stands frozen, her hand clutching the doorknob, knuckles white. The screen door is all that separates them now—a thin, flimsy barrier that feels far too small.

"Hey, Will," Jo greets her as if no time at all has passed. "You gonna let me in?"

Willow hesitates, swallowing back her emotions, but then steps aside without a word, holding the door open. Jo pulls at the screen and steps inside with familiar ease, her presence somehow both comforting and alien. She doesn't look much different, still the same old Jo, her hair a little bit shorter, a little more frown lines marring her face.

"What are you doing here?" Willow asks, her voice taut.

"To see you."

A voice calls from the kitchen, breaking the tension. "Baby?" Tyler's footsteps approach, and he stops short, taking in Jo with a furrowed brow.

Jo looks at Tyler, appraising him with a quick, sharp look. Then, with a raised brow and a barely hidden smirk, she glances back at Willow. "Boyfriend?"

Willow doesn't respond, her expression a careful mask, her thoughts a swirl of emotions too complex to voice. She can feel Tyler's curious gaze on her, waiting for some kind of explanation, but she holds back.

Tyler shifts, a slight edge to his tone. "Sorry, who are you?"

Jo extends a hand, unbothered, her voice confident and direct. "Her aunt. Dr. Jo Harding. Nice to meet you." Willow sees Tyler's eyes widen just slightly, a flash of recognition crossing his face. She can already guess what he's thinking—Dr. Jo Harding, the renowned storm chaser, practically a legend, and another secret of Willow's right when he thought he caught them all.

She bites down on her frustration. "You can't just go around—" she begins, but Jo cuts her off, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

"What?" Jo asks, casually. "You haven't told him about me?"

"I don't tell anyone about you," Willow snaps. For good reason, she wants to add, especially with all the shit that had been thrown her way the day before using the Harding name: the constant expectation, the pressure.

Jo sighs, the familiar nickname slipping out so naturally that it stings. "Now, that's a little harsh, bug." The endearment grates her, Willow's jaw clenching. "Can we talk?"

Willow folds her arm over her chest at the question, knowing there isn't much of an option not to. She got her stubbornness from somewhere, running more Thornton than Harding, and if Jo showed up unannounced after three years of radio silence to have it out, she's going to make sure they have it out.

Willow just her chin and gives her an impatient look as if silently inviting her to lay it out all out right there. Jo huffs at her, her gaze flickering towards Tyler, who's watching the two of them with narrowed eyes, studying their same head of blonde her, their similar grimaces. "You really want to do this in front of him?"

Willow won't send him away, not with him being her only ally in this room. Under Jo's unyielding stare, though, he folds. "I'll be close by," he murmurs, sending himself off where she cannot. He brushes her hair back with a lingering hand, an affectionate touch before he departs for the kitchen, his footsteps fading in the distance.

Willow watches him go, her heart clenched tight. A surge of frustration builds as she turns back, gaze falling on Jo, standing there as if the rift between them were just a passing argument as if everything hadn't shattered the last time they'd spoken. The last person Willow had expected to see on Cathy's porch was Jo, standing there like a ghost from another life.

Jo gestures toward the couches, her voice steady. "Maybe we should sit down for this."

"I ain't interested in sitting," Willow snaps, her arms wrapping around herself as if to form a barrier. She narrows her eyes. "How did you know I was here?"

Jo hesitates. "I talked to Cathy. She said you were staying here."

"She invited you—?"

"No." Jo cuts her off firmly. "Don't put it on her. I came out here on my own when she told me you were chasing again." Her gaze is steady, almost imploring. "You didn't think to call and tell me?" As if chasing could have been their olive branch, the thing that brings them back together.

Willow feels a flare of old anger. "I ain't spoken to you in three years, Jo. You think I'm gonna pick up a damn phone to tell you I'm chasing again?"

Jo's face tightens, but she doesn't look away. "I would like to hope so."

Willow's mouth twists into a bitter line. "You didn't call to tell me about the book." She remembers it from the conference, the one with the personal interviews for the woman herself, their lives rehashed on pages for sale without even a simple notice.

Jo's brows knit in surprise, a flicker of hope lighting her expression. "You read it?" There's a note of vulnerability in her voice, as if the thought of Willow holding that book, sharing a piece of her world again, might mean something.

Willow's arms tighten, her posture stiffening. "No," she says, the memory of that abandoned copy at the conference slicing through her, a reminder of every word that went unread. "I couldn't bring myself to."

There's a beat of silence between them, the unspoken regrets and resentment hanging heavily in the air. Jo seems to hesitate, as if grappling with her own guilt before she says, "Well, you told me you never wanted to speak to me again."

Willow scoffs, the sound harsh and hollow, pain tangled beneath her defiance. "Do you not remember what you said to me?" Her voice cracks a small, fragile sound that betrays the anger and sorrow she's tried so hard to bury. Her gaze is sharp, piercing through Jo. "I was just trying to stay alive after everything, and you called me—"

Jo doesn't let her finish. Her eyes blaze, and she steps closer, her frustration simmering over. "You call those weather reports being alive?" Her voice rises, laced with exasperation. "I watch every single one of them, and I know you, Willow. You fucking hate it."

Willow's fists clench, resentment bubbling to the surface. "Then tell me you told me so and leave," she snaps. "I get that the only time I'm valuable is when I am living up to your name, but trust me, I want nothing to do with it."

Without waiting for a response, she turns sharply and storms toward the door, feeling the need to put as much distance between them as possible. But Jo doesn't just let her go, following in her footsteps, heading out of the house behind her. "Is that what you think? That I only care about you for some bullshit legacy?"

Willow's throat tightens, a painful memory clawing its way up. She remembers that Sunday, the day Jo had hurled those words at her, words that cut deeper than Jo would ever know. "That's what you said, didn't you? That it had been such a waste of time to teach me all that if I was just going to end up some weather girl."

Jo shakes her head, stepping forward as if to bridge the distance between them."No, Will, you just had all this potential—"

"Fuck potential!" Willow exclaims, her voice trembling.

Jo matches her intensity, refusing to back down. "You've spent your entire life doing this work and you loved it!"

"Because you did!" Willow shouts back, and her words linger in the silence that follows. She tries to catch her breath, her voice dropping to a whisper as she fights the tears gathering in her eyes. "I idolized you. I fell in love with chasing because of you." She pauses, her voice breaking. "And then you turned around and you—" She chokes as she feels a tear slip down her cheek. "All we ever did together was chase or talk about chasing, or work on stuff for chasing; that's how you raised me and you called every moment of that a waste of fucking time."

"No," Jo says, shaking her head fiercely. "No, bug. That's never what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Willow whispers, barely holding herself together. "Because I have been alone these past three years, hating myself for everything, for being a failure from every direction." A sob shakes her, and she can't hold back anymore. "And all I wanted was my mom."

The word slips out in a rush, almost startling her, a confession she'd buried so deep she could barely recognize it. Jo freezes, her face crumbling as if the word had struck her, and she looks at Willow with an expression so soft, so wounded, it catches Willow's breath.

(Willow does not remember the before, the one without Bill and Jo.

Ghosts of it remain in pictures; a polaroid tucked away in a vanity mirror of two young girls, both mirroring her own blonde hair and green eyes, a framed print in the dining room of a blue prom dress and a date she isn't sure is her birth father or not.

Sometimes she would stare at it, trying to trigger something true and genuine, remember the woman who was supposed to be her mother.

But all she can think of is Jo.)

Jo steps closer, her hand reaching out instinctively to comfort her, but Willow flinches back, dropping herself onto the porch step and burying her face in her hands. She lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. Jo studies her quietly, letting the tension settle.

After a moment, Jo breaks the silence. "You've never called me that before," she says softly, her voice layered with a wistful hurt.

Willow keeps her gaze averted, embarrassed. "I shouldn't have. It's stupid—"

"No, it isn't." Jo's response is immediate, thick with emotion. She lets out a heavy sigh before sitting beside Willow on the front step, leaving a respectful inch between them. They sit in silence for a long moment before Jo finally speaks again.

"I almost said no when they brought you to us," Jo says barely above a whisper.

Willow glances up, scowling. "That is not helping your case right now, Jo."

"Just listen, Will." Jo's voice softens even further, and Willow sighs, reluctantly giving her a chance to explain. "They told me you were mine now, and I was terrified. I mean, I barely held our marriage together back then, and suddenly, they expected me to raise this little girl." She laughs quietly, more at herself than anything. "I could track a twister, sure—but I didn't know a thing about raising a kid."

Jo's lips quirk into a bittersweet smile, her gaze turning distant as memories flood back. "Bill—God, that man took to you like he'd been your dad all along. He loved you more than anything." Her voice catches, and she clears her throat, steadying herself. "But me? I was fumbling through it all. Remember when I sent you to school with two different shoes on?"

Willow lets out a watery laugh. "I walked like a pirate until Meg showed up with the right pair."

Jo chuckles, her expression softening. "I loved you so much, so fast, and I wanted to give you the world, but I was scared I'd keep failing you. Then you started getting interested in storms, and I thought, 'Here's something I can give her, something I know.'"

"When you walked away from chasing after everything..." she swallows hard, choked up. "It was like I was losing you, too. First Bill, then you—like all we'd built together was slipping through my fingers. The assistant job was one thing but the promotion..." She trails off, tears in her eyes. "It was like you were saying you were never coming back."

"I wasn't trying to leave you, Jo," Willow denies, shaking her head. "After everything we lost, you knew I just couldn't..."

"I know," Jo tells her, understanding. "I thought if you left chasing for good, I'd be left with nothing, and I didn't know how to handle that. I was scared you wouldn't need me anymore."

Willow reaches for Jo's hand, finally looking her in the eye. Jo startles at the touch, surprised at her reaching out, but settles into it all the same. "Jo," she says her name earnestly. "You were the one who got me through my first heartbreak," a boy named Jon, in high school, who dumped her over text on a flip phone, "who zipped up my prom dress," green, the color of their eyes, "and taught me to drive." Willow nudges her a little. "Hell, you stopped Bill from running off every boyfriend I brought home."

Jo lets out a watery laugh of her own. "You brought those cowboys home to drive him up the wall on purpose."

"Maybe one or two," Willow says, managing a small smile. "But the point is, I always needed you for more than just chasing. And that hasn't changed."

Jo's face softens, her regret clear as she murmurs, "I shouldn't have said those things, Will," her apology goes unsaid, but clear enough that Willow accepts it. "And I don't want you to ever think..." She trails off before meeting her gaze, making sure she hears her. "Raising you, chasing with you—those have been the best parts of my life. I love you, bug."

Willow's voice catches and she throws her arms around Jo, squeezing her tight. "I love you, too."

Jo rocks her back and forth slightly, relishing in her touch as she says, "And if you go back to the station, if that's where you're happy, I promise I'll have your back this time."

"Oh, no," Willow says, shaking her head as she pulls back slightly. "I probably won't be going back to the station." Jo frowns in confusion. "I, uh, kind of went viral for socking a guy in the face. PR's probably having a field day with that one." She shrugs, unable to know for certain, with her phone dead and her charger lost somewhere in the motel wreckage, and not even thinking to borrow Cathy's.

Jo raises an eyebrow, amused. "So, you're chasing again?"

"I'm trying to." Willow is at least certain of that. She shrugs. "It's what I love, you know?"

Jo nods knowingly. "Bill tried to stay away, too. Went on to be a reporter, almost married his therapist, and then came right back." Willow smiles, knowing the story well, though Bill always framed it as his love for Jo that brought him back—not just the storms. Jo brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile tinged with sadness. "I know he's so proud of you, getting back into it, doing what you love."

Willow's eyes fill with unshed tears. "I miss him. So much."

Jo's voice drops to a whisper. "Yeah, me too."

For a long moment, neither of them speaks, the gentle breeze swirling around them. They sit side by side, the weight of loss still between them, but the quiet warmth of being together fills the space. Neither of them needs to say more; just having the other back is enough.

◆ ◆ ◆

THE LIVING ROOM IS NEAR SET UP FOR AN INTERVENTION WHEN THEY COME BACK INSIDE. Tyler stands from the armchair as they enter, his face tinged with worry. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees Willow more settled, though her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are streaked with the remnants of tears. Even Kate is there, having left her room at the sound of their earlier shouting.

Cathy is the one to fear, though, standing in the center of it all, her hair still a little damp. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at Jo.

"Jo Ann Harding," she says sternly. "I told you not to come out here and get that girl in a tizzy."

"Well, if I didn't do it now, it would've never gotten done," Jo replies with a grin, crossing the room to pull Cathy into a hug. "Thanks for the heads-up."

As Jo busies herself chatting with Cathy, Tyler heads toward Willow, saying nothing as he cups her jaw gently, his gaze soft and searching. Willow nods, managing a small smile.

Then Jo turns to Kate, giving her a warm squeeze. "Bring it in, Kate," she says. When she pulls back, Jo glances around. "You got Javi hiding upstairs or something, or did you kick him out for your beefcake over there?"

Willow rolls her eyes at the latter comment, choosing to ignore the subject of Javi. "His name's Tyler," she supplies.

Tyler steps forward, ever the gentleman, reaching out his hand with a charming grin. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am," he greets Jo as she shakes it. "I'm a real big fan of your work."

"Really?" Jo raises an eyebrow, surprised. "You're a chaser? She usually goes for cowboys."

"Oh, that's the kicker," Cathy says with a grin. "He's a cowboy too. Had him wrangling my cattle all morning."

"Huh," Jo muses. Her eyes flicker back to Willow with a knowing smirk. "She tell you she's got a thing for boys from the rodeo?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tyler replies with a playful glint in his eye. "I actually used to compete."

Jo laughs, nudging Willow again. "You make him in a lab or something?"

"Jo," Willow groans, blushing, "oh my lord, stop."

"If that's what you're getting embarrassed about, you're in for a world of hurt, bug," Jo teases, plopping herself down on the couch with a grin.

"Oh, let her have it," Kate jumps in, looking only a little more at ease than the last time Willow saw her. "She let Mom tell him the tub story."

They spend hours reminiscing, sinking into the couches with beers in hand. Jo leads the fray, recounting stories that make Willow flush deep red and Tyler laugh, his gaze flicking to her with a warm, teasing glint. Kate insists Jo tell the story about Willow's first chase, where she spent the entire time hogging the radio, rambling on about updrafts and gust fronts to anyone who'd listen. Tyler grins the entire time, nudging her playfully and muttering about how he's pretty sure she hasn't changed a bit.

After a while, Jo catches Willow's eye, sending her a quiet, approving look as if to say, this one's a keeper. Willow feels her smile deepen as she leans closer to Tyler's touch.

Kate offers to clear the empty bottles and fetch another round. As she heads for the kitchen, Willow stands to help, eager to check in with her friend, who still throws Tyler occasional glances—each laced with a faint, unreadable tension that hasn't eased all evening.

"Hey," Willow greets her, leaning against the counter as Kate digs through the fridge. "You alright?"

Kate nods, her fingers tracing the bottleneck of one of the beers. "Yeah, just thinking." Her eyes drift back toward the living room, where Jo laughs loudly at one of Tyler's tales about the Wranglers with her comparing them to the DOROTHY crew.

Willow sighs, frowning slightly. "Look, he didn't mean to upset you, he was just excited—"

"It's not that," Kate interrupts gently. "He actually apologized, said he'd put it all aside."

"Then what is it?"

Kate hesitates, glancing down before muttering, "I'll tell you later."

It hits nine and Cathy is out of her armchair, claiming it's her bedtime. She orders Jo to stay the night in the same breath, insisting she can't drive home in the dark. Jo sighs, but agrees, joking that she'll tolerate the couch since the "lovebirds" have already staked their claim in the guest room. Willow shoots a look Tyler's way, her cheeks warm as Jo smirks.

Willow showers and changes into her bedclothes in the bathroom, slipping into the worn University of Arkansas shirt Tyler let her borrow, along with a pair of pajama shorts. When she comes back, she finds him tugging out the pull-out bed, his back turned as he works. He's still in his undershirt and has swapped his jeans for a pair of sweats, looking more relaxed, if not quite ready for bed. She sighs, hands on her hips.

"You don't have to sleep on that thing," she tells him softly, a smile tugging at her lips.

Tyler glances over his shoulder, his eyes lingering as he takes her in. "Cathy doesn't seem too old-fashioned, but I'm guessing she wouldn't love us sharing a bed under her roof."

Willow scoffs, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I've done a hell of a lot worse under her roof." She rounds him, settling herself down on the bed with a playful grin. Tyler moves to the foot of the bed, leaning against the iron frame as he watches her with an amused look. She crawls up towards him, her palms flat against the quilt, eyes hooded. "Get in the bed with me, cowboy."

Tyler lets out a soft, dreamy sigh before leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss, his answer clear enough. He moves around and stretches out beside her, resting his back against the headboard. Willow climbs onto his lap, straddling his thigh, settling in close rather than beside him.

"Alright," he murmurs, his hands coming to rest on her hips as he looks up, grinning. "Any more surprises before bed, weather girl? Gotta know before I'm tempted again."

"Nope," she replies, shaking her head with a teasing smile. "Last one, I swear."

He gives her a skeptical look, still grinning. "Had a feeling about Jo anyway. Gotta say, though—you're not the best at hiding secrets." He drops his voice, teasing, "'Aunt and uncle, researchers out of Muskogee,'" he quotes with a playful smirk. "Messin' with a DOROTHY sensor in the barn. Her showing up just gave me the final piece to the puzzle."

Willow rolls her eyes, leaning in close, a playful smile on her lips. "Fine, you got me, cowboy. Real proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"Just a little," he replies, his gaze soft as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear, fingers lingering near her cheek. "Though I might have to head back tomorrow. Boone's probably stewing over me coming out here without him."

Her smile dims just a little. "You'll wait for me to be up before you go, right?"

He presses a light kiss under her jaw, his voice low. "I ain't running from you, baby," he assures her. "I still need to make sure I get your number this time before I leave anyway."

She smirks, toying with the hem of his shirt, her fingers brushing against his side. "First thing you should've asked me for was my number, you know. That's how these things are supposed to go."

"Forgive me," he murmurs with a grin, "guess I was a little distracted." He gives her a look full of warmth. "But I'll make sure to get it this time."

A pause settles between them, a comfortable silence as they look at each other. Then Willow says, "I heard you apologized to Kate."

He nods, his thumb absently brushing over her hip. "Had to. Pushed her too hard when I shouldn't have. She deserved better than that."

Willow's eyes soften as she watches him, her fingers tracing gentle circles on his chest. "You're a good guy, Tyler."

He chuckles, pulling her closer, his forehead resting gently against hers. "I try to be."

The warmth between them feels easy and unhurried, a glimpse into the kind of life she could have with him. She pictures them in a place like this, a farmhouse with open land, a couple of horses to ride out on together. They'd sit on the porch at sunset, beers in hand, his crew nearby swapping stories. Maybe he'd come home to her after each chase, windswept and tired, but still smiling, sweeping her into a kiss—or they'd be on those chases together, settling back in after a long season spent facing storms.

Willow kisses him again, softly at first, pouring everything she feels into the touch. Tyler's hand slides up her thigh, pulling her in until they're chest to chest, his warmth surrounding her. She curves against him, savoring his touch and the way it grounds her. Three days of only him—of learning each other's skin, sharing their lives in ways that mattered most—could never have been enough, she realizes, not with the way she spent weeks craving him after. She curses herself for ever running, for letting her self-doubt come between them instead of simply trusting him, and giving herself over completely.

It turns given the nature of their position. She feels him press up against her, raising his hips until he meets her core, hard. His hands are pushing up from her thighs to her ass, one sticking there as the other travels further up under her, his, shirt. Willow grinds down into him, rolling her hips as she opens her mouth against his. He groans into her and she does it again, pressing down harder, the thin fabric weak barriers between her cunt and his cock.

Tyler pulls himself back and Willow whines, desperate, knowing exactly what she is missing out on. She's been in this position before and a few others, begging, whimpering under his touch, making him whimper under hers just the same. He pets her hair, panting heavily against her lips. "Sleeping in the same bed is one thing, but I ain't too keen on fucking you under her roof either," he tells her as if it pains him to even say it. "Still tryna make a good impression."

"What a gentleman," she teases, leaning back in, this time missing his lips and heading for his jaw. "You are keen on fucking me, though, right?"

Tyler groans again. "You ain't gotta say it like that baby."

"That ain't a yes," she sings out.

Tyler purposefully shifts, dragging his clothed, hard, length down her barely covered slit. "That ain't a yes?" She grins, pressing a kiss closer to his ear this time. "I ain't gonna be able to quit if you don't."

"We ain't gotta," she says against his skin. "Barn has a couch in the loft."

"For fucking?"

"For naping, really," she clarifies with a soft laugh, "but it can be multi-functional."

Tyler chuckles, a sultry tone drawing in his voice. "That where you normally take your cowboys?"

"No, I ain't ever been with anybody in there," she admits, honest. They were never gentlemanly enough to worry about disrespecting the owner of the house. "But I wanna be with you."

Tyler lets out a soft sigh, pretending to ponder her offer like he has any other choice as if he's not completely desperate for her. There's a beat, and then, without warning, his arms slide under her thighs, lifting her from the bed. Willow lets out a surprised squeak when he stands, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist to keep herself steady. He swats at her ass for the noise.

"Be quiet so I can sneak us out there," he scolds softly, his grin betraying any seriousness. "I'm not getting caught for something that was your idea." He lets out a little huff, adding with a smirk, "Gonna ruin my good reputation."

Well, as long as he ruins her, she'll make sure they get out there without a peep.

—AUTHOR'S NOTE

this chapter's a whirlwind between the drama of the first half and the taste of smut at the end. i hope it doesn't seem like they jump back in bed together too fast; it isn't like its new to them, so my thinking process is that willow is just all in and she KNOWS that boy is good in bed.

smut incoming at the start of the next chapter. will be putting a warning, but just know these two are all in for each other now, there ain't no going back. domesticated and happy

FEEDBACK APPRECIATED: always worried about the progression of willow and tyler and as they make this big jump into a sex life again (which everyone does at a different pace), I get even more worried. Also, the Jo and Willow argument? I put my heart and soul into that so PLEASE let me know what you think.

see you real soon besties; I love all yours comments and appreciate every single one of them. it brings me great joy.

thanks for reading,

kari