CHAPTER FOURTEEN : PINK SKIES

SAPULPA, OKLAHOMA

WILLOW HAD SPENT ENOUGH TIME LIVING OUT OF THAT GUEST ROOM TO KNOW IT BY HEART, DOWN TO THE CREAK IN THE FLOORBOARDS. Between chases, they always shacked up at Cathy's, with bellies full of brisket and full access to their makeshift lab, pilling up in the guest room with Jeb and Kate taking her room. She and Addy would take the bed, Javi on the pull-out, and Praveen with him until Javi started kicking in his sleep and sent him to the floor. Before them, it was always hers, unless she and Kate stuck it out in the barn too long, passing out on the loft couch after a few beers.

(It became her second home in undergrad, as she trailed after Kate, spending breaks with her cooking something up in their barn together. Her clothes have always been in the closet, tucked in drawers, and a stock of her shampoo in the bathroom.

She'd spent Christmases and Thanksgivings in that living room, rotating with the Hardings so that she and Kate never had to be apart. For seven years, their families merged, a tradition fractured only after tragedy struck, leaving an ache she felt every holiday.

These days, she spent them on the soundstage at the station, where coworkers praised her dedication, never knowing the truth: no one was left to celebrate with her.)

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she sits up, trying to shake off last night's haze. She remembers strong arms lifting her, carrying her up the stairs, but now, she's alone.

Across the room, the pull-out couch looks ruffled, the blankets half-folded and thrown back in a way that reminds her of Javi's hurried tidying. Tyler's duffle sits on top of it, and for a moment, her heart stops, thinking he might have just left it there, grabbed his things, and taken off before dawn. After seeing her all torn open, with every fear and failure laid bare, maybe he realized she was more than he bargained for. He'd promised she wasn't alone in this, but maybe, after sleeping on it, he'd seen what she already knew—she couldn't be fixed, no matter how hard she tried.

But then, there it is, his cowboy hat hanging off the bedpost, a signature left behind. Willow lets out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. That hat has been with him for as long as she's known him—a part of him he'd never forget. She picks it up, her fingers brushing over the worn brim as she steps toward the window.

The guest room overlooks Cathy's spread of land, where chickens peck around the coop and horses graze in the distance. Down by the cattle pen, she spots Tyler, his hat turned backward as he talks to Cathy. He's animated, hands gesturing, and Cathy seems to hang on to his every word, not minding his chatter one bit.

As if he feels her gaze, he glances up, catching the movement of the curtains. When his eyes meet hers, a bright smile lights up his face, and without thinking, Willow raises her hand in a small wave.

She wonders if he intentionally gave her the space to go after what she came all this way for: Kate. As she pulls back with the intention to get ready to head her direction, she cannot help but feel grateful for him,

Pulling open the closet, she finds clothes she hadn't laid eyes on in years—flannels, worn tank tops, and faded jeans from her days chasing with her crew. She sighs, running her fingers over the yellow checks of a flannel, memorabilia of the days she longed for. She pulls out a pair of jean shorts and slips them on with her boots, tossing the flannel over her shoulders.

It's strange, seeing herself like this—a version she thought she'd left behind. But as she looks in the mirror, dressed in old clothes that still fit like they're part of her, it feels all too settling. A rebirth, the first storm tearing it all away from her, this new one forcing her into the last steps of this rediscovery.

When she heads downstairs, she finds Kate in the kitchen, already dressed in her well-worn chasing clothes. It's like they're both right back where they left off. Without a word, Willow crosses the room and wraps Kate in a hug. Kate doesn't hesitate, folding into her embrace, her head buried in Willow's shoulder.

"Mom said y'all drove in last night," Kate mumbles, her voice muffled against Willow.

"I was worried." Willow pulls back a little, looking her over with concern. "You alright?"

"Been worse," Kate sighs, her gaze falling to Willow's taped-up hand. Her eyes widen. "Wait, you didn't punch him, did you?"

Willow shrugs with a small, guilty smile. "I punched Scott."

Kate's mouth drops open in shock, but it quickly turns into a smirk. "Did anyone get it on video?"

"It's gone viral, actually," Willow replies, trying to keep a straight face.

Kate lets out a delighted laugh, pleased at the thought.

After a moment, Kate's smile fades, replaced by something more somber. "I thought about going into the barn," she says softly, hesitating. Willow looks at her, surprised, knowing exactly what the barn means to both of them. "Will you go with me?"

"Yeah," Willow replies, of course. "I'll go with you."

The walk to the barn is shaky at best, taking slow steps towards its entrance. They pause at the barn door, standing side by side as if bracing themselves against the memories that might just knock them off their feet. Kate reaches for Willow's hand, and Willow squeezes it, grounding them both.

Inside, everything is as they left it. Plastic tarps cover the equipment, preserving the last traces of the lives they'd left behind, from the days when each storm was a thrill rather than a threat. Willow tugs the tarp off the work desk, where she and Kate spent hours, their faces lit up with excitement. She looks up at the barrels of polymers in the loft, their bright yellow color a reminder of the dreams they once shared.

Kate reaches for a photo on the little board above the desk—the crew huddled together in front of the van, all grins as Jeb's camera clicked on a timer. In the picture, Willow's hanging off Javi's back, his face caught in a laugh. The sight stings, a reminder of what they'd lost and what she would give anything to get back.

"Tyler knows, by the way," Willow murmurs, her voice low. "Dexter put it together. Remembered our names from the paper."

Kate's lips purse at the thought of their story out in the open, but eventually, she gives a small nod of acceptance. "Remember when Jeb used to say he'd find you a storm-chasing cowboy?" she asks after a beat, her thumb tracing over Jeb's face in the picture. A sad smile pulls at her lips as she glances over.

"Think he'd approve?"

"Yeah," Kate decides with tears welling in her eyes.

Willow shares her smile and tears. "Took him some time, but he got him to me," She takes a steadying breath, glancing over at Kate.

They've never really talked about it—their shared tragedy, the destruction that tore them apart. In the flickering images of their past selves, the wound torn open again the night before, Willow almost asks: Do you blame me? Do you blame yourself?

(There is one final question that passes through her, sounding of the man who drove her an hour to make sure she could be with her other half, who tucked her in and promised her she would never do anything alone again.

Is there truly anyone to even blame?

The questions hang in the air, silent but heavy.)

Kate seems distant, though. Even stepping into the barn had been a hurdle, the place where she left Willow alone five years ago, saying the memories were too much. Willow doesn't want to push her, doesn't want to risk her teetering back toward that edge.

"When are you going back?" she asks instead, knowing the answer is coming.

Kate sighs, sinking onto the workbench by the desk. "End of the week," she replies. "Figured I'd spend some time with Mom first."

"Mind if I stick around with you?" Willow asks, settling down beside her. She tries to sound casual, but there's a quiet plea beneath her words—a fear that if Kate leaves, everything they've mended might unravel again. The silence, the distance, would feel like losing part of herself all over again.

Kate raises a brow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "You and the cowboy a package deal on that?"

Willow laughs softly. "I can send him back to the Wranglers if it'll help."

Kate shakes her head. "I don't think he'd be too happy if you did."

Willow's laughter fades, and she looks down. "I just..." she trails off, suddenly much too busy to look at Kate when she is occupied wringing her hands. "I just want to spend time with you before you're gone again," she admits quietly.

She hears Kate sigh and reaches over to squeeze her fingers. Willow looks up, meeting her soft gaze. "I'll start calling," she promises. "And visiting. I think I can stand being here if I've got you with me."

Willow smiles, a glimmer of hope lighting her eyes. It is not having her with her, but it truly is better than missing her for the rest of her life. "I'll take that." She hesitates, the question she's been avoiding thick on her tongue. "Then this is it? No more chasing?" Their trial run with Javi is over, a decision made in record time that maybe this isn't the life they're meant to come back to.

Kate's eyes flicker with something heavy, unreadable. "You don't have to stop chasing, you know." She says nothing about herself.

Willow's voice drops to a whisper. "I don't know." She knows now that she can do it, but there's still a hesitation—a wariness that feels deeper than ever. She takes a breath, struggling to put it into words. "Maybe there's just too much in the way for us to ask for that kind of chance again."

Kate disagrees, "Willow, I saw you yesterday. You belong in it."

"You know I don't like doing it without you, though."

"Well," Kate says gently, "you've got a guy out there who wouldn't say no to being your new partner."

And she knows Tyler would agree in a heartbeat, already the one to suggest it, but it isn't truly an issue of partnership. Will shakes her head again, holding her gaze. "Yeah, but he'll never be you." She moves closer, her words laced with emotion. "I'm never going to meet another person in this world I'll love like I love you. You're my soulmate; we are supposed to do this together."

Kate's breath hitches, a tear slipping down her cheek, and she reaches out, pulling Willow into a hug that says more than words ever could.

"I love you," she says back to her, choked up on her words. "I don't want you to ever think I don't."

Willow knows her heart, has always known because they are two sides of the same coin, the only two people in the world who could ever truly understand the other, their scars a mirror, flesh and sanity born and torn in the same way.

"You girls alright?" Cathy's voice drifts into the quiet of the barn before they can continue the discussion anymore, putting it to bed without even realizing it.

Kate pulls back, wiping subtly at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Yeah," she says, her voice steadying. "It's just like we left it."

Cathy's gaze sweeps over their makeshift lab. "I've been wondering what you want me to do with all this stuff," she says, gesturing toward the remnants of their setup around them.

Willow takes a breath. "I'll pick through it eventually," she decides. "The rest... you can just throw away."

Cathy raises an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eye. "You done? Hm?" She shakes her head with a soft, bitter laugh. "It's funny, I keep seeing more and more tornadoes and floods and droughts and price of wheat and seed going up and up and up." She pauses, giving them both a pointed look. "But I'm still here.

Kate's eyes drop, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "I'm sorry, Mom. I haven't been good about calling."

Cathy's phone dings, and for a moment, a fleeting expression crosses her face, something hidden beneath. Her eyes flicker up to Willow quickly then right back down to her phone, drawing a connection between them Willow isn't sure she understands. "I've got to take this," she murmurs, already moving toward the door. She pauses, glancing back with an exasperated expression. She scoffs. "Throw it away.' I'm still waiting for you two to save the world."

◆ ◆ ◆

WILLOW AND KATE SPEND A GOOD CHUNK OF THE DAY REMINICING IN THE BARN. It's easier that way; even if they can't undo the tragedy, they can still remember the "before" with some fondness. There's laughter, tears, and a little bit of bickering when it comes down to keeping the story straight, but it puts them both at ease. All the while, Willow busies herself with the remnants of an old DOROTHY sensor, trying to piece together enough scraps to make one again, while Kate tinkers with her old science project.

Tyler walks in a little after noon, his eyes immediately drawn to their makeshift lab in the corner. He studies it, intrigued, taking in each detail with questions clearly churning in his mind. His attention shifts to Kate as the hum from her project intensifies—the artificial wind spinning in its center, nudging the miniature wooden houses around.

Tyler lets out a low whistle. "Build your own tornado. Now that's something."

"Middle school science fair project," Kate says with a smirk.

"Well, you must have won," he calls correctly before wandering over to Willow at the workbench. He stands behind her, getting his arms around her to cage her in, his chin resting on top of her head. "And what do we have here, weather girl?" he asks, glancing at Willow.

She shrugs, a small smile on her face. "Just an old trinket," she mutters, leaning back against him. Tilting her chin up, she meets his gaze with a soft look. "Thanks," she says quietly, "for driving and sticking around."

"Cathy kept me good company," he replies casually like it's no big deal. Willow smiles at his ease with her mom, using her first name as if he's known her forever.

Kate chimes in, "You did all our usual morning chores. Appreciate that."

Cathy enters just then, her voice warm. "I'm fixin' up some lunch. You alright to eat outside?" No one rejects her offer before she casts a glance at Kate. "Set the table, hon." Then, looking at Willow, she adds, "Go give her a hand. That boy of yours has done enough around here."

Willow laughs, standing out of Tyler's arms and moving at her orders. "Yes, ma'am."

At lunch, Tyler paints himself as a true entertainer, a better conversationalist than Willow could ever hope herself to be. He's spent all morning with Cathy, helping her out with chores, but still manages to lead the conversation with her at the table. He plucks at a sausage with one hand, tossing it in his mouth, while he leans back to stretch his around Willow's chair. "That only gets you so far, and every chaser has to make a guess, and the good ones have an instinct for it."

"Oh, she had that early on," Cathy tells him, referring to Kate. Always knew when weather was coming, even better than the cows."

"Better than the cows," Willow mouths toward Kate with a light chuckle. The girl shares one with her.

"Got to have a feel for it."

Tyler engages with her, keeping up with the conversation. "She always had a feel for it, huh?

"Oh, yeah," Cathy confirms before leaning in. "One time, I was giving her a bath..."

Willow grins, already knowing the story by heart—it's been a rite of passage, shared with every new member of their crew.

(Jeb and Javi both double over in laughter at the story with Kate flushing red the entire her mom rehashes it over the campfire.

It takes Addy four days to let it go, but Praveen is the one to pull a targeted comment every once in a while to make the crew laugh and Kate gets all flustered.

Lord, does she miss them now more than ever.)

Kate's cheeks flush pink. "Can we not?"

"Come on, it's tradition," Willow teases, tugging on Kate's sleeve with a mischievous smile.

Cathy continues in spite of her daughter, "And we heard thunder, and she shot up out of the tub and ran out the house naked as the day she was born..."

"Oh, my God."

"And I had no idea where she was," Cathy chuckles, cutting herself off briefly with her own laughter. "I was terrified. And when I finally caught up with her, she was standing in the middle of the wheat field, staring at the sky."

Tyler grins, giving Kate a playful look. "I got to try that out."

Kate rolls her eyes, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "Will you stop encouraging her?"

"Keep your clothes on, Kate. Let your mom finish." Willow barks out a laugh at his words.

"All I'm saying is, she always loved weather. Worse the weather, the happier the girl."Cathy goes on with a shrug, smiling warmly at her daughter before her gaze turns elsewhere. "And then Willow comes along and teaches her that she can chase it." She gives Willow a teasingly pointed look. "I spent weeks wondering who the hell this guy 'Will' was taking my baby into the middle of tornadoes, and then one weekend, Kate's got this girl on my porch who starts talking my ear off about storms." She shakes her head with a fond sigh. "Couldn't get rid of her after that."

Willow scoffs playfully. "You love me."

"I do," Cathy responds, reaching over to pinch Willow's cheek. She bats her hand away affectionately. When Cathy leans back again, she chides the girl, "Eat more, Will. Need your strength if you're running back into tornados again."

Willow tries to protest. "I don't—"

Cathy interrupts with a knowing scoff. "You've spent your whole life waiting for something historic like this. Don't pretend you'd pass up chasing an outbreak," she says, matter-of-factly. Willow's eyes flick to Kate, who had told her she assured her mom earlier they weren't chasing again. "Besides, your boy here ratted you out."

"Tyler!" Willow slaps his shoulder. "Snitch!"

"I didn't know it was snitching," he protests. "I was just telling her how we met and the chasing thing may have come up."

Willow rolls her eyes at him and stabs her fork into another piece of sausage.

"Alright, what about you?" Cathy decides to ask next, eyeing the man at the table. "Tyler, how'd you come to do this work?

Tyler leans back with a shrug. "Well, when you love something, you'll spend your whole life trying to understand it." His gaze rests on Willow as he says it, a look not lost on anyone at the table. Willow looks at him, fighting the smile that tries to make its way onto her face.

Cathy smiles fondly between them before pointing in their direction. "They were studying for their PhD together. I keep telling them both to go back." Cathy gives both girls a pointed look with the last word, a demand on her part. She shifts back to Tyler with a proud smile. "They were heading up a big study with their friends: disrupting tornado dynamics."

At the mention of the project, Willow freezes, her fork clinking against her plate. It's a reminder of everything they'd packed away, the project they once staked their futures on, their plan to change the game. She hadn't been prepared to revisit it, especially not with Tyler, not when she and Kate had essentially decided to leave that part of their lives behind that very morning. But Cathy has dragged it back out, on purpose, piquing Tyler's interest.

Kate stands abruptly, taking her plate with her, clearly uncomfortable. "Uh, does anybody need anything?" she asks, already looking for a way out.

"Nah, I'm..." Tyler frowns as she already starts to walk off. "I'm good, thank you." Silence settles over the table for a moment, Cathy sighing at her daughter's sudden departure and Tyler, working up the guts to ask the question. He glances over at Willow. "Disrupting tornado dynamics?"

"It's..." Willow hesitates, her gaze shifting away. "It's just an old project. Not worth talking about," she deflects, pushing back from the table as well. "Need help with the dishes, Cathy?"

Cathy waves her off with a shake of her head. "We can get them later," she tells her, not giving her a way out like Kate. The woman stands from the table, brushing off her pants. "I'm gonna' go check on her," she tells her with a nod back towards the house. "Why don't you go show him your old gear? If you're so set on tossing it out, maybe he can put it to good use."

Left with no choice, Willow nods, casting another quick look over her shoulder before leading Tyler toward the barn. She opens the door and steps inside, the familiar scent of dust and old metal filling the air, that world she missed surrounding her again.

Tyler steps in, immediately drawn to the makeshift lab cluttered with old Dopplers, barometers, and various versions of the DOROTHY sensors. He picks up a sensor from a pile, turning it over in his hands with genuine curiosity. "You built most of this?"

"Kind of," Willow says, reaching over to take the sensor from him, her fingers absentmindedly tracing its edges. "Some of it's old equipment, just patched up to keep up with newer tech. I inherited a lot from my aunt and uncle."

"They live close to here?" he asks.

"Not too far," she replies, her voice quiet. "It's just my aunt now, though. Haven't seen her in a while."

Tyler looks at her with a soft sympathy. "I'm sorry, Willow."

She offers a small nod, her fingers brushing over the worn sensor, missing Bill as she always does. "He built most of this stuff, taught me how to work it, then passed it down to me."

He doesn't mention them again but rather moves on to other parts of the room. He studies the pictures on the corkboard, the ones of her friends, of her, thrown in various poses, on chases, in bars. Tyler runs his thumb along the edge of one of her and Addy, swamped in rain ponchos, both awkwardly grinning at the camera, soaked head to toe.

Then, he stops at the work desk, tilting his head to the side at the contents stacked on top.

"What's this?" he asks, holding up a purple notebook with a raised brow. "Cloud physics?"

Willow's breath catches; of course, he'd zero in on the one thing she hoped he'd miss. "I don't think that's—" she says, reaching out to grab it, but he pulls it away with a smirk. She huffs, lunging again as he steps back, playfully keeping the notebook just out of reach. "Tyler."

He flips through it slowly, his expression shifting from playful to impressed. "You thought you could disrupt a tornado."

"No, it was just some dumb pipe dream," she insists.

Tyler looks at her with a grin of disbelief. "It was a damn good pipe dream. Willow, you two theorized something amazing: the OG Wranglers."

"What is he looking at?" Kate's voice cuts in, panicked, startling Willow. She hadn't even realized she had made her way into the barn too. Kate rushes forward, reaching for the notebook. "Tyler, no, give that to me."

But Tyler's too absorbed in what he's reading. "'Using superabsorbent polymers to reduce moisture in the updraft, trying to collapse it like a house of cards,'" he quotes a line Willow wrote herself one night, putting the effort into their idea from their graduation celebration. Tyler nods along. "I mean, you'd have to drop a silo of it in a funnel for any real effect."

Willow shifts, feeling herself tense as she defends their old work. "Well, yeah, that's why we were trying to use different reagents to enhance it."

Tyler's eyes light up with interest, urging her to continue, but she doesn't give in. She hesitates, shaking her head. "It's a dumb idea," she mutters—a project they poured their hearts into, only for it to end in tragedy.

Tyler studies the equations with a furrowed brow. "Some of your reactants are off. A few of these solubility rules are skewed..." He looks at Kate, who's visibly uncomfortable. "What? You really think I'm an idiot, don't you?"

"No, I don't think you're an..."

"Hey, modeling's advanced a lot. I can upload this to my laptop, link it to a supercomputer," he offers excitedly like it's a new adventure for them to explore together. He's practically glowing with the same wonder he always has when he discovers something new about Willow, oblivious to the weight the project holds. "I'm telling you, we could get a new model running."

"Tyler," Willow says softly, trying to temper his enthusiasm. "Please, can you stop?"

He pauses, looking at her, confused. "How did you not tell me about this before?" He holds up the notebook, asking.

But it's Kate who snaps this time, all the fight drained from Willow after the previous night. "Because I got it wrong!" she shouts, the rawness in her voice silencing the room. "In the field, in the moment, when it mattered, I got it wrong, okay? I underestimated what we were up against, and I pushed it too far." The confession hangs heavy in the air, echoing Willow's own guilt. For all the blame Willow carries in hopes it would keep it off of her other half, it seems to have done nothing to absolve her.

Willow's lips purse and she hugs herself tight, listening to Kate break down with tears welling in her eyes. She has seen it so little; her Kate, this cool and collected woman who can laugh and smile but stays strict to the game when she needs to be. Tyler has pushed her over the edge without realizing it, just as Dexter had accidentally done to Willow the night before.

Kate scoffs bitterly, swallowing down a sob. "And for what? Some childish dream that we could make a difference? It was never gonna work. And I h—" She chokes, fighting back tears. "I have to live with that forever."

"You know, uh, EF1 or EF5 tornado rating..." he starts gently, the notebook outstretched in his hand, like a boone. "It's not based on size or wind speed. The power we ascribe to it, it's based on damage. Now, it's only after the fact we can really define it. What it destroys, what it takes from us."

"I'm sorry for what happened," he says to her, sighing. "But how much more are you gonna let this thing take from you?"

Kate drops her gaze, swallowing against the ache in her throat. "I... I should go," she says, wiping at her tears with the heel of her hand. "Let you and Will have some time alone."

Willow reaches out to stop her, gently grabbing her arm. "Kate, don't," she says softly, her voice cracking. But Kate pulls away, turns on her heel, and leaves the barn, leaving Tyler and Willow standing in the quiet aftermath of everything unsaid.

With a sigh, Willow sinks onto the workbench, her shoulders sagging, defeated. She leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, face buried in her hands. No matter how hard she tries to keep her feelings stitched up, the seams keep tearing open.

Tyler breaks the silence, choosing his words carefully. "This experiment..."

"Kate just gave you the boot on that Tyler," she cuts him off, her voice dry from her own tears. "You ain't gonna convince me without her."

"You wouldn't even try again?" he asks, a thread of hope still holding him.

Willow lets out a heavy sigh. "You're asking me to walk back into something I'm not sure I can handle," she says, her voice thick. "I don't even know if I'm ready to chase again."

He scoffs, stepping closer, hands on his hips. "What?" His voice rises, disbelief etched in every word. "After everything? You're just gonna throw in the towel?"

She meets his gaze, defiant but pained. "I'm trying, Tyler," she answers. "I'm trying to figure it out, but I don't know if I can do it again."

He lets out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You can't just—you belong out there, Willow."

She narrows her eyes, bracing herself. "Because Kate told you it's in my blood?"

"No," he snaps back, firm. "It's because it's what you love. The way you care about all this- storms, the science, the people. It ain't hard to see: there's nowhere you belong more than chasing a storm, trying to make a difference." Tyler pauses, dropping his voice lower again."It's who you are."

Willow stands, shaking her head in disagreement. "No, Tyler. I used to be that way. I'm not her anymore—I can't be her." She finally proved it, the old part of herself inaccessible, unreachable, even with the flickers of life that bubbled up in her.

"I don't care who you used to be," he says sharply, enough that her eyes snap back to him."Whoever the hell she was doesn't matter to me because the woman right in front of me? She has it." He gestures toward her. "I've seen it since we met at that conference, I've seen it since I found you again," Tyler continues. "You are a damn good chaser and you have proven it to everyone, over and over."

"Until I fuck it up again," she whispers, broken. "It was our experiment; we came up with the idea together and we were so desperate to make it work that..."

"None of that was your fault," Tyler tries to convince her again in that same gentle tone as the night before. "You're allowed to move on from that. You don't have to keep carrying it."

"I'm trying," she says, her voice wavering. "I've been in therapy for years trying to talk myself out of it, trying to live again, to stop punishing myself. It just..." She swallows hard, struggling with the words. "It doesn't always work."

"Willow," he murmurs, reaching for her. "You don't need to punish yourself, and you don't need to go back to whoever you think you were. You're enough. Right now. Right here." She can almost believe him, the way he says it.

He inches closer, gently cupping her jaw and tilting her chin until her eyes meet his. "It's your decision in the end. No one else's. Whatever you decide, I'll still be right here, chasing you."

Willow holds his gaze, still uncertain, but there's a hint of wonder beneath the pain. "But you want me to chase with you." That's how she's always pictured it: the two of them storm-chasing together, racing toward the sky, just like he wanted.

"Only because I want to share what you love with you," he admits, his thumb brushing her cheek. "But you're not gonna run me off by deciding to stick out the storm at home. I'm not going anywhere, Willow. Whether you're chasing storms or just finding your own peace—either way, I'll be here."

She stills, her heart hammering in her chest, the entire reason she ran in the first place unraveling as he stands there, quietly denying every doubt she's ever had. She looks up at him, lips parted in disbelief, unable to believe this man—this cowboy—could be not only everything she's ever wanted.

But everything she's ever needed.

(Thank you, Jeb.)

Willow pushes her up the tips of her toes and grabs the collar of his flannel, pulling him to meet her halfway. She presses her lips to his, a jolt of lightning sparking between them, that instant, electric connection—cosmic, undeniable. Tyler freezes, stunned, but only for a moment. No, he is quick to wrap himself up in her, hands moving from her jaw to her hair, pulling her closer. He still kisses like a man starved, only this time, he truly is, put through the punishment of not having her. He drinks her in like he's making up for every lost second, savoring every taste. Willow melts into him, her hands slipping around the nape of his neck as she presses closer, not wanting to break away.

When they part, it is an echo of their first kiss, his breath ghosting against her lips as he goes to rest his forehead against hers. This time he is breathless, smiling, ever so slightly, looking down at her with a look that's softer, deeper, than before. It's more intimate now, softened by time and distance.

"You ain't gotta chase me anymore," she tells him, quiet, barely above a breath.

"Baby," he responds, running his thumb along her bottom lip, admiring. "I ain't ever going to be able to stop chasing you."

Willow just smiles and kisses him again.

◆ ◆ ◆

KATE REFUSES TO LEAVE HER ROOM WHEN THEY MAKE IT BACK TO THE HOUSE. Willow tries coaxing her out, knocking on the door, but all she's met with is silence and the firm, unyielding lock, her quiet way of declaring she needs space.

Left with little else to do, Willow heads to the kitchen, deciding to busy herself with the dishes despite Cathy's gentle protests that she doesn't need to. If she can't be there for Kate, maybe she can at least be useful somewhere. Tyler sidles up beside her, effortlessly inserting himself into the domestic rhythm, sticking close to her side since they left the barn. Despite having done chores most of the day, he seems perfectly happy to be here, taking on the drying to her washing, chatting with her as they work.

"I've come up with a solution," he says thoughtfully when he places a place down in the drying rack.

Willow glances over at him with a raised brow, passing another dish over. "Oh, really? What for?"

"I ain't tryna sway your decision," Tyler clarifies first. "But, you had your trial run end four days early when you were promised a full seven." He isn't wrong, she had hoped she would have all week to work and figure it out. "So, what if you ran some with us? No cameras, no pressure. Just us and the storm."

She pauses, taking in his offer. Chasing with the Wranglers like Lily proposed, like Boone hopes for. "I'd like to finish out the week with Kate first," she says first, not saying no.

"Then after?" he presses, hopeful. "We'll be out here the whole season."

Willow grins, softening. "I'll think about it."

"You mean it?" He nudges her, smirking. "Cause last time you told me that, you left me alone and naked."

She laughs, playfully nudging him back. "You know I ain't gonna do that now," she assures him, almost tempted to press her soapy, gloved hand to his cheek. "Not when you've seen my crazy and stuck around."

"I don't know..." Tyler muses, grin widening, "every time I think I've got you figured out, you keep surprising me."

"Eight-week course," she sings back at him, smirking.

"I'll get registered first thing tomorrow," he replies, a playful glint in his eye.

Suddenly, a quiet knock echoes from the front door. Willow frowns, puzzled. She turns from the sink, looking back at the door, wondering who it could be. It isn't typical out in the country for unwarranted visitors so late in the day, the sun setting outside, and Cathy didn't give her any notice she'd have a visitor before claiming she was going to soak in the bath.

It couldn't be the Wranglers—Tyler had messaged them earlier, telling them to chase on without him, promising to head back when he could. The only other option she can think of is Javi, coming out this far to grovel after Kate or get his truck back.

Or worse, Scott, coming back for round two.

Willow peels off her dish gloves, tossing them over the side of the sink. She grabs the dish towel Tyler holds out and quickly dries her hands as another knock sounds, more insistent this time.

"You want me to get it?" Tyler asks, his brow furrowed.

Willow shakes her head. "I got it. But stay close, just in case."

She rounds the corner from the kitchen into the foyer, heading toward the door. Through the frosted glass, she can make out a figure—a woman with her back turned, arms crossed, glancing at the trucks in the driveway. One of them, a red Ford, looks worn but unmistakably familiar like it's been rebuilt and restored over the years.

The woman shifts, tapping her foot against the porch impatiently. Willow wraps her fingers around the handle, her stomach twisting with an odd, unplaceable feeling. She tries to brush it off, telling herself she has no reason to be uneasy, especially with Tyler nearby. Taking a breath, she twists the knob and pulls open the door. The woman spins around at the sound.

And suddenly, it feels like meeting a stranger and someone deeply familiar all at once—a shared blonde head of hair and a stubbornness that could go head-to-head with the meanest bull. Willow's breath catches in her throat as recognition floods over her.

"Jo?"

—AUTHOR'S NOTE

TITLE FROM THE ZACH BRYAN SONG.

i almost made this fic a tyler x willow x kate fic and honestly as I'm writing kate and willow scenes, that thought is influencing me more and more. they're sapphic loves for sure.

TYLER WILLOW KISS THAT LITERALLY MIMICS THEIR FIRST KISS I HOPE YOU NOTICED THAT.

SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER!!! DID YOU SEE IT COMING?? I had to bring Jo in somewhere, force this week to be willow's very bad but also very good week of revelations and reunitations. you'll get the full story of their falling out in the next chapter, tyler realizing that her aunt and uncle are indeed the hardings, and then, maybe some more.

FEEDBACK ALWAYS APPRECIATED. please let me know if you see any odd repeats or editing issues. i think i got them all again, but i was editing so sporadically as i wrote and this ended up being a longer chapter.

i hope you liked this chapter and are excited to see mrs jo harding make a reappearance!

thanks for reading, 

kari