Hesitantly, she followed him through the garage, past the reception area which still had the same old red metal nickel candy machines with the silver crank. One filled with M&Ms, the other with what appeared to be Mike & Ikes or something of that sort. She nodded at the soda machine. "Someone convinced old Kenny to put soda in here? When did hell freeze over?"

Jackson looked back, hesitated, then kept moving. "When he died."

"Oh."

"Sorry," he said, looking back at her again. "You didn't know?"

"No. No, I didn't." Had she really been so out of touch that she didn't know her childhood best friend had lost her Pappy?

"There's no windows in here so we should be safe," he motioned ahead as they entered the back office and Jackson leaned up against the counter that housed a microwave and a coffee machine, one arm crossed over his chest. A small desk sat in the corner, ancient klunky computer monitor on top, with two chairs on the opposite side. Simple and efficient. He pulled out his cell phone and began fiddling with it. "Weather service says 85 mph winds," he said, scrolling a bit more then pocketing it again.

She snorted. "You think this old place will hold up to that?"

"I don't see why not. It's held up to everything else it's seen for 63 years. It's not likely to quit now." He smiled reassuringly.

She nodded and leaned against the door frame awkwardly.

He removed the shirt from his head and looked at it, then replaced it as the blood continued to leak, albeit slower, from his wound. The gray t-shirt that clung to his biceps and hugged him in all the right places now had a smattering of red on it along with the black grease stains.

"Do you have a first aid kit around here anywhere?" she asked, looking around.

He twisted at the waist and opened a cabinet behind him, pulling out a white container with a red cross on it.

She walked over and opened it up, pulling out some gloves, antiseptic wipes, some butterfly stitches and a large bandage. She snapped on a glove and pulled up a chair, patting it. "Have a seat tough guy," she said with a smirk and he plopped himself down.

"Why do I get the feeling you're the scary nurse?" he joked, smirking back.

The wind howled through the building and they both stilled for a moment as it died down again.

She ripped open an antiseptic wipe. "I'm not any kind of nurse. You have to finish school to have that title."

"Finish school? Does that mean you started?" he asked, not even flinching as she leaned over, gently cleaning the cut.

She cringed inwardly, cursing herself for letting that slip. "Ya," she said simply, dabbing at the last remnants of blood. "Back before I had Jillian."

"Well why did you stop?"

She inhaled deeply and held it, pursing her lips. "It was a mistake," she said and tossed the antiseptic wipe into the metal trash can next to the desk. Thunder rumbled outside.

He watched her as she ripped open the packet of butterfly stitches and removed one, carefully pressing it to his forehead. "So what did you do instead?"

Married a murderer. Had his kid. Played happily ever after. Embarrassed heat rose up her neck and her jaw set angrily. She ripped another of the stitches off the backing and raised her hand to his forehead again.

She felt Jackson's eyes raise to watch her, brows knit with curiosity. "You don't like to talk about yourself much do you?"

"I screwed up," she bit out, grabbing a bandage and peeling off the backing. "There's nothing much to talk about." She took a step closer to position the bandage, vaguely aware that she was standing between strong legs, cursing herself for choosing the now-exposed extremely low cut tank top to wear under her flannel that morning. 

She finished her work quickly then straightened and peeled the gloves off, tossing them into the trash can. Those eyes of his were piercing a hole straight through her. She couldn't help but glance down at them.

"Everybody makes mistakes, River."

She looked back to the bandage quickly, suddenly aware of how close he was. "Jackson," she warned without effort. His hand ran up her back smoothly, the other drawing her down, even closer, until she was hovering inches from his face. Tired of trying to deny that she wanted this just as much as he did, she made up the distance, pressing her lips to his lightly, smoothing a hand over his cheek. She pulled away slightly and their eyes locked, his full of an intense blue heat she wasn't used to. His fingers firmly kneaded the small of her back and their mouths met again, moving against each other slowly, lingering, leaving them both breathless in the end.

His hands moved around to slide down her sides, resting on her waist, then falling away as she straightened. She stepped back, touching her fingers to her lips and swallowing hard as she turned away from him.

He cleared his throat. "So what's the verdict, am I gonna live?"

"I told you, I'm not a nurse," she scoffed sarcastically, closing her eyes, not wanting to tell him the worst part wasn't that she had left school and walked out on the plan she had made for herself since she was a kid. It was that she had walked out on it for a man. For what she thought was love.

Rough fingers wrapped around her hand lightly. The warm touch made her stomach do flip flops in anticipation of what might come next and she pulled away.

Jackson remained seated, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "What are you so afraid of?"

She jumped and stepped back towards the desk as a loud splintering crash sounded from the front of the building and the thunder and rain suddenly became amplified.

Jumping up instinctively, Jackson rushed towards the open break room door, but she lurched forward and grabbed his arm with both hands.

"No!" she yelled just as the door slammed shut in front of them and the sudden drop in pressure made her ears feel like they might burst. Hail slammed against the metal roof above them and they heard the crumbling thuds of what could only be the cinder block walls coming down on the other side of the door.

He pulled her to the corner of the room underneath a workbench just as the door flew open and slammed shut again. The unmistakable howling of a twister filled the air. Jackson tucked himself around her holding her so tight she wasn't sure if that was why she couldn't breathe or if the air had been sucked out of the room by the storm. 

Wind rushed against them and she screamed as they lurched forward, stopping abruptly thanks to Jackson's arm looped around the leg of the workbench which was bolted to the wall. "Hang on!" he yelled above the roar of the wind and she wrapped her arms tightly around it as well, feeling him adjust his stance to continue shielding her.

Particles of dust? Sand? Dirt? lashed her skin and when rain pelted down on them she looked up just in time to see the roof disappear completely, revealing the massive dark cloud as it finished it's pass and moved on.

It's over now. She said to herself over and over in her head, but she couldn't rip her eyes away from it; had to keep watching it, just to make sure it wasn't coming back.

Slowly, she heard Jackson's voice, at first like she was underwater, but then louder, and finally when fear registered in the tone, she snapped out of it. Still wrapped in his embrace, her knees throbbed from being rubbed into the rough cement floor. His bloodied shirt came into focus, and she looked up at him, his face searching hers frantically.

"Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly, pulling away from her and looking her over, then taking her face in his hands, smoothing her wet hair back away from her eyes.

"Ya," she nodded, squinting as sunlight streamed into the room, just like nothing had happened. "Are you?" she asked worriedly, noticing little flecks of red all along his arms and neck, likely from whatever it was flying on the wind.

He nodded and backed out from under the bench, pulling her out with him. They stood and looked around. He kept a vice grip on one of her hands, and she found herself grateful for it.

The desk and chairs were gone as was the storage room that used to be on the back of the building. So was half of the wall that held the cabinets; the garage on the other side was clearly visible now.

"Holy shit," Jackson said softly, and turned towards the door, which was still closed. He let go of her hand and tried to open it, but it didn't budge.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go this way," she said, tipping her head towards the open space at the back of the building where the storage room used to be.

He climbed up over the pile of broken cinder block that remained and reached back to help her, strong hands gripping her waist tightly as she climbed out and over.

Outside, the tall stalks of wheat in the fields across the road lay matted down in all different directions, displaying eerily the path that the twister had taken. Broken glass crunched under their shoes as they rounded to the front of the building. The seating area in the waiting room, complete with candy and soda machine, was virtually unscathed, but now outside, as the front wall was completely gone. A familiar squeaking floated on the breeze and she turned around to see the signpost still standing, tall and proud.