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━ CHAPTER ONE  ━
❝ COFFEE & COWBOYS ❞

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━ TEN YEARS LATER  ━

JESS WOKE LONG BEFORE the sun touched the horizon. She laid in a bed that wasn't hers and stared at a dark ceiling, willing sleep to come back, but every time she felt herself starting to doze back off, she would jolt awake. She was falling, slipping off the edge of the bed or from a tall height, only then, she wasn't. She was still in bed, snug beneath the comforter that her mom had picked out. White, with raised blue decals that Jess ran her hands over each time she rolled over. It was comforting in a sense, but all Jess felt was an overwhelming sadness for a woman who would never touch these sheets again. It was hard not to imagine her mother laying in bed next to her, talking about the things they'd done and the pictures they'd taken that day, just like they used to do when she was a kid. Instead the space beside was empty and cold.

Jess turned over and reached for her phone, where it was charging on the nightstand. The time read 6:03 AM. She huffed and flung the phone back down on the table, grabbing the comforter in bunches and pulled it up to her face. When it became clear that she was going to get no more rest that morning, she threw the covers off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her left leg, while still as tan and freckled at the rest of her body, was indented with old scars, and on that morning, was uncomfortably stiff. Jess reached for a cane propped up against the nightstand and used it to pull herself up, slowly and carefully. The handle of the cane fit smoothly into her hand, familiar and worn from years of use. She limped towards the door and headed downstairs to start the day.

Jess was twenty-eight and she looked like her dad. She had the same light brown hair, which fell just past her shoulders, and dimples on either side of her cheeks when she smiled, all a mirror image of her father. She wasn't as tall as him, standing at an unassuming five-foot-seven, but she carried herself with the quiet confidence she had had always admired in him. The only real difference was her eyes, which were dark brown in comparison to his steely blue. It was the one thing that made Jess look like her mom. Though, she swore that they would never hold the same kind of warmth and kindness as her mother's had.

Her parents, Beverly and Jonathan Ward, had inherited this two story farmhouse, her childhood home, nearly twenty years ago. They'd moved in when Jess was eight, having relocated from a small condominium on the opposite side of the state. Her dad had grown up in this area before he'd moved for work, and the house had belonged to his parents. It was handed down to him and now that both of her parents were gone, it had been handed down to Jess. She tried to think of it as a blessing, but that was just a load of B.S.

Downstairs, several cardboard boxes laid strewn across the living room space, labeled by the different parts of the house. All of them were empty. Jess loved her mother, but she was a hoarder, plain and simple. Thankfully, not the kind that piled garbage ceiling high and kept 48 cats locked away in the same room, but she was the kind of woman to buy useless nicknacks and trinkets from thrift stores in the name of "decor". Jess's father had been a stern man back in the day, but he was a pushover, in every sense of the word, and could never say no to any of his wife's impractical purchases. They were good and bad for each in that way: an enabler and a persuader.

The farmhouse had an old 90s theme that, oddly enough, kind of worked for the space, but it was an absolute nightmare to go through. Each piece reminded her of a specific story or point in time, so every time Jess went to pick something up and put it in the "Keep" or "Donate" pile, it instead went right back on the shelf. She couldn't even bring herself to touch her father's books. Jess missed her parents too much to get rid of the things that made them happy.

Instead of venturing into the cardboard jungle that was the living room, the brunette continued into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. Much like the rest of the house, it had been redecorated to her mother's standards, looking like it had been transported straight from the late 90s. Sturdy oak cabinets lined the walls and the countertops were covered in speckled laminate, a testament to durability over style. A white ceramic sink sat beneath a square window adorned with frilly curtains in a floral pattern that matched the wallpaper border running along the top of the walls. The linoleum floor, patterned with faux tiles, creaked slightly underfoot. Many people would consider it cluttered, but Jess considered it home.

After she had set up the coffee and left it to brew, she wandered over to the row of cabinets on the other side of the kitchen, which housed a landline phone. There was a red light blinking on the base, signifying that Jess had received a voicemail message. She didn't get many calls that weren't through her personal cell, so she already had a good idea of who would be calling. She picked up the handset and pressed the button, listening to the crackle of static before the message began to play.

"...what the f—is this thing even fucking on? Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, piece of shit technology. Whatever...Hey, kiddo, it's Uncle Mitch, just calling to check in. Haven't heard from you in a few days, wanted to see how you were doin'. What else did I want to...oh, yeah. Vic down the road had seen them goddamn real estate people driving around again, so just keep an eye out. I think that's it. Yeah. Alright, just give me a call back when you can. Love ya, kid. Bye."

Then quieter, like he had pulled the receiver away from his mouth.

"Now how do I...? Oh."

Jess chuckled quietly before hanging up the phone. Her Uncle Mitch was her mom's older brother and the only living relative she had in the state of Arkansas. She had a few distant relatives on her dad's side who lived in Oklahoma, but not anyone she knew very well, so Uncle Mitch had become her closest family. He was also in charge of many of the financial decisions about the house until Jess was ready to take over. He lived a few towns over, but regularly stopped over to check in the house and Jess whenever he had time between shifts as a construction worker. She hadn't seen him in about a week, so she thought it was sweet of him to call.

There weren't any more messages left on the machine, so Jess wandered back over to check on her coffee. It wasn't quite ready, much to her disappointment, so she tried to busy herself with other things around the kitchen while she waited. She wiped the counters down, ran the dishwasher, even browsed through one of the home improvement magazines that had been left stacked near the kitchen sink. Eventually, she found herself back in the living room, taking another tour of the bookshelves she was meant to be packing up. They housed her mother's decorations, but also all of the books that her father had collected over the years as his work as a professor, before he'd passed. She ran her fingers along the spines, feeling the familiar textures of weathered leather and smooth paper. Jess leaned her cane against the shelf and plucked a book off the shelf, finding a place to sit in the old armchair against the wall. As she flipped through one on cloud formations, a slip of paper fluttered to the floor. Curious, Jess picked it up. It was a handwritten note, dated several years back, detailing a particularly unusual weather phenomenon her father had observed. The note sparked memories of evenings spent listening to him enthusiastically recount his fieldwork. Jess reached up and ran a finger over the cool metal of a heart-shaped locket that dangled from her neck, once a favored birthday gift and now the last thing she had of her parents. With a pang of sadness, she tucked the note into her pocket and left the book to rest on the armrest of the chair.

The sound of tires crunching gravel came from outside and Jess realized that someone had pulled up in the drive. The living room curtains blocked the view of the yard, so she wasn't able to see who it was. Friends of her parents and other well-wishers had been knocking on the farmhouse door all week and Jess wasn't sure how much more casserole or lasagna she could take before both the fridge and her stomach starting busting at the seems. Yet, she was more than happy to further stall sorting through her mother's stuff, so she abandoned the book, grabbed her cane, and hoisted herself to her feet. Her knees trembled as she took a few shaky steps, before finally finding a rhythm to carry herself to the door.

Jess peeked through the little windows framing the door and caught sight of a red pickup parked out front. It was jacked up and had a ton of expensive-looking gear in the bed, uncommon for the area. Most people drove their Chevys until they rusted and ran their Rams into the ground. Her eyes were drawn to a strange ornament on the grill, which looked a Texas Longhorn, but the head of the bull was an odd shape that she couldn't make out from the window. As far as Jess knew, both of her parents had many friends, but none, that she could remember, drove a vehicle like that. The lights turned off and a man started to get out of the driver's seat, his face obscured by a wide-rimmed Stetson. Younger, by the look of his build, and Jess was suddenly nervous that it was one of those real estate agents that her Uncle Mitch had told her about; the ones from town with the handsome faces and disarming smiles that could sell your house right from under your nose and you'd be none the wiser. Many farms in the area had been bought up to make new complexes and from what she had been told, the companies had been circling like vultures during the past couple of years. It filled her with a hot, bubbling anger in the pit of her stomach, but all she could do was swallow back the rage and open the door.

"Good mornin," She called out at the gentlemen started up the front path, face still angled down towards the dirt. When he gave no response, Jess frowned. "I don't mean to be rude, but if you're looking to sell anything, you better head on down the road. I'm not interested."

"Wow," the man said, sounding offended. He had a voice smooth and sweet like molasses, words falling from his lips with practiced ease. If he thought he could smooth-talk, he was at the wrong house. Jess stood up straighter and puffed out her chest, ready for a rebuttal, but something in his tone made her deflate. "That's not much of a way to speak to a guest. Or an old friend."

The man tipped his head up and Jess's heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

"Tyler?"

Tyler Owens smiled at her, bad news with perfect teeth and green eyes. He was six foot, tanned, and still stupidly good-looking. He wore a dark button down, jeans, and donned a pair of dusty, worn-down Tecovas on his feet—probably the same pair he'd worn the last time she'd seen him, almost five years ago. He removed his hat, tousled, sun-bleached hair falling over his forehead, his eyes never leaving hers. Jess felt weak in the knees for a different reason now.

"Hey there, cowgirl."

Jess was flooded with mixed emotions. Surprise. Relief. Joy. Sadness. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel in that moment. Was she supposed to curse him? Cry? Slam the door in his pretty Southern face? She thought she might be short-circuiting, yet, she eased into a smile, leaning against the frame of the door with her arms folded over her chest.

"Tyler Owens. I thought I smelled trouble," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'm surprised you don't come with a warning by now."

Tyler put a hand over his heart. "Jessica Ward, you wound me," he replied. He gave her that irresistibly charming smirk that made her stomach twist the same way it had years ago. "So, are you gonna come give me a hug or what?"

Jess rolled her eyes, but she smiled wide as she pushed herself off the door frame. She used her cane to hobble down the steps of the porch and couldn't help but catch the way Tyler's expression faltered, as if he had forgotten something important about her. It was fleeting, but she already understood. Jess often forgot on the good days, that she had a disability. That was, until, she was fixed with one of those stares. Pitying, concerned, curious, or just plain disgusted; she'd seen them all. Jess had gotten good at reading people and could tell, just from a simple look, what they were thinking. Tyler was difficult to place. He didn't often wear his emotions on his sleeve, unlike her. Whatever the look was, it passed in an instant as Jess cleared the last step. Tyler met her farther up on the path and once she was within reach, he crushed her into a tight hug: the kind that made it next to impossible to breathe. She laughed, breathlessly, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Tyler's breath was warm against her cheek as she fit her head under his chin and once she dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, Jess could feel the thrum of his heartbeat beneath his skin. And God, did he smell good. He always had, but in addition to that earthy, outdoorsy scent she always associated him with, there was also the additional warmth of men's cologne. It mingled with the natural scent of his skin, creating a heady mix that made Jess momentarily forget what she was doing. Tyler's grip tightened slightly, if at all possible, solid and steady. They stood like that for a moment, until finally, reluctantly, Jess pulled back, her heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with her trip down the stairs.

"Alright, alright, let me go before you suffocate me," Jess teased. Tyler's grip loosened, but his hands lingered at her waist. She pretended not to notice. "Let me get a look at you."

The last time they'd seen each other, they'd been twenty-three and fresh out of college. A little and a lot had changed since then. Jess couldn't help but notice that while he was still Tyler, he wasn't exactly her Tyler anymore. That was to say, the Tyler she grew up with. He still had the same dirty blonde hair and his eyes still crinkled in the corners whenever he laughed or smiled, but his face was fuller, tanner, carrying a hint of maturity that hadn't been there before. His shoulders seemed broader, his stance more confident. Jess found herself studying the lines etched around his eyes, the subtle stubble on his jawline, and the way he now stood a little taller, as if the world had given him reasons to grow (or perhaps it was just the heels on his boots). Most of all, Jess noticed how tired he looked. And not the got-only-a-few-hours-of-sleep kind of tired, more like he hadn't slept in years. Like his soul was tired. She understood that feeling because she had been living in it since she was eighteen. And maybe he had, too.

"Looks like you went and grew up on me," Jess said. "And what a shame too, you used to be quite a looker."

"Ouch. I forgot how mean you are, Ward." he laughed, and for a moment, it was like no time had passed. They were still kids, standing in the front yard, talking about what they would get up to that day. A melancholy feeling washed over Jess, but she swallowed it back with a smile.

"Just means I like you," She said, shrugging.

"Well, thank goodness for that."

Jess's smile softened and she looked him over again, pensive. She let a hand rest on his arm. "Really though, you look good. It's good to see you."

Tyler surprised her by reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek, before he dropped his hand back to his side. "You too."

Jess had to clear her throat awkwardly to save herself from the heat creeping up the back of her neck, no doubt turning her ears and cheeks an embarrassing shade of red. She patted Tyler's arm before untangling herself from his hold, reaching down for her cane, which was now laying in the dirt. She dusted it off and looked back up at him.

"Why don't you come inside? I'll make you some coffee and we can catch up."

Tyler nodded. "I'd like that."

Jess smiled, before turning to lead the way back up the path to the house. With one hand on the railing and the other on her hand, she scaled the steps with minor difficulty and held the door open. Tyler went inside first and she heard made a soft noise of surprise.

"Look at this place," He said, looking around the foyer, amazed. He hung his hat up on the coat rack and kicked off his boots, before walking further into the house. "It's like a time capsule in here."

Jess followed him inside and closed the door, nodding as she passed him to go to the kitchen. "Mama never did like to change things around. She wanted things to stay just the way they were."

She was glad that he stayed in the hall because he didn't have to see the emotion that threatened to choke her up, the same way it had earlier that morning. She busied herself with pouring him a cup of coffee from the pot she'd left brewing. Out of instinct, she found herself making it with two sugars with just a splash of creamer; the same way he'd liked it in college. She stared down at the mug before hesitantly picking it up and bringing it back into the hall with her own.

She found Tyler studying the picture frames hanging on the wall outside of the living room, his arms folded over his chest. Most of them were her through the years: a three year old Jess with pigtails and another at thirteen after she'd gotten her braces on for the first time, mixed in with family photos from different vacations and events over the years. In comparison to her mother's shelves full of bric-a-brac, Jess cherished these a lot more.

"What're you going to do with it all?" He asked as she returned.

"I don't know," Jess admitted. She handed Tyler the mug and stood beside him, surveying the photos on the wall. "Keep the important stuff, donate the rest, I guess. I haven't gotten around to much."

Tyler nodded and took a sip of coffee. He looked down at it and Jess could see him smile out of the corner of his eye. She didn't say anything, instead reaching for the group of photos resting on a side table in front of them. She picked up a small frame and examined it. It was one of the first photos developed on her camera, of the pair of them at the beach during their senior year of high school. Spring break in Florida, if she remembered correctly.

"I remember that trip," Tyler said. Jess handed him the frame and he glanced it over fondly. "I got burnt so bad, I couldn't walk."

Jess smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I remember. I don't think I've seen anyone that red before," she said. "I think I still have a t-shirt of yours from that trip. Never got around to giving it back."

Tyler put the picture back down on the table. "Ah, well, you'll probably get more use out of it than me."

She hummed some sort of acknowledgment and folded her arms over her chest, taking once last glance at the photo wall before she wandered back into the kitchen. Tyler followed and when Jess sat down at the kitchen table, he sat opposite to her, facing the large windows that overlooked the fields behind the house. To one side of the property was a big, red pole barn and on the other side was acres and acres of pasture. Or, it had been. In the distance, was large strip of acreage that was blocked off with fences and signs that read "SOLD" in large red letters. Tyler regarded them with furrowed brows.

"It's a subdivision," Jess said, noticing the questioning look on his face. "Or, that's what it's gonna to be. Mama sold it last year to pay the mortgage."

"Wow. And the horses?"

"Gone, too," she replied, shaking her head. "Hopefully to good homes, but I don't know. She didn't tell me right away."

"I'm sorry, Jess," Tyler said and she just smiled sadly.

"You don't need to be. I wasn't here, so..." Jess shook her head again and sipped on her coffee, letting the hot liquid scald her mouth to keep herself from talking. Tyler frowned, watching her carefully.

"Listen, 'bout your mom—"

Jess was quick to interrupt. "Tell me about your work." She toyed with the handle of her cup, embarrassed, careful not to make complete eye contact with the man sitting across from her. The creases in Tyler's brow deepened.

"What?"

"Tell me about your work," Jess repeated, desperate to change the subject. She was interested to hear about his success, but she'd heard enough condolences to last her a lifetime. She didn't know if it would be easier to hear it come from him. "I heard your channel has gained some popularity. That's good, right?"

Tyler looked unsure, but thankfully, he decided not to press. "Yeah...yeah, it's been good," he replied. "We get new followers everyday, donations, all that...we've really upgraded our gear, which is great. And no casualties yet, so I count that as a success."

Jess put her chin in her hand and smiled. "Only you would count that as a success," she commented.

The corner of Tyler's mouth turned up into a partial grin and he shrugged a shoulder. "It's dangerous stuff. I feel like I'm responsible for these people. My team, the fans. I'd feel terrible if someone happened to them, y'know?"

"Yeah, I get it...And you're taking care of yourself, right?" Jess questioned, unable to stop herself from asking.

"As best I can. You?"

"As best I can," she echoed. She plastered a half-baked on her face, but it came off as more fake than reassuring.

Tyler didn't look convinced. "How's the leg?"

Jess sighed and glanced at her cane, which was resting against the side of the table beside her. She reached over and ran a thumb over the smooth leather of the handle. "Some days are better than others," She admitted, albeit reluctantly. "I had a few more surgeries when I was up in Michigan a couple years back. I have enough metal in me nowadays to be classified as bionic."

Tyler chuckled, but the sound faded out quickly. He took a long sip of his coffee and stared out the windows at the sale signs, clearly contemplating something, perhaps what to say next or something else entirely. Jess got up from the table to refill her coffee, which she had unknowingly gulped down in the past few minutes. She felt jittery, perhaps from the caffeine or the conversation, and her fingers trembled as she placed the cup under the spout. Jess leaned against the counter in the meantime. She found it so odd, this moment. She would have never expected to have Tyler Owens back at her kitchen table again. In all honestly, she hadn't expected to see him at all for a long while, much less ever. Jess couldn't remember exactly how things had been left off before she'd moved, but she got the sense it wasn't amicable.

"Is that where you went off to? Michigan?" He asked, glancing in her direction.

Jane nodded. "Yeah, but I've been all over the country. I work for a research and outreach team. We follow the big storms—tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, you name it—and help where we can. I never stay in one place too long."

"Same story, different day, I guess," Tyler said with a wry smile. His tone, and his words for that matter, struck her as odd, but he seemed so nonchalant that it was hard for her to pick up on something.

"Yeah...I guess."

A beat passed before either of them said anything again. Jess was startled by the gentle ding of the coffee maker as it finished percolating and automatically shut off. She poured herself another cup slowly, but decided to only fill it halfway. Maybe less caffeine was better. She didn't drink it right away and instead held it between her hands, watching the steam rise and curl above the white ceramic before disappearing completely. She wished she could call this a comfortable silence, but Jess wasn't feeling all that comfortable.

"I heard about your photos being published," Tyler said at last, as he got up from the kitchen table. Jess offered him another cup, but he shook his head, leaning against the counter beside her. "That's big news, ain't it?"

Jess blew on her coffee in response. "Yeah, it is. But it was just a minor article. I don't expect it to actually go anywhere."

"Are you kiddin' me, Jess? Your work is incredible," Tyler replied, earnestly. Jess ducked her head, pretending to be occupied with a coffee ring stain on the countertop. She scraped a thumbnail against the white laminate, even when Tyler tilted his head to get a better look at her face. "You should be proud."

It wasn't that she didn't believe him, she did, wholeheartedly, but she'd gotten her hopes up about this same topic one too many times. Publications meant recognization and recognization meant, hopefully, job offers. As much as she loved her current job, she wanted to be out in the field, paid to be doing what she loved. It was difficult not to get too optimistic.

"Flattery will get you no where, Owens. I thought you knew that already."

Humor decorated Jess' voice in an attempt to take some of the focus away. She turned away with the mug of fresh coffee in hand but before she could cross the short distance back to the kitchen table, Tyler reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. His grip wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it was firm and it effectively halted her movement. Jess tensed slightly, her brow furrowing as she glanced back at him, surprised by the sudden seriousness etched into his features.

"Tyler, what—?"

"I want you to come with me to Oklahoma."

Jess was so shocked that she nearly dropped her coffee. The dark liquid sloshed over the side of the cup and rolled down the sides, burning her fingers as she hastily set it down on the counter. Surprised, Tyler released her and went to find something to help clean up the mess. Jess swore under her breath, using the counter to guide her to the sink, where she ran cold water over her scalded fingers, trying to soothe the sudden sting. She glanced over her shoulder, watching Tyler mop up the spilled coffee with a decorative kitchen towel, his expression a mix of concern and determination. Jess took a deep breath, steadying herself before turning back to face him.

"Give that to me, I've got it," she said. The linoleum tiles creaked underfoot as she crossed the kitchen and she held her hand out for the towel. He surrendered, handed it over, and for a moment they stood shoulder to shoulder with each other, Tyler's gaze burning a hole into the side of Jess's face. She scrubbed the counter with a renewed determination, ignoring that sad, puppy-dog look on his face.

Jess sighed heavily and tossed the towel away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She braced herself again the counter, exasperated. "Why do you want me to go to Oklahoma?"

"I want you to come storm chasing with me," Tyler answered, and Jess thought he had to be joking, but his expression was so sincere that she quickly realized he was serious. She couldn't help but scoff a laugh.

"You can't be serious," She balked. "I am not goin' storm chasing."

"Just hear me out, okay? We both need publicity, right? Well, I have the fan base and you have the camera skills. If we work together, it might be beneficial for the both of us."

Irritation simmered beneath her controlled tone. "Beneficial for both of us, or just for you?"

"What?"

"Tyler, storm chasing ain't some publicity stunt. It's dangerous. And my camera skills are not for sale," she replied. Tyler's expression fell, but she could tell he was trying not to grow offended. She had to draw in a long, slow breath to combat the frustration and stress  threatening to spill over. "Look, I'm not like you. I'm not fearless or spontaneous or whatever the hell it is you got, and I sure as hell can't up and leave my job or this house to run off somewhere and wrangle twisters."

"And why not? The old Jess would do it."

Jess was stunned. "Well, I ain't her. And I ain't been her for a long time," she snapped. The words stuck in her throat like a foreign object, and she let loose an irritated laugh. "I can't believe you. For saying that, for coming here—that is the reason you came, ain't it?"

"No, it's not," Tyler argued. "I came here to see you."

"Right. Well, I think you've overstayed your welcome."

Jess shook her head to herself and forced herself to walk away before she blew up again. She grabbed her cane and limped to the sliding patio door on the far side of the kitchen, letting herself outside. She didn't wait to see if Tyler was following or not, in fact, she hoped he didn't. Her stomach hurt and she felt like crying again. She hadn't meant to snap or even get angry, but it felt impossible not to. The old Jess would have been able to say yes in a heart beat, without feeling guilty for things out of her control.

She sat down on a retaining wall not far from the back porch, the same place where a vegetable garden once had been, but had since dried out. Now, all that was left was a patch of dirt and yellowing weeds. She sat with her back to the house and kicked small clouds of dust up with her bare feet, the morning sun warm on her face. She didn't cry like she thought she would, she just stared off at the pasture, her tears having dried up long ago, just like the garden. The anger that she felt just kind of slipped away, quietly, and soon, all that she could muster was exhaustion. Jess didn't know how long she was out there—frankly, it probably felt longer than it actually was—but it was long enough that she began to worry that she had, in fact, scared Tyler off. Even though she had told him off, a part of her still expected him to appear outside in his button down and that sappy expression of his.

Then, she heard the patio slide open and closed, and the soft sound of shoes against grass approached her from the porch. Tyler sat down beside her on the wall, putting a careful distance between them. He'd put his hat and boots back on, like he had thought about leaving, but stayed last minute.

"I'm sorry," He said, quietly. "It was wrong of me to come here and ask you that."

She shook her head, expelling a long breath. "No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't haven't gotten mad,"she apologized. "It's just hard, y'know? I haven't had much time to adjust, it's not easy to think about doing things for myself."

"You don't have to explain nothin' to me. I understand."

Jess tilted her head and glanced at Tyler, admiring the glow of the sun behind his hair, which made it look like a halo of golden light. A smile softened her features. "I really do miss you, Tyler. I'm glad you came."

Tyler returned her smile. "I missed you too, Jess."

Jess hesitated, drumming her fingers against the stone of the retaining wall. She chewed on her lip before turning back to him again. "So...Oklahoma you said?"

"Yeah. Oklahoma."

Jess nodded, solemnly. "And goin' to Oklahoma is gonna help?"

"Yeah. I think so."

Jess nodded again in acknowledgment, but her mind was a whirlwind. The thought of leaving behind her familiar routine, her responsibilities, and everything she had to do here, put a heavy weight on her shoulders. The promise of publicity was alluring, but so was the stability she'd worked hard to build. Her heart tugged towards the possibility of doing something for herself, but her head reminded her of the risk of getting into something like this. "You really think I can do it? Storm chasing, I mean."

"Hell yeah. You'd be the best tornado wrangler out there," he remarked, enthusiastically. She couldn't help but crack a grin and she nudged his shoulder with her own. "And don't think I ain't serious, because I am."

"I know you are," she replied, simply, and looked back out at the horizon.

Jess touched the locket that rested against her throat and thought of her mom. She could hear her voice in her head, a sarcastic laugh on her voice like rain on the wind. "Don't be afraid to do what you gotta do, kid. Especially not because of your daddy and me. It ain't our life to live."  Those words had meant something different when she'd left for college or when she'd tried to start fresh in Michigan, and truthfully, she hadn't listened very hard back then. Deep down, Jess knew she needed to hear those words now more than ever.

She glanced at Tyler again and he smiled back, the sun warm on his pretty face. Jess sighed, knowing what choice should be made.

"So, when do we leave?"