Whirlwind

6. Finley

Chapter six

Finley

I can’t see where I’m going, but all I know is that this is it. I’m going to die. I’m going to die, and Jake is going to bring me back to life so he can kill me again for breaking my promise not even two hours after I made it.

A fierce tug on my arm reminds me that I’m not alone. I’m not going to die alone.

Tears prick my eyes, and I’m not sure if I should hate myself for thinking that. If I die, Ryker probably will, too. Goddammit. My first chase with him, and it’s going to be my last. Our last. And I’m the one who drove us, who couldn’t get us out in time.

My legs pump as fast as they can, and I feel like I’m running through molasses. My heart bangs against my chest as if it’s going to come out of it and land on the ground next to me. Then I’m hit with a tree branch or something pointy, because it scratches my cheek.

“Fuck!” I cry out. But the sound of the tornado bearing down on us is too loud for me to even hear my own words. I quickly glance over my shoulder, and wind mixed with dirt and grass pelts me as I see the swirling monster, which means this tornado has to be over half a mile wide now—or even more. The insane part of me wants to keep looking, but hands tug me to a stop, and I face Ryker.

“Get down!” he screams.

I spot the ditch and ungracefully drop into it, thankful that Ryker knew this was here. It can’t be more than a couple of feet high on each side, but it might protect us.

My knees bang on the hard ground, and muddy water splashes on me, soaking my jeans and the white T-shirt I stupidly wore today. Before I can think more about my idiotic wardrobe choices, Ryker gets down next to me and tugs me into his side protectively, putting his lips to my ear.

“Lay down, and cover your head!”

The bellowing whistle of the tornado draws nearer, and I do as he says. The water in the ditch thankfully isn’t deep, but I have to turn my head to the side and rest it on my forearm so I don’t ingest it. A moment later, Ryker’s muscular body lays completely over mine, covering me like my own personal shield. His strong arms cage me in so nothing can hit me.

“It’s going to be okay, Fin. Try to brace yourself however you can!” he yells against my ear. Then I swear he places a kiss on my head before pressing his forehead into my hair.

My heart aches from not only the action but my shortened name as well. I’d imagined Ryker calling me that in my daydreams, though none of those daydreams involved lying in a muddy ditch while a tornado threatened to murder us.

With a shaky breath, I pry open my eyes and manage to shift under Ryker so I can tilt my chin up and look down the length of the ditch. I wasn’t able to look long enough before, and I want to see the tornado approach. I want to see the very thing I love and have chased since I was a teenager come for me.

The moment my eyes connect with it and I’m able to really take it in, a kind of awe sparks in my chest for a brief moment as I witness the wedge tornado with such a wide debris field, I can’t tell where it ends and the tornado begins. It sends a shiver up my spine considering what could be in it.

It barrels closer and closer, the wind ravaging us more than it was before. The smell of wet dirt and rain fills my nose as the muggy, dust-filled air makes it hard to breathe. The howling sound of the twister is deafening, and within another few seconds, it’s on top of us.

My eyes slam shut, and every muscle in Ryker’s body locks as the tornado barrels over us, relentless and unforgiving. I start to pray, not knowing what else to do. I pray to God that we make it out of this. That I get to see Ryker smile and hear Jake’s laugh again. That I get to walk into my dad’s house and see him yelling at a football game as if the team can hear him through the TV.

I’m not ready to go meet my mom on the other side yet. I’m not ready.

“It’s okay, Finley!” Ryker yells, though I can hardly hear him. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” But who’s got you? I want to ask. I don’t know how he’s staying put, how he’s holding on.

I pray harder, and I hear him grunt and strain as he tries to remain over me. Yet somehow, by some miracle, he continues to stay put. His body is a heavy and comforting weight on my back and legs as he braces himself harder. His legs shift, and his feet and hands press into the ditch, holding us down like an anchor.

My ears ring from what really does sound like a freight train over us, and I try to focus on the feeling of Ryker’s heart thumping on my back and his muscles tensing, letting me know he’s still with me. Still alive.

Several more pained sounds escape his lips as the storm hurtles above us furiously like the demon from hell that it is. The longer the seconds drag on, the more I want to open my eyes, to see the inside of one of Mother Nature’s greatest phenomena, but I don’t do it. Instead, I zone out and focus on Ryker, on his short, hot breaths against my neck and his heart that’s still beating against my back.

I force my body to relax and fully surrender, accepting my fate.

After what is probably a few more seconds but feels like several minutes, the sound of the train begins to fade, and my ears pop. Wind brushes across my wet cheeks and damp hair, but it’s not as violent now. More seconds tick by, and the sound of the tornado continues to lessen and move away.

“Finley, open your eyes.”

Ryker’s voice is distorted and seems far away, so I press my eyes tighter together, worried if I open them I’ll be greeted by the pearly gates.

“Finley.” His voice sounds clearer now. “It’s over.” Another pause as he breathes. “You can open your eyes.” The crack in his hoarse voice is what finally makes me do it. My eyes adjust to the gray light, and I blink a few times.

Ryker helps me turn over, his hand cupping the back of my head so it’s not in the water, but his body still presses into mine as he scans me for injury while I stare up at him, wide-eyed. When he’s satisfied I’m in one piece, his eyes connect with mine, pupils blown out and brow creased with what I assume is both worry and relief.

“We’re alive,” I state.

“We’re alive,” he confirms.

“How are we alive?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

I stare at him for a long moment, shock still rattling my system, before I finally ask, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay—a little bruised up but fine. Are you?”

“I think so.”

He trails his wet fingers over my cheekbones, and I hiss when he brushes near the cut on my cheek.

He winces. “It’s shallow. I don’t think it’ll scar.”

I think of the day I first went to his office hours and saw the scratches on his cheek from a chase. I’d thought that scars on him would be so sexy.

A smile attempts to tug at my lips as I bring one of my hands up to push his wet hair—that appears almost black from the water—off his forehead. His hat is long gone, lost to the storm. A droplet of water lands on my cheek at my motion, and time once again seems to stand still. But now, it’s not because of our brush with death, it’s because Ryker West is pressed against me chest to chest with his hand on my cheek. And now mine is on his.

“Finley, I’m sor—”

“Don’t say it. Don’t.”

“But—”

I press my finger to his lips, and his gaze remains locked on mine. “We just lived through a tornado. If you say you’re sorry for the choices we both made, I’m going to knee you in the balls.” The words are out of my mouth before I can think about not saying them to my professor.

There’s a short pause, and then a belly laugh bursts from Ryker’s lips. He smiles, the smile I prayed to see again. It’s beautiful, even more so with the burnt-orange light of sunset popping out through the clouds—an often annoying quirk of tornadoes. If it weren’t for the devastation they left behind, I’d almost forget they were ever there when the sun emerges in their wake.

I pull my finger from his lips, but he snatches it. The breath in my lungs goes on vacation as my lips part. His gaze drifts to my mouth and then back to mine. The spark that was gone from them a minute ago is there again, and his wet chest rises and falls beneath the T-shirt plastered to his skin and ripped in some places. My hips automatically lift up, and when I feel the hard length of him pressing against my heat, I nearly gasp.

Ryker doesn’t apologize. Instead, he continues to gaze into my eyes as if he’s seeing into my soul. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, he just stares—like he’s searching for something in them.

“Ryker.” His name leaves me in a whisper.

He blinks but doesn’t stop staring, his hold on me only tightening as our heads dip closer together. “Tell me not to kiss you, Finley.”

My chest tightens at his words, words I’ve only heard in my dirtiest professor fantasies. I wet my lips in anticipation of his kiss. They’re salty from sweat, earth, and probably tears, but I don’t care.

I shift my hips against his heat, and his forehead drops to mine as a breathless sound leaves his tight lips.

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Then tell me what I feel for you is wrong. That I need to get up and walk away.” His breath skitters over my lips, reminding me that he’s alive. I’m alive. We lived through a tornado and made it out with hardly a scratch on us. I think, if anything, we deserve this kiss, need this kiss more than we need anything else right now.

“I’m not going to tell you that, either,” I murmur.

Ryker abruptly shifts off me, and the evening’s cooling air against my wet clothes sends a shiver through me, making my nipples pebble. A brief wave of rejection hits, but it fades as Ryker pulls me from the ditch and onto the grassy bank with ease, pinning me to the ground. I don’t have time to question him, because his rough, warm lips descend on mine. I melt into him like ice cream in summer, allowing him to sweep me away.