Epilogue
Joey
ONE YEAR LATER
“That right there is called shit on a shingle.” Four pairs of disgusted eyes stare at me from around my dinner table. Attempting not to laugh, I sit down at the head of the table and grin at my plate of chipped beef on toast. I pick up a fork and dig in, humming around the rich gravy and meat.
When I don’t hear any sounds of forks or eating, I look up from my plate to see my team still staring at me. I bite back another laugh.
“What?”
“Joseph,” Ryker grumbles, and again, I have to stop myself from laughing. I think it’s hysterical when he uses my first name. “This looks like…”
“Shit?” I grin, taking in another mouthful.
“That’s one way to put it, man,” Ezra says.
I swallow and take a sip of my water. “SOS was a family staple of mine growing up. Cheap, easy—my grandpa used to eat it in the military. It’s comfort food.”
Hawk pushes some of it around on his plate. “A comfort to whom?” he asks.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I adore that man, but for someone who eats gas station food on the regular, he sure can be picky.
“Eat it,” I bark at them. “It’s like sausage gravy on toast. You’ll all like it.”
Finley picks up her fork and cuts into her toast. I take another bite as the guys watch her, Ryker in particular. Though he’s more focused on her mouth opening than anything else.
Not that I can blame him. T-Mama is a snack, and I’d be obsessed with her, too, if she were my girlfriend. Hell, I’m kind of obsessed with her, anyway—but in a totally platonic friend way. I’ve got Hawk to keep me warm, and I like his mouth maybe more than Ryker likes Finley’s.
I grin around another forkful of food at the dirty image in my mind and shoot a glance at Hawk beside me. He feels my gaze and meets my eyes, eyebrow lifting. I make a show of poking my tongue against my cheek in a lewd way, and Hawk flushes.
He’s so easy to rile up when it comes to sex. When we first started seeing each other, he was a total prude, and while he still kind of is, I’ve had that man on the bottom, top, sideways, all the ways. He’s fucking glorious. We’ve also recently made things official. He’s my first serious boyfriend, and believe it or fucking not, I’m his, too. That tickles me to no end, and I have Finley and Ryker to thank for it. Had they not gotten together a year ago, I don’t know if Hawk would’ve made the leap.
My dear friend boning her ex-professor is why we’re all working together as a storm-chasing team. She constantly reminds me that I could have joined the team without her, but it wouldn’t have been the same. And I think Ryker and Finley’s relationship being on display in front of us constantly, the two macking on each other and calling each other pet names in the field, showed Hawk that he and I could be more than just fuck buddies. Especially since we have the same age difference as they do.
So yeah, if Hawk and I ever make this thing permanent, I’m thanking T-Daddy and T-Mama in my wedding vows, the freaking horndogs. Not that I’m much better.
I wiggle my eyebrows at my Hawk-man then turn my attention to Finley. “What do you think, Fin-Fin? ”
She swallows and wipes her mouth on a napkin. “I like it.” Ezra, Hawk, and I turn to Ryker to see if she’s lying, and Finley groans. “I’m telling the truth—you don’t need to ask him.”
“Is she?” Hawk asks his bestie, his fork poised above his food, waiting for his answer.
It’s a well-known fact among us all that if Finley lies, Ryker can tell. He has some sort of weird built-in truth barometer when it comes to her. It’s fucking weird and cute all at the same time.
“She likes it.” He smiles.
Finley rolls her eyes and cuts another bite. “It’s good, Joey. It is comforting.”
“See!” I say to the guys. “Now eat your dinners, or you don’t get dessert.”
“Dessert?” Ezra asks.
“Yes, peach pie. Now eat, all of you.”
Finley grins at my command, and the two of us share a look that says “these idiots” before digging back into our food.
Eventually, the rest of the guys eat, agreeing that it’s good despite its looks, and easy conversation starts to flow. As dinner ticks by, I find myself feeling all warm and fuzzy inside sitting here and sharing a meal with the people I love.
I grew up an only child, and while I had my family, my parents had me later in life, and I’m alone now. This group of people in front of me, they’ve become my family, which is why I instituted a monthly “family dinner” after we all got comfortable with each other. It’s one night a month where one of us makes a home-cooked meal. Sometimes we miss it due to a chase, but we always make sure we have a rain date.
Once dinner is done and the peach pie has been eaten, we all make our way to my backyard where I have a deck with some chairs. It’s dark out, and the air is muggy. All the alarm bells in my mind start going off that we might see a twister tonight.
Ryker sits on a chair next to me, and Finley perches on his lap while Hawk sits on the other side of me and Ezra leans over the wooden railing, pulling out his phone. For a moment, I wonder if he’s talking to a woman given the way he’s smiling, but then I see he’s looking at his email.
An easy silence envelops us as the wind picks up, blowing through a wind chime I have hung near the sliding door.
“Holy shit!” Ezra shouts, and I nearly jump out of my chair.
“What is it?” Ryker asks, voice laced with concern.
Ezra turns and holds up his phone. The print is too tiny to see what’s on it, but I think I know what it is.
Finley jumps up and claps her hands. “Is it published?”
Ryker stands from his chair and moves next to her, taking her hand firmly in his.
“It is!” Ezra laughs. “Take a look.”
He hands the phone to Finley, and she takes it. “Research Paper by Dr. Ryker West, et al.: Rocket deployment of a trackable meteorological probe into the Red Rock EF3 tornado and mesocyclone!” By the time she’s finished reading the title, she’s practically squealing, jumping into Ryker’s arms.
“Have I told you how much I love you, Tornado Daddy?” My nickname for Ryker coming from her lips has the group chuckling. And while the grumpy ex-professor’s normal reaction to the name would be to grouse or roll his eyes, he smiles brightly at his girl, love reflecting in his eyes.
“You might have. But please, tell me again—or better yet, you can show me later when we’re alone.”
Finley flushes, and he mouths “I love you” before kissing her sweetly. When she pulls back, cheeks still pink and smile wide, she pushes Ryker toward the rest of us. The group embraces and congratulates each other on our hard work before I go get us beer to toast with.
When I’m back, we stand around in a circle, the faint porch light glowing enough that I can see the excited faces of my found family and boyfriend.
“To us,” Ryker says, lifting up his bottle. “The best motherfucking storm chasers around. ”
We all cheer and laugh, clinking our bottles together before drinking. That paper gave us a lot of headaches, and I know Ryker and Finley are glad it’s done and published. We can all move on to even bigger things, especially since Finley graduated recently, completing the credits she needed under a new female professor that Ryker suggested the university hire in his place. Finley even asked her to come on a chase with us later this summer to add more feminine energy—which I think is a great idea.
The team is also glad because we don’t have to rely on the school for any funding. All our chases and newly-designed rockets my man and I created have been funded by private donors and grants—and we can’t forget merchandise sales. Women love Ryker’s face on their tits, and Finley thinks it’s hilarious.
After another round of cheers and celebration, we all move to sit back down, but as my butt’s about to hit the chair, all our phones go off with emergency alerts. I stand back up and face my team, the lot of them pulling out their phones like I am.
“Looks like that storm cell east of here went severe,” Finley says.
I tuck my phone back in my Wranglers and throw my arm around Hawk’s shoulder, shaking him a bit in my excitement. “Whaddya say, people? Cap this night off with a little storm-chasing action?”
Hawk gently smiles at me, and I think he’s blushing, still not quite used to me touching him in front of everyone. But he’ll get used to it, and I know he likes it or he wouldn’t be heated the way he is.
“I’m game,” Ezra says.
“Sounds like a good way to celebrate,” Hawk adds.
The three of us turn our gazes to Finley and Ryker, but Finley’s looking at Ryker, too, waiting for our team leader to say the words .
He stands a little straighter under our attention and turns the red ball cap he had facing forward to the back, a sly smirk teasing the corner of his lips. Fuck, I love when T-Daddy gets all dramatic.
“Let’s hit the road. We’ve got a twister to tame.”