Chapter 24
Xavier
“Don’t worry about the tents,” I called to the ranch hands that were running around as fast as they could. “They’re insured. Get the tables and chairs into the barn. Linens and flowers go into the main house.”
I glanced off toward the western horizon that had grown dark and heavy.
The storm was still a ways off, but it was coming on fast. I felt fear form in the pit of my stomach.
I was an east coast boy. Tornados were something you saw on television, not in real life.
And even from a distance I could tell this wasn’t just going to be some thunderstorm.
I watched Lucas emerge from the barn, his face set in grim determination as he directed two of the newer hands toward a stack of folding chairs. The wind had already picked up, whipping dust devils across the open ground and making the tent canvas snap like gunfire.
“Xavier!” Beau jogged over, his hat pulled low against the gusts. “Lucas wants you inside. Says there’s no point in you being out here if things go sideways.”
“I’m not hiding while everyone else works,” I shot back, grabbing one end of a table. “I planned this wedding, I’m helping save it.”
Beau grabbed the other end without argument, and we hauled it toward the barn. My arms were already aching—turns out event planning didn’t exactly prepare you for manual labor—but I refused to be the delicate city boy who ran inside at the first sign of trouble.
We’d just set the table down when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, expecting another vendor freaking out about the weather, but Marcus’s name lit up the screen instead.
Marcus: How bad is it out there?
I glanced back at the horizon. The clouds had taken on that sickly greenish tinge that even I knew wasn’t good.
Me: Getting worse. We’re moving what we can.
Marcus: Storm’s tracking northeast. Might miss you entirely or might hit dead on. They won’t know for another hour.
Marcus: Stay inside once you’re done. Promise me.
My chest tightened at the concern in those words. Two days ago, I’d been ready to leave Texas and never look back. Now the thought of something happening before I could see Marcus again made my stomach drop.
Me: I promise. You be safe too.
Marcus: Always am.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and grabbed another chair, trying not to think about what always meant when you were a sheriff potentially dealing with a tornado. Marcus had probably done this dozens of times. He knew what he was doing.
That didn’t stop my hands from shaking.
“That’s the last of them!” one of the ranch hands called out, securing the barn doors. The wind was really howling now, bending the trees at unnatural angles. Lightning flickered inside the clouds, illuminating them from within like some kind of hellish lantern.
“Everyone inside!” Lucas shouted over the wind. “Now!”
I didn’t need to be told twice. We all ran for the main house, the first fat raindrops pelting us before we made it through the door. Beau was the last one in, slamming it shut against a gust that nearly tore it from his hands.
The house was packed with ranch hands, all of us dripping and breathing hard. Someone had turned on the weather radio, and the tinny voice of the meteorologist filled the sudden quiet.
“...tornado warning now in effect for Sagebrush and surrounding areas until nine PM. A confirmed tornado has been spotted on the ground approximately fifteen miles west of town, moving northeast at thirty-five miles per hour. Residents are advised to take shelter immediately in interior rooms away from windows...”
My heart stopped. Fifteen miles west. That was where town was. Where Marcus was.
I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers, but there was no signal. The storm must have already taken out a cell tower.
“Xavier.” Lucas’s hand landed on my shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Marcus has been through worse storms than this.”
“You don’t know that,” I said, hating how my voice cracked. “What if—”
“He knows what he’s doing,” Lucas said firmly. “And he’s got the whole town looking out for him just like he looks out for them. He’ll be okay.”
I wanted to believe him. Needed to believe him.
But all I could think about was Marcus out there in that storm, helping people get to safety while a tornado bore down on them.
Marcus, who’d finally started letting himself be happy.
Marcus, who I was supposed to have two more days with before I had to leave.
Marcus, who I’d been too scared to tell I was falling in love with.
The lights flickered once, twice, then went out completely. Someone had flashlights already, their beams cutting through the darkness as the wind screamed outside. The whole house groaned and shuddered, and I heard something crash in the distance.
“Everyone into the cellar, now!” Beau ordered.
We crowded into the narrow hallway and down the cellar stairs, bodies pressed together in the darkness.
I ended up wedged between Lucas and one of the ranch hands whose name I couldn’t remember.
The flashlight beams caught the stone walls of the basement and the dust falling from the ceiling.
Mabel and Frank were close by, their arms wrapped around one another.
On the other side of the room I saw all of the wedding guests crammed in, Beau’s family and Lucas’s friends.
Talk about a terrible vacation. Upstairs the weather radio kept crackling updates, each one worse than the last.
“Tornado has intensified... now an EF-2... significant damage reported on the western edge of town...”
My stomach dropped. Western edge of town. That’s where the sheriff’s office was. Where Marcus would have been coordinating the emergency response.
I pressed my face against Lucas’s shoulder, trying to control my breathing. This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not when we’d just found each other. Not when I hadn’t told him how I felt.
The roar of the wind grew deafening, like a freight train bearing down on us. The house shook violently, and I heard glass shattering somewhere. Someone was praying in Spanish. Someone else was crying. I might have been crying too, I couldn’t tell anymore.
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the roar began to fade.
The wind continued to die down, replaced by an eerie silence that was somehow worse than the roar. Rain began to pound against the house, but that freight train sound was gone. We all stayed frozen in the cellar, nobody willing to move yet, listening for any sign that it was coming back.
“I think it passed,” Beau finally said, his voice sounding too loud in the sudden quiet.
Lucas’s arm tightened around me. “Give it a few more minutes. Sometimes there’s more than one.”
I pulled away from him, fumbling for my phone even though I knew it was pointless. Still no signal. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I stared at the dark screen, willing it to light up with a message from Marcus. Anything. Just three words to tell me he was okay.
“Xavier, he’s fine,” Lucas said again, but even he sounded less certain now.
“You don’t know that.” I shoved my phone back in my pocket. “The western edge of town. That’s where the sheriff’s office is. That’s where he could have been.”
“Marcus is smart,” Beau interjected, climbing the stairs to check conditions above. “He wouldn’t have stayed in the office if it got bad. He would’ve gotten everyone to the shelter.”
I wanted to believe that. I really did. But I kept thinking about Marcus’s text. Always am. Like he was invincible. Like sheriffs didn’t get hurt or killed doing their jobs.
Beau’s boots thudded on the floor above us. “All clear!” he called down. “Looks like we got lucky. Missed us by a mile or so from what I can tell.”
Everyone started filing up the stairs, relief evident in their voices.
I followed on shaky legs, my chest so tight I could barely breathe.
We emerged into the main house to find surprisingly little damage inside the house.
There were some broken windows, water everywhere, and debris scattered across the floor. But the structure was intact.
Through the broken windows, I could see the storm still raging to the northeast, that sickly green cloud illuminated by constant lightning. But it was moving away from us now, away from the ranch. Moving away from Sagebrush.
Outside the wedding tents were in shreds. Poles were scattered across the ground, the plastic canvas was destroyed, and it looked like one of the barn doors had ripped clean off the barn. It was a mess, but it wasn’t total destruction.
But I felt zero relief.
“I need to get to town,” I said, already heading for the door.
Lucas grabbed my arm. “Xavier, you can’t. The roads are going to be a mess. Trees down, power lines—”
“I don’t care.” I jerked free, my voice rising. “I need to know if he’s okay. I need—” My voice broke and I pressed my hands to my face, trying to hold it together and failing miserably.
“Hey, hey.” Lucas pulled me into a hug, and I didn’t fight it this time. “We’ll go check on him. But we’re doing it smart, okay? Let Beau and me drive. We know these roads.”
I nodded against his shoulder, not trusting myself to speak.
“Give me five minutes to assess the damage here and make sure everyone’s accounted for,” Beau said, already moving toward the door. “Then we’ll head into town.”
Those five minutes felt like hours. I paced the living room, stepping over broken glass and soaked furniture, checking my phone obsessively even though the screen stayed dark. No signal. No messages. No way to know if Marcus was alive or dead or hurt somewhere.
Finally, Beau returned. “Ranch is secure. Frank and Mabel are going to coordinate cleanup with the hands. Let’s go.”
The drive into town was a nightmare. Trees blocked half the roads, forcing us to backtrack and find alternate routes.
Power lines hung low and dangerous across intersections.
The rain had finally started to let up, but the damage was everywhere.
Roofs were torn off buildings, cars were flipped over, and entire structures had been reduced to piles of splintered wood.
My stomach churned with every block we passed. The closer we got to the western edge of town, the worse it looked.
“Jesus,” Lucas breathed from the backseat.
The sheriff’s office came into view, and my heart stopped.
The building was still standing, but barely. The roof was partially gone, windows blown out, the front door hanging at an odd angle. Mrs. Baxter’s car was in the parking lot, crushed by a tree branch. But Marcus’s truck was nowhere to be seen. Probably carried away by the tornado.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”
Beau had barely stopped the truck before I was out, running toward the building. Behind me I heard Lucas calling my name, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.
“Marcus!” I shouted, stumbling through the destroyed doorway. Glass crunched under my feet. Papers swirled in the wind coming through the broken windows. “Marcus, where are you?”
The office was empty. Desks overturned, filing cabinets on their sides, everything covered in debris and rain. But no Marcus. No Mrs. Baxter. No bodies.
“They’re not here,” Beau said from behind me, his hand on my shoulder. “That’s good, Xavier. That means they got out.”
“Or they’re buried somewhere,” I choked out, my eyes burning. “Or the tornado—”
“The shelter,” Lucas interrupted, pointing. “The town has a storm shelter two blocks over. That’s where they would have gone.”
Hope flared in my chest, painful and desperate. I took off running before either of them could stop me, my feet pounding against the wet pavement as I dodged debris and downed power lines. My lungs burned, my legs screamed in protest, but I didn’t slow down. Two blocks had never felt so far.
The storm shelter was a squat concrete building partially underground, the kind of structure that looked like it could survive a nuclear blast. The heavy metal door was closed, but I could see light seeping out from the cracks around it.
I grabbed the handle and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked from the inside.
“Marcus!” I pounded on the door with both fists, not caring that I was probably bruising my hands. “Marcus, are you in there?”
For a moment, nothing. Just the sound of my own ragged breathing and the distant rumble of thunder as the storm continued to move away.
Then I heard the scrape of metal on metal as someone unlocked the door from inside.
It swung open to reveal Mrs. Baxter, her usually perfect hair in disarray, her clothes wrinkled and dusty. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
“Xavier? What are you doing here? The storm—”
“Is Marcus here?” I interrupted, trying to see past her into the shelter. “Is he okay?”
“He’s—” she started, but I was already pushing past her, my eyes scanning the crowded space.
The shelter was packed with people. Families huddled together, elderly residents sitting on benches along the walls, children crying in their parents’ arms. My eyes swept over all of them, desperate, searching.
“Marcus?” I called, pushing through them. “Marcus!”