Chapter 2
Marjorie
Later that afternoon, I find Colby in his bedroom with a half-packed suitcase lying on the bed. I stare at my brother in disbelief. “You mean you’re actually going through with this stupid bet with Oz?”
“Of course, I am,” Colby says, balling up a flannel shirt and tossing it into his suitcase. “I’ve already called Kane and told him I’ll be sending him the best storm footage of his life.”
With a frustrated growl, I yank the shirt out of the suitcase to fold it properly. As I tuck the sleeves under, I glare at my brother. “Kane Charming has plenty of storm chasers feeding him footage for his stupid podcast. He doesn’t need you.”
It’s the truth. There are tons of idiots out there with 4x4 trucks and a death wish. That’s why Kane’s YouTube channel is so popular.
“My footage will be better,” he says with a cocky grin.
My lip curls in disgust. “I expected you to mature with age, but you’re as stupid as you ever were, and still following Oz around like a puppy.”
Colby scowls, jerking the shirt out of my hands. “I can pack without your help. And I’m not following Oz around like a puppy. I’m proving that I’m the better forecaster, once and for all.”
“By risking your whole career—not to mention your neck —to get up close and personal with a tornado? That’s the definition of stupidity!”
“You don’t have to worry. I’ll be okay. I prom—”
“And for what?” I continue, ignoring him. “For a few YouTube comments and likes? Oz will get an amazing video too. You know he will. So how will yours be better ?”
Colby has the decency to look guilty. “I’ll be careful.”
“Don’t feed me that bullshit.” I practically spit out the words, tears stinging my eyes. “Your goal is to get closer to the action than Oz, and Oz is downright reckless. He won’t be careful, so neither will you. It’ll be just like the time you broke your arm when he dared you to jump your bike off the porch when we were kids. Or like that time in college—”
“Stop,” he says, his tone icy. He never talks about the incident in college that ended his friendship with Oz. It’s still a sore spot more than a decade later.
I place a hand on his arm. “Don’t go, Colby. Please. You have a good life here. You’re the meteorologist of a nationally syndicated morning show. You don’t need to prove anything to Oz. You’re already the winner.”
He mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like, “Maybe I need to prove something to myself.”
I throw my hands up in defeat. “Fine, but you’re on your own for travel arrangements.” The man hasn’t booked his own flight or car rental in years. It’s a miracle he can still tie his shoes without my help.
He frowns but nods his head. “I’m sure I can manage.”
“Fine,” I say again, storming out of his condo and slamming the door behind me. Stubborn ass.
Then I stalk across the hall to my own place. Normally, I like living next door to my brother. We’ve always been close. Plus, proximity helps with my job. But right now, I want to put as much distance between Colby and myself as possible. I’m itching to punch something, and he’s near the top of this list.
Right behind Oscar Metzer.
“Fucking Oz,” I grumble, pacing the length of my living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows mock me with a crystal-clear view of blue sky as far as the eye can see. “Fucking sunny California.”
Sighing, I plop onto my overstuffed sofa. The rest of the apartment is furnished with trendy, top-of-the-line furniture. The interior designer wanted a couch to match, but I insisted on having one piece of furniture in the room that’s comfortable.
Colby and I really do have a charmed life. We have more money than we ever dreamed of as kids and southern California is beautiful. But that’s the problem. A part of me has always known, deep down, that Colby couldn’t be happy here. He’s a weather geek. He wants to study forecast models and save lives. He doesn’t want to be the pretty weatherman on a morning television show in paradise.
It’s time for a change. But this stupid bet with Oz is not the change we need.
Oz. Always causing problems.
He and Colby were best friends from kindergarten through most of college. The two were thick as thieves. But even when we were kids, Oz loved to push the limits. And he dragged Colby over the line right along with him. They spent so many afternoons in detention that it may as well have been an extracurricular activity. It’s a miracle my mama didn’t go crazy trying to keep them in line.
They were both too smart for their own good, too. By the time high school ended, they’d both secured spots in the meteorology program at the University of Michigan. Then their friendship soured, and Colby went on to be a meteorologist for a news station in Louisville, Kentucky before making it to the national stage on Rise and Shine, Los Angeles. Oz went into research and storm chasing and does consultant work for television, movies, and print.
How can two intelligent and successful men be so ridiculously stupid?
I pop up from the couch and grab my keys from the shelf by the door. If Colby won’t listen to me, I’ll just have to convince Oz to call off the bet.
I’ll put a stop to this. By whatever means necessary.