23. Lila
LILA
I wake to the feeling of warmth and Jonah’s steady breathing against my neck, his arm a comforting weight across my waist. For a moment, I just lie there, savoring the sensation of being held by someone who knows all my sharp edges and hasn’t cut himself running away.
Then the banging starts.
“Hey, lovebirds!”
Lucas. Of course it’s Lucas.
I groan and bury my face deeper into the pillow. “If we’re very, very quiet, maybe he’ll go away.”
Jonah makes a sleepy noise against my hair. “That’s not how Lucas works.” His arm tightens around me. “He just gets louder.”
As if on cue, the banging intensifies. “I know you’re in there! I can hear you ignoring me!”
“I’m going to murder him,” I mutter, reluctantly extracting myself from Jonah’s embrace. My shoulder throbs in protest as I sit up, and memories of last night flash through my mind, bringing heat to my cheeks. “And then I’m going to put his body in the path of a tornado and call it an accident.”
Jonah chuckles. “That seems excessive.”
“Maybe pick better friends next time,” I reply, searching for my clothes.
“You’re the one who brought Weather Boy into our lives,” I grumble, finding my shirt twisted under the covers. I pull it on carefully, wincing as my shoulder protests. “This is your fault.”
Jonah slides out of bed, grabbing his pants from the floor. “I’m starting to regret every life choice that led to this friendship.”
We dress hurriedly, like teenagers caught by parents, which is ridiculous considering we’re both adults. I’m struggling with my sling when Jonah finally opens the door.
Lucas stands there with a grin so wide it threatens to split his face in half. Max sits obediently at his feet, tail wagging as soon as he sees us.
“Well, well, well!” Lucas exclaims, looking between us with eyebrows raised suggestively. “I was about to call the fire department! The heat coming from this room could’ve set off every sprinkler in the building!”
I cross my arms, unimpressed. “Really? That’s the best you could come up with?”
Jonah grimaces beside me. “Lucas...”
“What? I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking!” Lucas pushes past us into the room, Max trotting behind him. “The sexual tension between you two has been off the charts since day one. I’m surprised the storm systems aren’t forming around you instead of the other way around.”
“I’m reconsidering that murder plan,” I mutter to Jonah, who places a warning hand on my arm.
Lucas raises his hands in mock surrender. “Far be it from me to interrupt my best friend finally getting laid, but unless you two are planning to catch the next one...” he points dramatically toward the window, “we need to go. Like, twenty minutes ago.”
I blink, momentarily thrown by the shift from his teasing to actual urgency. “Wait, what?”
“The system you’ve been tracking?” Lucas taps his watch. “Dude, how good was the sex if even you forgot about chasing today.”
Jonah’s entire demeanor changes instantly. He moves to his laptop, opening it with newfound urgency. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“I tried calling!” Lucas protests. “Six times!”
Jonah pulls his phone from his pocket. Sure enough, there are multiple missed calls from Weather Boy.
“How far out is it?” I ask.
“About forty miles southwest,” Lucas says, watching as Jonah pulls up the radar. “But it’s moving fast and intensifying. The updraft velocity is off the charts.”
Jonah’s eyes widen as he studies the screen. “This is incredible. The mesocyclone is already well-defined, and look at this hook echo.”
I peer over his shoulder, already feeling the rush of adrenaline kick in. “Damn,” I whisper, leaning in closer. The rotation pattern is textbook, but building at twice the normal speed. My pulse picks up with that mix of excitement and awe. “She’s beautiful.”
“She’s dangerous,” Jonah corrects, but I catch the undercurrent of awe in his voice that matches my own. His fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up additional data layers. “Look at these wind shear values.”
Lucas bounces on his heels behind us. “So we’re going, right? Please tell me we’re going.”
“Of course we’re going,” I say, already moving toward my bag.
Jonah had washed everything salvageable from our brush with death and had even picked up some essentials that had to be replaced for me.
Were they in colors I like? No, but I’ll let it slide this time.
He was under extreme duress with me being in the hospital, and the whole blaming him for all of troubles argument.
He can have a pass on this one. My shoulder protests as I bend down, but the adrenaline dulls the pain.
“Jonah, how long will it take us to get in position?”
He’s already calculating, his professor brain working faster than most supercomputers. “If we leave now, we can intercept near Millerton.”
“Perfect.” I turn to Lucas, who’s filming us with his phone again. “Weather Boy, if you’re coming with us, make yourself useful and plot us a course.”
“Yes, ma’am!” He salutes dramatically but does as I ask, lowering his phone.
I grab my bag. Max circles around us excitedly, sensing the pre-chase energy that’s suddenly electrifying the room. The three of us hurry outside to the SUV, Jonah already rattling off data points about updraft velocity and wind shear that make my heart race.
When we reach the vehicle, I pop the trunk to check my dad’s salvaged equipment and feel my stomach drop. In my haste to get Jonah’s pants off, I completely forgot that Dad’s equipment isn’t exactly in working order.
“Shit,” I mutter, picking up the mangled pressure sensor. “This is worse than I thought.”
Jonah appears at my side. “Can we use any of it?”
I turn the console over in my hands, examining the circuit board inside. “Maybe, but not without serious repairs. The tornado did a number on everything.”
“What about the backup sensors?” he asks, pointing to a smaller box nestled in the corner.
I check it quickly, but it’s no better. “Water damage. The casing cracked.”
Jonah frowns at the equipment, then looks at me. “Do you think you can fix it while I drive?”
I lift my sling with my eyebrows raised. “With one functioning arm? I’m good, but not that good.” I wiggle my fingers poking out from the edge of the sling. “This kind of repair needs two hands and preferably some tools we don’t have.”
Lucas, who’s been hovering nearby pretending not to eavesdrop, suddenly perks up like a dog who heard the word “treat.”
“Well...” he drawls, stepping forward with a barely concealed grin, “I can fix it, but that means I get to ride along with you instead of following along.”
I shoot Jonah a look that clearly says “absolutely not,” but he’s already considering it, his scientist brain working through the problem like an equation.
“You know electronics?” I ask, sounding skeptical.
Lucas puffs up his chest. “I built my own weather station when I was twelve. Plus, I’ve been handling broadcast equipment for years.
” He reaches for the damaged console. “This doesn’t look too bad.
Water damage, some bent connectors. I can jury-rig something while we’re on the move for the console to not only work, but connect with the equipment my station provided. ”
“It’s not a bad idea, Lila,” Jonah admits.
I groan. “You want him to ride with us?”
“Do you want working equipment?” Lucas counters, already examining the circuit board.
Jonah gives me an apologetic look. “We need the equipment.” He places a gentle hand on my good shoulder. “It’s just one chase.”
I look from the hopeful expression on Lucas’s face to Jonah’s apologetic one, then down at my useless arm in its sling. As much as I hate to admit it, Weather Boy is our best option right now.
“Fine,” I concede with all the grace of someone agreeing to a root canal. “But there are rules.”
Lucas nods eagerly. “Anything.”
“No filming inside the vehicle while we’re chasing. No unnecessary commentary. No touching anything except the equipment you’re fixing. And if I tell you to shut up, you shut up immediately.”
“Deal,” he agrees, far too quickly. “You won’t even know I’m there.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” I mutter, but I step aside to let him collect the damaged equipment.
Ten minutes later, we’re on the road. Jonah drives, his eyes flicking between the windshield and the GPS where our storm target is marked. I’m relegated to the back seat with Max, since Lucas needs the front passenger seat to work on the equipment. The indignity burns almost as much as my shoulder.
“The main issue is the water damage to the pressure sensor,” Lucas explains, his fingers deftly working inside the console’s guts.
He’s got tools spread across his lap that he apparently keeps in his news van “for emergencies.” “But I think I can bypass this section and reroute through the secondary circuit.”
I watch with reluctant fascination as Lucas’s fingers move through the tangle of wires. For all his Weather Boy antics, he clearly knows what he’s doing, which irritates me almost as much as his terrible jokes.
“Where did you learn to do this?” I ask, leaning forward from the back seat, my chin practically resting on his shoulder.
“My dad was an electrical engineer,” he says without looking up, stripping a wire with his teeth in a way that would make any proper technician cringe. “I used to take apart everything in our house. TV remotes, radios, and my mom’s blender. She wasn’t thrilled about that last one.”
“Shocking,” I mutter, but I’m secretly impressed with how quickly he’s diagnosing the issues.
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
“Twenty minutes, maybe? Thirty tops.” Lucas pulls a small bottle from his toolkit and begins carefully applying some clear liquid to the corroded areas. “This is just contact cleaner. Should help restore connectivity.”