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  As such, they’d learned to let it slide.

  “Pack a bag. You’re done with this, Third.”

  Doug had dubbed him “Third” during their second-grade year, when they were practicing handwriting and TJ was struggling to spell out his moniker. The teacher had insisted he add “the third” to his name for some weird reason only educators ever seemed to understand.

  Doug teased him about it at recess, calling him The Third. Damn if the name didn’t stick and spread, with The dropped eventually as most of their school friends adopted it. Sometimes Doug felt kinda bad about that, but TJ claimed to think it was a hoot, so he didn’t try too hard to break the habit.

  “Bag for what?”

  “Got you a job with that research crew I’ve been spending the last few springs with. Our second cameraman quit a couple weeks ago. We’re in a bind. It’s not great money, more internship than job, but you need to get out of this town—out of this house—for a while. Change of scenery will do you good.”

  TJ worked at the local lumberyard, a job they both knew he hated.

  Doug rocked back on his heels, waiting for the inevitable response.

  TJ didn’t disappoint him. “You know I can’t do that, Doug.”

  “Far as I can tell, you can. You’re a twenty-three-year-old man, Third. You’re dying on the vine in this town. I’m not asking you to leave forever. Just for a few weeks. Might encourage your dad to clean himself up.”

  Even as he said it, they both knew that was never going to happen.

  On drunk days, Thorn cracked open the first bottle of cheap-ass whiskey with breakfast and he didn’t stop drinking until he passed out, going through what TJ referred to as the Five Stages of Thorn. It started with him grumpily complaining about his morning hangover, sucking down Advil with the first glass of whiskey, moving through a brief spurt of maniacal happiness, followed by a dark depressed state that morphed into the irrational anger phase, and ended with the zombie pose he was clearly shifting toward right now as he stared at the TV, motionless, his eyelids closed into mere slits.

  “He hit the fifth stage early today,” Doug said, his tone more tired than angry. This conversation was one they’d been playing on repeat ever since high school graduation.

  “Doug—” TJ started.

  “I’m not leaving without you, man. I mean it. You’re not your father’s keeper.”

  TJ started to argue the point, but Doug cut him off.

  “Fine. You think you are because of that damn promise to your mom, but you know what? He’s an adult. You seriously plan to grow old here? This can’t be the life you want for yourself.”

  “We can’t always get what we want, Doug. You, of all people, should understand that. You didn’t get what you wanted out of life, either.”

  TJ had shown up at the ranch just seconds after Jake had given Doug the talk that coaxed him out of his misery over his broken leg all those years ago. Doug could remember that visit like it happened yesterday, but not because it had changed the course of his professional life. It was because it had revealed something deep inside himself that he’d never seen before that day, something he’d never talked about aloud to another living soul, not Jake or Bryant or his brother James. Not even TJ.

  Jake left after they shook hands, and Doug lowered himself back to the chair. He heard the older man talking briefly to someone at the front door. He recognized the voice and grimaced. His best friend, TJ, had stopped by every single day to check on him since the accident. And he’d been an asshole every time.

  TJ stopped in the doorway.

  “Hey,” Doug said, giving him a friendly, if wary grin. TJ had every right to be pissed off at him.

  “You done being a dick?”

  Doug nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Good. Because I want to show you something.” TJ claimed the chair Jake had just vacated, and Doug spotted the family’s old video camera in his hands. “Borrowed this from your dad. We’re going to start making videos.”

  For the better part of an hour, TJ laid out his plan for a journalism club at school as Doug listened, first skeptically, and then with genuine excitement.

  He’d woken up this morning with no plan, nothing to look forward to and nothing but bitterness inside him. In the course of sixty minutes, Jake and TJ had changed all that.

  “Why don’t we move out to the front porch and start practicing with it?” Doug suggested, ready to leave his self-imposed chair prison.

  He reached out, silently asking his friend for help to stand. TJ offered without hesitation. When Doug wobbled unsteadily, almost falling, TJ placed strong hands on his upper arms, keeping him upright. The position put their faces too close—and for a split second, he thought his best friend was going to kiss him.

  And for that same split second, Doug realized he would let him.

  The moment passed in the blink of an eye and Doug shook it off, blamed it on the pain meds. But the idea—no, the feeling—shook him.

  Stuck with him all day, and in the weeks that followed.

  TJ had spent a lot of time with Doug in the months after his accident. Finally out of his funk, Doug returned to his old self, doing most of the talking—as always—ready to discuss life and the future and new dreams. It wasn’t until his rodeo plans were dashed that Doug realized TJ had never talked about his own hopes for the future. That was when he figured out TJ never let himself think very far ahead, his plans not stretching much beyond each day.

  That knowledge had eaten at Doug for years, and he’d tried a million different times and ways to get his friend to let himself dream.

  In the end, TJ said he was perfectly happy taking life one day at a time. Said it was the easiest way to avoid disappointment. Doug hadn’t offered a response to that in the past because it was just as TJ said, after that broken leg, he did understand, even if he didn’t agree.

  Now Doug was ready for every argument. “Think about it, TJ. This is the perfect gig. It’s only a short-time commitment, a vacation from our regular lives. Our chance to get out of this town and see a bit of the world.”

  TJ rolled his eyes. “I don’t call driving all over the Midwest chasing tornadoes a vacation. It’s the work of insane people.”

  Doug chuckled. “We don’t just chase tornadoes. We’re pretty fond of severe thunderstorms, too.”

  “You have issues,” TJ said. “Besides, you can act like you can’t wait to get out of this town, but we both know better. You’ll be back for good eventually.” He and Doug were Compton Pass boys through and through. Neither one of them would ever leave town forever. This place was too much a part of them. They may not have totally figured out their roles here, found their places, but they would.

  “Fine. Then it’s a chance for you to brush up on your video and photography skills. You have a great eye. It’s a crime to waste it.”

  The two of them had indeed started a journalism club their junior year in high school, declaring they wanted to bring school news to the student body with their newfound camera skills. Neither one of them was short on charm, Doug’s dad comparing them to used-car salesmen, proclaiming they could sell sunglasses to a blind man.

  Fortunately, their new principal, Mrs. Watkins, had come from a big-city school where journalism was actually part of the curriculum, so she was pretty easy to persuade. She convinced the PTA to outfit them with a couple of used video cameras that were better than his dad’s, one low-cost digital camera and a refurbished laptop computer. From there, CPSN—Compton Pass School News—was born, and the club was still going strong today.

  TJ shook his head. “That was just something I did as a kid, man. To kill time until graduation. You were the real talent.”

  In that moment, Doug realized exactly how far TJ had fallen. Working the camera, as well as taking turns in front of it—interviewing their star football players, the Homecoming Queen and president of the Student Council—had been the highlight of their high school careers. It had gotten TJ out of the house and awa
y from his dad, given him a chance to actually be a regular teenager for a while.

  “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  TJ shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I haven’t picked up a camera in years. Don’t have a fancy degree.”

  Doug snorted. “I’d hardly call an associate’s degree ‘fancy.’ And you should have taken those classes with me.”

  “Wasn’t any money for that. Besides, we live in Compton Pass, Doug. Not Hollywood. What the hell good would that degree do me?”

  “You could have been on the road with me these last few springs with the research team.” Doug had begged TJ to join him at a nearby community college to study video with him the year after graduation. With rodeo off the table, Doug discovered a new direction in digital video production. He’d found the degree program and signed up with his family’s blessing.

  “Dad needed me close to home.”

  His friend’s words drew Doug’s gaze back to the black eye—and his anger sparked. “Pack the damn bag, TJ. You’re not staying here.”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  TJ was an easygoing guy, quiet, affable, but he wasn’t a pushover. Doug didn’t doubt that his friend had defended himself well against his dad all these years, despite the black eye he was sporting. Doug had been around to see more than a few of Thorn’s violent outbursts. He would find some small offense, blow it out of proportion and start swinging. When he was younger, TJ had learned to move fast, to dodge, to get out of the house. He used to say it wasn’t that hard to outrun an overweight, drunk, middle-aged man.

  Now that he was older, he tended to stand his ground. Thorn would swing, TJ would dodge, then push back. He claimed it only took that one shove to remind his dad he was more than capable of kicking his ass these days.

  The fact that Thorn landed an elbow bothered Doug. Because TJ was always on guard, always ready. Why had he lowered his defenses this time?

  Doug had come here intent on winning the battle. He didn’t like leaving TJ alone again.

  Doug had traveled with the research team the past three springs during peak tornado season, filming the storms and the team’s discussions as they analyzed the data. His family called him a storm chaser, and in some ways, he supposed that was true. However, most of their days were a hell of a lot less eventful, spent sitting around campgrounds, waiting for storms or in parking lots, releasing weather balloons ahead of oncoming bad weather. This year, they were heading out in the fall to study out-of-season tornadoes. There’d been a couple tornadoes in Illinois in November last year, and the team hoped to gather more data on the anomalies.

  It was late August. They’d be gone until mid-December—something TJ didn’t need to know at the moment—and if the weather predictions forecasting a turbulent autumn were true, Doug figured they wouldn’t have a chance to come home between. Which served his purposes just fine. He wanted TJ away from Thorn for as long as he could manage.

  Doug was chomping at the bit to get back to the team. He’d had to leave them a couple of weeks earlier than planned in May. Jake’s unexpected death had taken him down harder than he’d anticipated, and he had remained at home, appreciating the months spent with his family. James and their cousins, Austin and Bryant, had come home, and the Compass Boys had been together again. He’d needed that time as the four of them tried to get over the pain of losing their beloved mentor and friend.

  Now, the research team was reuniting. Typically, he anticipated leaving to start another season with the same excitement as a twenty-year-old counting down the weeks ’til legal drinking age. But this time…he couldn’t get the tightness in his chest to loosen up.

  There was something different about TJ lately, and it wasn’t a good change.

  “I don’t want to go without you,” Doug admitted. He didn’t say why, didn’t want to admit that he was worried about him. His friend had grown continually quieter with each subsequent year, and now when he felt more ghost than human. He wanted his friend back. With Jake gone, and his brother and cousins all in love and shacking up with their girlfriends and—in Bryant’s case—boyfriend, Doug felt the need to hold on to the only solid, reliable thing he had left.

  TJ.

  TJ gave him a funny look. “You don’t need me there, Doug. You’ve got Rosalia, right?”

  Doug grinned sheepishly. Rosalia Salvatore was the lead scientist on their research team, and Doug was crazy for her. He’d fallen head over ass for the woman the day he’d met her, back when she was a grad student working on her doctorate. She’d earned that degree a year ago and was currently a research scientist with NOAA, which meant nowadays, the storm study wasn’t limited to short-term grant money, but had become a bona fide project without time constraints.

  Sadly, Rosalia didn’t seem to share the same fascination for him.

  Yet.

  While she jokingly referred to him as her work husband, she’d made it perfectly clear she wouldn’t cross the line from colleagues and friends to lovers.

  Bryant had introduced him to Rosalia when she’d mentioned her need for a skilled cameraman who would work for low pay. Rosalia was as personable as she was brilliant, so she’d secured a fairly large grant for her research during college, but most of that cash was used to pay for equipment.

  As a side project, she’d begun sharing some of their storm-chaser videos on YouTube as a way to educate people on tornadoes. The videos went semi-viral, garnering enough views that Doug had convinced her to turn them into a proper show called Lighter than Air, with him serving as videographer and—at Rosalia’s insistence—producer. They’d given the other guys in the research team gag titles as well, and when they scrolled at the end of every show, they always had a good laugh. The humorous ending didn’t impact views, and now Rosalia was making some decent money from the show.

  “I’m not sure I’ve got her. I’m not exactly her type. She’s one of those super brains.”

  TJ tilted his head and looked at him like he was six eggs short of a dozen. “You’re Doug Compton, man. Haven’t seen the girl yet who can resist you.”

  Doug wished that was true, amused that his best friend had so much faith in his abilities to charm the ladies. “Yeah, right. Believe me, I’m not in Rosalia Salvatore’s league. But I’m trying to get there.”

  He thought TJ would laugh at his joke, but he didn’t.

  “Why does this matter so much, Doug? You’ve gone away on these trips alone the last three springs. What’s changed?”

  TJ always saw through him, straight to the core. “My cousins and James are all partnered up, in love. Jake’s gone.” Even now, Doug couldn’t say that without a hitch in his voice. He was only just now getting to the place where he could go almost a whole hour without remembering Jake was dead, then boom, it would sneak back into his mind and sucker punch him. “I just…I’m worried about you, and I’d feel a lot better if you were close to me.”

  Doug was concerned TJ would read more into his comment than he was comfortable with. His thoughts kept slipping back to that day by the window, to the look on TJ’s face, to that almost kiss.

  TJ snorted. “So this invitation is based on your need to protect me? I’m not a chick, bro. I can handle myself. It’s just a black eye. You and I have both had them before.”

  Doug scowled. “It’s not that. Did you ever think I’m fucking struggling and I need my best friend with me right now? These past few months have sucked, but when I’m with you…” Doug hadn’t meant to say any of that. To confess how badly he was still hurting, how much he needed TJ.

  TJ looked at him without replying for a solid minute.

  “I’ll grab my things. Give me fifteen.”

  Doug didn’t bother to hide his smile. Jeez. He was an idiot. He should have known the surest way to secure TJ’s agreement was to make it appear like the need was on the other side. TJ never said no to a friend in trouble.

  “Want any help?”

  TJ shook his head. “Don’t have that much to pack. You g
ot a sleeping bag for me?”

  “Yeah. And we can share my four-man tent. You just need clothes and toiletries. What are you going to tell your dad?”

  TJ glanced down the hall. Thorn was snoring loudly, his mouth hanging open. Then his hand lifted, gingerly touching his black eye. “Not a damn thing.”

  The response was completely out of character, and yet telling. TJ wasn’t just taking this trip for Doug. He’d been right. His best friend was drowning here.

  Doug threw his fist in the air, feeling victorious. “This is going to be one hell of an adventure.”

  TJ didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he just walked away, shaking his head and muttering, “Only Doug Compton could get me to chase goddamn tornadoes.”

  Chapter Two

  Rosalia leaned over the makeshift table set up outside the RV, tapping a few calculations on her laptop. This was her fourth season on the road, traveling all over the country, primarily the Midwest and South, trying to answer that age-old question of what caused tornadoes and how to predict their arrival.

  Her team had broken camp at the end of May, all of them returning home for a few months. She’d returned to Pennsylvania, while Justin and Eric headed back to the apartment they shared just outside Boulder.

  Rex, one of her two cameramen, had been chilling in Palm Springs for the summer with some friends. Then he’d found a new girlfriend—who’d lost her shit when he told her what he did for a living. He insisted on referring to himself as a storm chaser in hopes of impressing the women. That habit had backfired—for Rosalia, at least—when the jerk had emailed her a couple weeks ago to quit at the request of his “true love,” who couldn’t stand to know he was putting himself in danger.

  Knowing Rex, he’d be begging to return come the end of September.

  Doug had been gone longer, returning home earlier after the unexpected death of a man he called his surrogate grandfather. He had talked about Jake countless times, telling so many stories about the man, she felt like she’d known him.