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　Three years prior, still the unfortunate town of Sapulpa.

　It had been a restless night for Beau, the kind where sleep was just an inch out of reach. The rain drummed steadily against the windows, relentless in not helping his case──his mind was unsettled, thoughts circling back to the responsibilities that never seemed to ease up. Nights like these, he found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to shut it all off. These, which only seemed to come more often.

He sighed, turning over in bed, the creak of the old wooden frame familiar in the stillness. His house, not far from the farm itself, was his sanctuary. Simple, quiet. But tonight, even that quiet felt oppressive.

And then came the knocks.

At first, Beau thought he was imagining it. The soft raps at the door seemed out of place amidst the storm, too faint against the steady downpour. Beau has heard thousands of knocks in his lifetime, and he'd say they were a bit like handwriting: told you a lot about the person and the circumstances. These were confident, urgent──whoever they belonged to wanted to not have to knock on any other door that night──but hesitant at the same time. Considerate. Quiet enough that if he hadn't been awake already, he wouldn't have been woken up now either.

He sat up slowly, squinting toward the front door. Another knock followed, slightly louder this time, more insistent. He glanced at the clock──nearly two in the morning. Curiosity and wariness wrestled within him as he swung his legs out of bed, his bare feet meeting the cool floor. He didn't get visitors this late. Not out here. Not in weather like this.

Reluctantly, Beau padded toward the door, a frown creasing his brow. He had to, in a way. During a sleepless night, you do what you must to make the dawn arrive quicker.

When he pulled open the door, the sight that greeted him was about as unexpected as it got.

There, standing drenched and bedraggled on his front porch, was a small group of strangers──four, maybe five──but the man who had, presumably, been doing the knocking stood out immediately. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a mop of wet, wind-swept hair and an unmistakable air of ease even soaked to the bone. The man's grin was wide, irreverent, despite the downpour raging behind him.

"Well, hell, if I knew you dressed like that to answer the door, I'd have come sooner," the man said, his tone light and teasing. He looked Beau up and down with an amused glint in his eye.

Beau blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. He glanced down at himself──worn pajama pants, a plaid flannel, and no socks. Hardly something worth commenting on, but the stranger's boldness caught him off guard.

"That's... a little forward for someone knocking on a stranger's door in the middle of the night," he ended up muttering. He hoped the smidgen of exasperation didn't color his otherwise calm tone too glaringly. With his arms crossed, Beau lifted his eyebrows, waiting.

The man's grin only widened.

"Fair 'nough," he said, offering a slight shrug. "But desperate times call for desperate measures. Tyler, by the way. My crew and I were hopin' to catch a tornado 'round here and, well, let's just say we got a little too close to an actual storm. We need a place to crash. Saw your lights on."

Storm chasers? What has he done to deserve this, exactly?

Beau looked past Tyler to the group standing by the truck. A bunch of tired, wet people talking among themselves, equipment barely stashed in the truck bed. They didn't look like trouble, just like they'd had a rough night. One of them must've noticed the shift of Beau's focus, because they gave him a small, cocky salute.

His first instinct was to slam the door in their faces: who were these people, showing up unannounced in the middle of a storm, soaking wet and half-joking about his choice of sleepwear?

But he couldn't—his nature wouldn't let him. He was the kind of man who believed in helping others, even strangers, especially in situations like this. His mama raised him to be generous, and he wasn't about to turn people away in a storm. Or maybe it was something in Tyler's demeanor that made it hard to say no.

He sighed, stepping back and opening the door wider. "Come on in before you drown out there. You're lucky I'm up."

Tyler gave a grateful nod, gesturing for his friends to follow. They shuffled inside, dripping rainwater onto Beau's hardwood floors, shaking off the chill of outside. Beau closed the door behind them, the warmth of the house enveloping the sodden group. They exchanged quiet nods of thanks as they peeled off their soaked jackets, draping them over chairs in the living room.

"Sorry for the late-night drop-in," Tyler said, rubbing the back of his neck. He still had that self-assured smirk on his face, but there was a touch of genuine apology in his eyes. "Didn't mean to disturb your night."

Beau waved it off, moving to the kitchen.

"You didn't. Wasn't sleepin' much anyway." He grabbed a few towels from a nearby cabinet, tossing them to the group. "Dry yourselves off. I'll get you all something to eat."

It was automatic for him, really. Hospitality came as naturally as breathing. As he moved around the kitchen, heating up some leftover stew and cutting thick slices of bread, he could feel Tyler's eyes on him. Watching, curious.

Stew, bread──tea. Tea could be nice.

"You always this generous to folks you've never met?" Tyler asked, leaning against the counter, his particular towel slung around his neck.

Beau gave a short chuckle. "Depends on the folks."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Lucky for us, then."

A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as Beau set the five──he wasn't hungry──bowls, the warmth of the food cutting through the cold still clinging to the group. Tyler ate heartily, making appreciative noises with every bite, while his crew seemed content just to be out of the rain.

After a while, an older man who had introduced himself as Dexter leaned back in his chair, sipping the tea. He had been looking out the window the entire time, almost cautiously. "So, what do you do out here? That's a lot of land."

The question made everyone look up from their food mid-bite. Was it politeness, was it curiosity, he didn't know. What mattered was the glimmer in their eyes as a collective; seeing it, Beau chuckled softly.

"Raise horses," he replied. "Sell 'em, mostly. Cattle, too. It's not glamorous, but it keeps the lights on."

"Horses, huh?" Tyler's eyes lit up with interest. "You mind showing me later?"

"I thought you were here to sleep?" Beau asked, as a smile stretched the corners of his lips. Still, he agreed. He glanced back at Dexter. "You have your own land?"

The man shook his head. "Used to have a nice house. Land? Never."

"Used to?" Beau repeated, though he cleared his throat seconds later as if to mask the probably intrusive comment.

"Oh," Tyler preened, interrupting his worries effectively. "He doesn't mind──sold it to join us on our adventures. Selfless, really."

Dexter rolled his eyes. "You're making me regret it more and more by the day."

Tyler simply maintained eye contact with Beau, perfectly satisfied with himself. Dexter must say that often.

"Adven──" he started again, and was again interrupted.

"Adventures!" Boone nodded fervently. "We're into twisters."

"All of you?"

"Yeah," they continued upon wiping their lips with the back of their hand. "Tyler's actually got a degree."

Beau hummed, thinking of his sister. "Impressive. And how do y'all make money?"

"We're still figuring that out," Dani chimed in.

Right. The truck did look pretty beat up.

"We're trying to get social-media famous," Lily added.

The grimace on Beau's face was enough to make them all laugh. He took a sip from his mug.

When he turned to him, Tyler was looking at them all with a content expression, one arm folded over the other. "Still, what we primarily chase are the twisters," he said.

"Again, impressive. Not my kinda thing," Beau admitted.

It was strange, how quickly the formality fell away. Tyler and his crew didn't feel like strangers by the time they had eaten their fill, and Beau felt drawn in by their stories despite everything──so different from his own steady, predictable life. It was a window into a world he couldn't quite imagine, no matter how hard he tried.

After everyone had found themselves a couch or air mattress to pass out on, Beau led Tyler outside to the barn where the horses were kept, mud squelching under their boots. The storm had eased up, the rain now a steady drizzle. The wind whispered through the fields, and Beau's breath came in soft puffs of mist as they walked toward the stables.

Beau swung the barn door open, the warm smell of hay and animals greeting them.

"I gotta say," Tyler said, looking around with newfound appreciation, "you've got yourself quite the setup here."

Beau smiled faintly, his hand brushing one of the horses' necks as they entered the barn. "Thanks. It's a great deal of work, taking care of 'em on my own, but I kinda love it."

Tyler whistled low. "I can't imagine everyone's the type who can handle that kinda responsibility."

"Responsibility's never been optional for me," Beau mused, though there was a hint of something heavier in his voice. "Just comes with the territory."

"You're one special guy, then."

Beau laughed. "You're welcome."

"Yeah. I am."

By the time the storm chasers were ready to head out the next morning, Beau had already developed a soft spot for Tyler and his ragtag crew. And as Tyler slung his bag into the back of his truck, he flashed Beau that easy grin again.

"Glad to know you're here if I ever need a place to stay," Tyler had said, a bit of humor in his voice.

Beau turned to him, nodding. "Anytime."

Tyler's grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. "How's... Wednesday, three weeks from now?"

"I'll be waitin'." Beau shook his head, half-amused, half-exasperated.

And that's how it started. Tyler had come back several times over the following months──sometimes with his crew, sometimes alone──whenever he found himself stranded somewhere in the Oklahoma backcountry. He always showed up unannounced, but Beau never minded. It was a strange arrangement, but easy to fall into. Beau never turned the Wranglers (though they didn't always call themselves that) away, time after time offering a meal, a dry place to sleep and, for Ty, a quiet moment in the barn with the horses.

During those visits, they talked, sometimes late into the night. Beau, ever the quiet listener, had found himself sharing more than he expected──stories about his ranch, about his family. He didn't know why he ever mentioned his little sister, but Tyler had a way of drawing things out of people, without even trying. He was a natural at buttering people up, like the time Tyler commented on how "handsome" Beau looked mucking out the stalls, or the way his eyes always managed to find Beau's in the crowd of 5 Wrangler(s) + Farmer. It was playful, but it always left Beau feeling... off-balance. Not in a bad way, but not in a way he knew how to navigate, either. He much preferred how plain sailing Dani or Boone could be.

One time, when it was just them two, Beau asked Tyler to explain tornadoes to him, and the way he looked at him then? Man.

But then, just as suddenly as he'd come into Beau's life, Tyler had disappeared.

No calls, no messages. Not that they'd ever kept in touch like that anyway, but there had been a rhythm to Tyler's visits. Every few weeks, like clockwork. Until, one day, he just... stopped showing up.

At first, Beau didn't think much of it. Life got busy. The winds took Tyler and his crew far afield. But as the months passed with no word, Beau started to worry. He knew he had no right to be upset──Tyler wasn't the kind of man who put down roots, who stayed in one place long enough for anyone to expect anything from him. Still, Beau had gotten used to seeing him around, and the absence felt strange. Hollow, even.

Sometimes, on quiet nights, Beau found himself wondering if something had happened. If one of those storms had taken Tyler out of the sky, leaving nothing but dust in its wake.

Ultimately, there was no way to know, and Beau wasn't the type to go looking for answers.

Everything in life always had to go looking for him.

　Back to the present, for the better or for worse.

　"Been a while, huh?"

Beau tightened his grip on the hammer, the tension knotting in his shoulders. He straightened up, trying to keep his face neutral. "Yeah, it has."

The air between them crackled. Or were those the leaves beneath him as Beau shifted on his feet?

He wasn't sure how to feel──Tyler had disappeared without a word, much like Katie had. And now they were both back, on the same day. What kind of cosmic joke was this?

The intruder shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes scanning the building briefly before meeting Beau's gaze again. He hadn't thought of how Ty had been inside his home, but not this one. Not even once.

"I came to check on Kate," he said. Beau didn't move an inch. "You know, your sister?"

Huh. Beau's jaw clenched. Curious. He set the hammer down.

"She's inside. How'd you even know Katie?"

"A storm chaser knows a storm chaser," he shrugged.

"Of course," Beau decided tersely. After a moment of silence, he added, "She's fine. Doesn't need you checkin' in."

Tyler winced slightly at the remark, but his grin didn't falter. He looked almost sheepish, but Beau knew him well enough to catch the flicker of unease in his eyes. "Didn't realize you were her gatekeeper now," he joked lightly.

Beau shot him a look, his patience fraying. "Someone's gotta be," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Tyler to hear.

Again (again, again, again) Beau wanted to yell at him. Deep down, he didn't want to care this much. He didn't want Tyler to know that he'd even noticed his absence. So, instead, he glanced down at the nails he'd been hammering into the fence post to keep from saying something he might regret.

Tyler shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, man, I didn't mean to—"

The sound of the front door creaking open cut Tyler off. Beau turned just in time to see Cathy step out onto the porch, her expression soft but curious as she eyed the unfamiliar vehicle and the man standing by it.

"Beau, who's──"

"Ma'am." Tyler straightened up, that easy smile back in place as he strode toward the porch, hand extended. "Tyler Owens. I, uh, work with Kate. Just came by to make sure she's alright."

Cathy blinked, taken slightly aback by the sudden introduction but smiled warmly as she shook his hand. "Oh! Well, it's nice to meet you, Tyler. Kate's just inside resting." She glanced over her shoulder toward the house. "Had a bit of a rough time recently."

Tyler's face softened at that, a flicker of genuine concern passing over his features. "Yeah."

Beau watched the exchange, his frustration simmering just below the surface, face hot. He hated how effortlessly Tyler could win over even his mother with that damn charm of his. The woman invited Tyler inside with a single beckon of the hand.

"Come in, come in. Kate'll be happy to see a familiar face."

Beau wanted to object, wanted to say something to stop this from happening, but the words stuck in his throat.

The man stopped at the porch, turning slightly to glance back at Beau, his face unreadable. "You coming?"

Beau shook his head. "I'll be there in a minute."

With a nod, Tyler disappeared inside, and Beau let out a long, shaky breath, leaning heavily on the fence post. The anger and confusion swirled inside him, but there was something else too, something harder to define. Something that made him feel like everything was teetering on the edge.

He didn't have time to untangle those thoughts now. Not with Tyler here, and certainly not with Katie back.

Inhaling deeply, Beau pushed himself away from the fence and started toward the house. Whatever this was, whatever Tyler really wanted, it wasn't going to go away just by avoiding it. And Katie... she needed him. So he'd deal with Tyler the way he always did: by pushing it down and focusing on what mattered.

But as he reached the porch, hearing Tyler's voice inside mingling with his mother's soft laughter, Beau couldn't help but feel that maybe──just maybe──some things couldn't stay buried forever.

The door shut with a click, and he paused stiffly a few feet from Tyler.

Tyler quickly settled beside Katie, speaking in low tones, telling her how he'd heard about Javi, about how he just wanted to make sure she was alright. Beau lingered by the door, watching the exchange unfold.

Finally, Cathy blinked, eyes flickering between the two men. She could most likely sense something was off but didn't understand it, not fully. "You boys know each other?"

"No," Beau said quickly, his voice curt.

Tyler shot him a glance but didn't push it.

"Nope," he agreed, though there was something in that one word that made Beau want him out of the house. Was it the way Ty had sounded like he was doing Beau some sort of favor or was it just his face?

Didn't matter. His fists stayed clenched.

　Much like the storm clouds that so often loomed over Sapulpa in the summer, something hung over the dinner table. Beau sat quietly in his usual chair—the one opposite his mother, his back to the door— barely touching the food Cathy had so lovingly prepared. Tonight, it might as well have been sawdust. Next to him sat Katie, and across from her Tyler.

Tyler.

Every time he spoke, that smooth voice grating on Beau's nerves, Beau found his grip on the fork tightening just a little more.

"So, Tyler," Cathy began, smiling warmly as she passed a basket of bread down the table. She had already offered for Tyler to stay the night, to have breakfast with them as well, as if he wasn't entirely unwelcome. "How long have you been doin' this storm chasing thing for?"

The man leaned back in his chair, seemingly at ease despite the palpable discomfort in the room.

"Yeah, it's been about six years now, I reckon. Started out small, you know, just tagging along with more experienced chasers. But I got hooked pretty quickly." He shot a quick, playful glance at Katie, who smiled back, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's ridiculously easy to."

"Six years! Goodness, I don't think I could ever do something like that. Ain't it terrifying?"

Tyler grinned, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. "It can be. But there's something about being out there, right in the middle of it, watching Mother Nature unleash all her power. Freeing, in a way. You can't control it, but you can dance around it."

Beau's jaw tightened.

Freeing?

That's what Tyler called barreling toward destruction?

A cool weight settled in his chest, each word out of Tyler's mouth feeling (maybe unreasonably so) like a little jab at the careful life Beau had constructed.

"Reckless is what it is," Beau muttered quietly, not even looking up from his plate.

Every word would be heard in a crowd of just four people, of course.

Tyler blinked, turning his head toward Beau. "What was that?"

He shrugged before continuing. He wouldn't've if it wasn't for how Tyler's lips parted slightly back when he spoke. He set his fork down with a sharp click against the plate, gaze locked on Tyler. "I just think chasing storms isn't some thrill ride. You don't seem to treat it with half as much consideration as seems necessary."

"I know what I'm doing, man," Tyler replied, his voice with an edge to it now.

Beau scoffed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Yeah? And what about the people you drag along with you? You ever think about what happens if you screw up?"

Tyler's eyes narrowed. "We don't screw up."

Beau risked a glance at his sister—their eyes met and she shook her head lightly—and he huffed. "People get hurt, killed, because of that 'freedom' you're talking about."

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft clink of silverware as Cathy paused mid-bite, glancing between the two men. Katie frowned, looking away, but Tyler didn't seem very upset himself. He only smirked at Beau in response and it was infuriating. It was as if he was trying to put on a show. But for who?

"I'm not some idiot playing with fire," he said. "I've been doing this long enough to know the risks."

Beau's lips pressed into a thin line. The feeling was familiar; whenever Tyler talked like this, pretending he was invincible, pretending there wasn't such a thing as consequences, pretending nothing could touch him—not even the things he chose to dive headfirst into himself.

He didn't know why it bothered him so much, but it did.

Cathy, sensing the shift, interjected gently. "I'm sure you're careful, Tyler. It's just... well, as a mother, I imagine it must be hard on your family, knowing the dangers you face."

"I get that, ma'am." Tyler's eyes softened as he turned to Beau's mother, nodding. "And I've lost friends out there. It's no joke. But it is what I love doing."

Cathy nodded thoughtfully, but Beau wasn't satisfied. He rubbed his face with a hand.

Katie shifted uncomfortably beside him. "Beau. Can we not do this right now?"

Her words were like a pinprick to the tension, deflating it slightly, but not enough to make it disappear entirely. Beau swallowed hard, looking down at his plate.

But, this one time, it had nothing to do with her. He trusted her more than he trusted Owens. She had no way of knowing but, this one time, it really, really wasn't about her.

Beau's chest tightened, his fork clinking against the plate as he dropped it. "You keep talking about how close you get, like it's something to be proud of. But what happens when you get too close, Tyler? Can you never have enough?"

Tyler's face hardened, the charm fading. "I don't need a lecture. And don't look at me like I'm some idiot who needs fixing."

Beau's stomach twisted. That word—fixing—hit something raw. Tyler knew exactly where to poke.

Well, no. Tyler didn't know, and that was what was so upsetting.

"It's not about fixing anything," Beau said, voice low. "It's about being smart."

Tyler leaned back in his chair again, crossing his arms. "Look, I get it. You've always been the careful one, the responsible one. But that's not me. I'm not gonna change who I am just to make you feel better. I chase storms. That's what I do."

Their mother, ever the peacemaker, attempted to steer them away from the disaster ahead.

"You're not wrong, Tyler, you know?" She said with a soft laugh, clueless but maybe not. "Beau was always the one looking out for Katie, even when they were little. Wouldn't let her out of his sight, not for a second."

Tyler glanced at Beau, something unreadable twinkling in his eye. "Yeah... I can see that."

Cathy smiled. "I remember one time, Katie got it in her head to climb the big oak tree out back. Must've been no more than six. Beau found her halfway up and practically dragged her down, scolding her the whole time. 'Mom woulda killed me if you fell,' he'd say. It was the sweetest thing."

Katie smiled weakly at the memory, but Beau couldn't look at her. His throat felt tight, and the room was suddenly too warm.

Tyler's gaze lingered on Beau for a moment longer before he turned back to Cathy, his smile returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, it's good to know someone's always been looking out for her."

Beau pushed back from the table, unable to take any more. "I'm gonna show Tyler to the guest bedroom," he muttered, standing up abruptly. Cathy opened her mouth to protest, but she closed it quickly, sensing her son's mood.

"Sure, sweetheart," she said instead. "It's getting late anyway."

Tyler glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, studying him, but didn't say anything as Beau led the way toward. The hallway felt narrow and suffocating as they walked in silence.

When they reached the room, Beau opened the door, standing stiffly at the entrance. "There."

"Thanks."

Beau turned on his feet, and after a moment, Tyler did the same—but only to watch him.

"What?" Beau asked.

"Nothin'. You goin' home?"

"Yes." He barely held in the 'duh'.

Tyler inhaled shakily.

"You know," he whispered. "I'd rather sleep there."

Despite himself, Beau chuckled. He didn't pay Tyler any mind as he walked down the stairs and out the door. He only stopped at the sudden beep cutting through the quiet—his phone.

A severe storm warning.

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