Chase the Storm (6 page)

E
ARLY
evening a little more than a week after I’d arrived, I was loading hay in the huge trailer attached to Chase’s truck for a delivery he was due to make the next day. Owen still hadn’t returned, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they had broken up. Since my first night there, Chase hadn’t mentioned him, and other than the pictures on the mantel, there were no signs of another man living in the house. Yet Chase had called him his partner, not ex-partner.

Sweat traveled down my bare torso as I bent over, stuffed my gloved hands under the twine, lifted, and tossed the bale down onto the trailer. From the loft, I could see the pasture and the beginning of the wheat field. Chase had left onAdmiral about an hour before to check on somethinginthe lower pasture near his propertyline. I’d givenup askingif I could go withhim.

Instead, I enjoyed the alone time and the strong breeze coming in fromthe west. The sun had given way to dark clouds shortly after Chase had left, and I hoped to be done with the hay and have it covered before the rain hit. Grunting, I lifted a bale, braced it on my thigh, and walked it over to the edge of the loft before releasing it onto the pile in the trailer. I had just lifted the next bale when I heard the faint pounding of hooves in the distance. Allbut Admiralwere downstairs intheir stalls.

Squinting, I saw Chase and Admiralbarrelingacross the field at a full gallop. Admiral’s long legs moved in ground-eating strides as Chase leaned forward with his hand high on Admiral’s neck as he encouraged himto go even faster. His hat had blown offand was held on by the string as it whipped in the wind behind him. I admired the way he guided Admiralthroughthe field evenat sucha furious pace.

“Elijah, get the horses out!” he yelled when he was close enough for me to hear. “Get themout no—”

The rest of his words were cut off by a loud clap of thunder that sounded like it was right above the barn. Startled, my eyes were drawn fromhimand Admiral to the dark, ominous clouds in the sky behind him, lit up by bright flashes of lightning. We had thunderstorms in the city, but I’d never witnessed a sky becoming night long before night had fallen. It had come out ofnowhere and was like nothingI’d ever seen.

Panicked, I dropped the bale of hay, and, not wanting to take the time to run the length of the barn to the stairs, I jumped off the loft onto the trailer of hay below. I landed awkwardly and added a few new scrapes to my bruises, but I scrambled out and got into the truck. Starting it, I pulled it out of the way and put it into park, leaving the key in it when I got out. The constant rumblingofthunder and the gales ofwind drowned out Admiral’s approachinghooves. Arrivingat Jet’s stallfirst, I opened his door. Curious, he lifted his head fromhis hay, and I took hold ofhis halter and led him out. Willingly, he followed me as I jogged him to the field. Pulling the gate open, I shoved himthrough and slammed it closed before running back inside for Samson. I wasn’t sure why I was putting them outside in the stormrather than keeping themprotected in the barn, but I did as I was told.

Just as I led Sampson through the gate, Chase arrived, jumping off Admiral before he was at a complete stop. In a second, the saddle was off Admiral and on the ground. The horse pranced anxiously next to Chase as he led him to the gate. He opened it and gracefully slid Admiral’s bridle off in one motion before slapping his flanks. Admiral broke into a gallop and took offinto the field. Just as I was about to enter the barn, I was hit by something. Stunned, I looked up into the sky and saw not rainfalling, but hail.

“
Get moving!
”Chase demanded, runningbyme into the barn.

I followed him, getting Keno from his stall while Chase got Lakota. Wind gusted around us, blowing hay and pelting us with ice. Holding my arm over my eyes so I could see the ground, I led Keno to the field and released him. Chase and I ran back and forth untilallthe horses were out. I went to go to the truck to move it, but Chase seized myarm.

“There’s no time,” he shouted, pointing over my shoulder. I looked behind me and saw it.

The dark clouds were moving in a circular motion, gathering thick and heavy until a defining point unmistakably plummeted toward the ground. At first it was small, more like a string of clouds, but in a heartbeat, it had widened and solidified.

“Oh my God,” I yelled, failing to make myself heard over the howlingwind.

Grabbing my hand, he pulled, dragging me at a run down the aisle of the barn. Sprinting next to him, I matched him stride for stride as we headed to the house. I thought he was going to take me inside, but he led me around the back to a set ofdoors in the ground. Kicking themwith his foot, he loosened the old doors and yanked them open. He shoved me forward and I tripped, catching myselfbefore I felldown the stairs. It was completely black, and I couldn’t see a thing. Blindly, I made my way down a short set of steps to the bottom, and I heard the doors close and Chase’s footsteps following me. Adrenaline flowed through me and I gasped for breath. The sound outside was deafening, and I stood shaking inthe darkness.

“
It’s coming
,”he bellowed over the growingroar. “
Get down!
”

Crouching on the cold dirt, I tucked my knees to my chin. From behind, Chase wrapped his arms protectively around my waist, burying his head between my shoulder and the wall. The buttons of his shirt dug into my back, and his panting breaths warmed the already heated skin of my shoulder. My heart beat as loudly as the thunder outside, and as frightened as I was, all I could think about was the way he felt pressed to me, how strong his arms were, and the soothing motion of his thumb on my side. I was certain he could feel my heart racing, but he probably assumed it was because ofthe weather.

The ground trembled, and I could no longer hear his breaths only a few inches frommy ear. I could only imagine what was going on outside, the damage being done and the devastation left behind. I’d seen tornados on the news, heard people describe their sound and power, but nothing I’d ever seen on television could compare to the deafening roar seemingly only feet fromus. The wooden doors to the shelter shook violently, and I envisioned them being ripped opened and Chase being sucked into the twister. Reaching for his hands, I tightly laced my fingers through his, holdinghimto me as I bowed myhead and squeezed myeyes shut.

Somehow it got louder. The doors rattled and the freight train sound I’d heard about was right over our heads. I thought about my family, how I’d promised my mother I would be safe and return to school. They would never know what happened to me if I died right then; no one even knew where I was.

Chase’s lips were at my ear. “It’s okay, Elijah, it’s going to be okay,” he assured me. It sounded like he was whispering, but I knew he must have beenshoutinginorder for me to hear him.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. The doors fell exhausted against their frame, and the roar began to diminish. Lifting his head frommy shoulder, Chase relaxed his hold on me, but I refused to let go ofhis hands. Sighing, he laid his forehead onmyshoulder.

“It’s over,”he said hoarsely.

 

“Are—are you sure? What if it comes back?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“It won’t. It passed us.” Untangling his fingers from mine, he slowly dragged his hands around untilthey were spanning my sides and lifted me. “C’mon, let’s go see what kind ofdamage it left behind.”

Still trembling, I stood and followed himto the stairs, my eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. Unlocking the doors, he pushed them open, letting in what little daylight there was. The hail had ended, leaving only a light rain in its wake. He climbed out and waited for me at the top. Afraid of what I might see, I kept my eyes downcast, my chest rising and falling quicklywithshallow breaths.

“Damn,” he muttered, taking a few steps away. When I didn’t immediately move, he stopped, his feet turning toward me. “Hey, you okay?”

I nodded, but I reallywasn’t sure. Steppingforward, he came to me, and throughmylashes I saw himraise his hand. He cupped mycheek and forced my chin up. Still refusing to look around to see the barn or house gone, I could onlyfocus onhis concerned eyes.

“Everything’s fine. Just some surface damage. We got off lucky,” he said softly, and I closed my lids before he could see just how scared I’d been. “Help me get the horses inside.”

He let me go, and I numbly followed him around the house and across the driveway to the barn. Daring to look, I saw the damage he spoke of. There were boards and shingles scattered on the driveway, alongwithhayand things I didn’t recognize.

“Whyweren’t there anysirens?”

 

“Theymight have gone off, but we’re prettyfar fromthe nearest one. Careful,”he said, pointingat brokenglass just outside the barnentrance.

When I looked above us, I saw the window in the tack room was completely gone. One of the lawn tractors was tipped on its side, and the one tree in front of the house had been uprooted and lay across the front yard.

“Damnit, I liked that tree,”he sighed.

We walked through the barn and out the other side. His truck and trailer were undamaged, but the hay on the trailer had been destroyed, the bales completelybrokenand blowneverywhere. The horses were already gathered at the gate, a few pacing back and forth while others grazed calmly like nothing had happened. Soundlessly, I helped Chase bring the horses in and put them back in their stalls. Only Jet seemed to have suffered fromthe storm, limping when I walked himinside. I looked down and saw blood tricklingdownone ofhis front legs.

“Chase,”I called, stoppingJet inthe aisle.

Chase walked over, running a hand down Jet’s shoulder before bending and feeling the horse’s leg, speaking to him in a soothing tone whenJet flicked his tailand snorted.

“Looks like it’s just a scrape. Nothing too bad.” Straightening, he continued to talk to Jet as he carefully examined the rest of him, finding a few more nicks along his sides and flanks. “Hold him while I get somethingto cleanhimup with.”

I patted Jet’s face, talking to him until Chase returned carrying a small kit. Kneeling, he opened the box and pulled out gauze, efficiently cleaning the wound and applying ointment before wrapping a bandage around it. Once he was done, Chase stood and took Jet’s halter fromme, guidinghimto his stall.

Walking to the end of the barn, I surveyed the mess of debris everywhere. I jumped when I felt a hand skimming over the flesh of my back, hissing when it stung. I tried to look over my shoulder, but all I saw was his tanned armwiththe sleeve ofhis shirt up.

“You’re cut too,” he sighed, the tips of his fingers traveling along my shoulders and lower, occasionallypressing. Wherever he touched instantly sparked, and I was sure myshiver did not go unnoticed.

“I jumped out ofthe hayloft whenyoutold me to get the horses out,” I explained, tryingto force myattentiononmywords and not his hands. “Youjumped?”

 

“Into the trailer of hay.” I added, “It seemed the quickest way to get down.”

 

“Smart thinking,” he said, taking his hands from my back. “Make sure youwashthose cuts inthe shower.”

 

“Should we cleanup first?”

“It’ll hold until morning. I just wanted to get them back inside,” he replied as he walked toward the house. I followed him, grateful there was stilla house.

“Was it reallyclose?”I asked.

 

“Closest one we’ve had in some time. We’ve been lucky.” He glanced at the sky.

 

“Why did you want the horses outside? Aren’t they safer in the barn?”

“Not if the barn takes a direct hit. Everything becomes a weapon in a tornado. In the field, they have a better chance of outrunning it. The pasture is huge and there are a few low places they can get to,” he explained.

It took us two days to pick up the debris and cut up the fallen tree. He didn’t even seem frustrated when he had to show me how to fix the window, or flustered by the fact he could have lost everything in a matter ofseconds.
Maybe that was because he alreadyhad.

We nailed planks back up, Chase got on the roof and replaced the missing and broken shingles, and I picked up the hay and fixed the fence where it had been broken. The load of hay he’d been due to sell was destroyed, and I had to reload the trailer with new bales. We found things that didn’t belong to Chase that must have been carried there by the tornado. More than once, he repeated how lucky we’d been. The next farmover hadn’t beenso lucky; they’d lost everythingbut a barn.

I
MADE
it through that week and then two more. I woke up every morning, worked my ass off all day, and collapsed exhausted into bed every night. Never could I have imagined having a more satisfying life than the one Chase led. It seemed to be the same thing day after day, but it was suchanachievement to accomplishso muchinone day.

Chase rarely spoke, and when he did, it was usually to bark orders, but he seemed more relaxed. Sometimes we talked at dinner, and he didn’t seem surprised when I’d eventually told him about my family in New York and not Boston. His Sunday ritual continued like clockwork, riding away onAdmiral, dressed like he was going out to dinner and not returning until well after sunset. He never spoke of where he went, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Every night, he cooked supper before going into his office at the end ofthe hall. He was stilla complete mystery, but he wasn’t the only one. Owen still hadn’t shown up. There was never a mentionofhim, and I didn’t dare ask.

I got into the habit of jerking off in the shower nightly. Spending so many hours in Chase’s presence, watching the way he moved, the deepness of his voice, the way he smelled after a day of working, only added to my lust for him. Sometimes, I was so horny I had no choice but to skip dinner, race to the shower and jerk off a couple of times, making sure to wash away any evidence of what I’d done. Usually, I recalled my first lesson, and how he’d felt whenhe stood so close to me.

“Like this?” I’d asked as I stood next to Lakota, trying to put on his bridle.

 

“No, like this,”Chase said.

Pressing his chest to my back, he mirrored my motions and guided the bridle onto Lakota’s head. I could feel heat seeping through our shirts and igniting a fire low in my groin. Keeping me in the circle ofhis arms, he showed me how to do up the curb chain and measure to be sure it was loose enough.