The Daring Storm Chaser - Page 13

“Jori! Where are you?” A knot of panic forms in my throat, strangling the words.

She steps out from behind an overturned vehicle. “Stop shouting. You’re causing a scene.”

I run to her, swooping her into my arms. “You scared me! Why did you leave the station?”

“I just needed some fresh air,” she says, pushing me away.

It’s obvious that she’s trying to put distance between us, but I can’t make myself let go. I bury my face in her hair. “My sweet, sweet Jori.”

“Stop calling me that,” she snaps. “No one calls me that.”

The anger in her voice is unmistakable. I stumble backward. “What’s wrong?”

“Why are you acting like you’re my boyfriend? A minute ago, you were busy telling Colby how you and I would never be together.”

“He was threatening me, for one thing. And for another—” I hesitate, running a hand through my hair. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in something serious with a fuckup like me.”

She punches me in the arm, really putting her weight into it.

“Ouch!” I protest.

“A fuckup? A fuckup?!” Her voice quivers with anger. “You are a hero, Oz Metzer. You saved so many people today. How can you call yourself a fuckup?”

“I didn’t really do anything.”

She punches me again.

“Stop hitting me,” I complain.

“Then stop being a dumbass.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I dare you.”

“A dare, you say?” I pull her into my arms and lower my face to hers. Nuzzling her nose with mine, I whisper, “I love you, Jori.”

Her lips tilt into a smile. “And I love you, my daring storm chaser.”

Epilogue

Oz

Three years later

My eleven-month-old son squirms in my arms. He’s fiercely independent like his mama, and he doesn’t take kindly to being restricted when he wants to roam free.

“Sorry, kiddo,” I say with a laugh. “I can’t let you run free through Main Street in the middle of a parade.”

I spot Colby maneuvering through the crowd with Petra at his heels. He’s holding two beers, and I gratefully accept the one he hands to me. The high school marching band marches past, playing their school song. My little boy claps with glee.

“Let me have a turn holding the rugrat,” Colby says, reaching for his nephew. I grin at him, thankful to have him back in my life. It didn’t take long to win back his friendship. Once he saw how protective I am of his sister, he knew my daredevil days were over. I hand him my squirming son and he lifts him onto his shoulders.

Petra leans toward me so I can hear her over the noise. “Is Marjorie nervous?” she yells.

“A little, but she’s been ready for this her whole life.”

Colby nods. “She’s going to be an amazing mayor.”

“The best,” I agree.

And when Marjorie passes by on the mayor’s float, waving to her new constituents, I’m filled with so much pride that I could burst.

“I love you, Jori!” I scream up to her. I doubt she can hear me over the crowd, but her brother does, and our son does. And somehow, that matters, too. We’re the three men in her life, standing as a united front to cheer her on.

And from atop her float, Mayor Marjorie Metzer, my beautiful wife, blows me a kiss.