But she felt her eyes getting heavy. They had the same type of bed, but for some reason, his was much more comfortable. Maybe it was his scent on the sheets, she mused. He always smelled really good.
“Yes, but then I can’t keep an eye on you.”
“What are you going to be doing while I rest ?” She blinked twice, but the room stayed fuzzy. What were those pills for?
“Editing pictures.”
Tory sniffed. “I have work I could be doing, too. I have two articles to write. The website needs updating, and I need to start organizing our annual fundraiser.” Her words were slurred and her hands felt like slabs of meat.
“ Go to sleep.”
“What the hell did you give me anyway?”
“Sleeping pill.”
“Bastard,” s he muttered before she slipped into darkness.
Sirens were screaming. The sky was a murky, cantankerous green that reminded her of her Mommy’s eyes. Aside from the intrusive shrill of the siren, it was calm outside. The leaves on the trees did n’t move— the blade s of grass didn’t dance. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up.
Tory sat on her blanket and watched the sky. Cheese sandwiches were spread out around the blanket for five imaginary guests—and Barbie— who were also watching the clouds .
Her d addy was in his shop across the driveway. Tory could see him and she smiled.
“There’s Daddy,” s he told Barbie , then turned around to watch mother run out of the house and toward her. Toward death.
Her mother was shouting , but Tory couldn’t hear the words . The sirens were too loud , she mused, all though she never heard her mother’s voice anymore. Tory turned back to the field and watched the tornado with wonder.
Her father was first. He ran out of the shed and yelled at Tory and her mother with no voice . B efore Tory could help him, he was gone. She saw her mother’s face and began to cry.
Her mother ran toward the tornado. Why did she run? Tory asked herself later. Her husband was gone. Tornados don’t give back things they take. Not alive, anyway.
Tory stood up. She had to go to her mother. Tears streaming down her face, Barbie in one han d, Tory started across the yard, stopping short when her mother vanished too .
She cried out, calling for them. The tornado kept spinning toward the fields on the other side of the house . Tory tried to chase it. If it would take her too, she coul d be with her Mommy and Daddy—b ut it was faster.
So much faster.
She stopped running when the t ornado went back up into the sky. It was eer ie again.
Calm, quiet, and over.
Tory sat up straight in bed and sucked in a painful breath. She wanted to scream and cry , but even that wasn’t possible.
Gabe was sitting on the bed beside her. He took her ice cold hands in his.
“It’s okay, Tory. It was just a dream.”
“No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t a dream.” It was a memory. She shook her head and fought for calm. Gabe handed her a cup of something. She didn’t care what it was. She sucked it down greedily.
Coffee, she realized , even though she could hardly taste it. The smell helped bring her out of her panic. She sat on the bed staring at their joined hands. His long, dark fingers tangled with her slim, pale ones.
“Thank you,” s he managed after a moment. “How long did I sleep?”
“About twelve hours.”
She nodded alth ough she hated to lose so much time. She supposed she had needed it. Her muscles were lax and loose, the scrapes barely bothered her. She glanced at Gabe and noticed with a frown that he was still dressed in the clothes he wore on the chase.
“You haven’t been to bed?”
“No.”
“You didn’t have to stay up because of me.”
He snorted and flipped a light on. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a sack, arranged food on a plate , and popped it in the microwave.
“Are you feeling okay?” h e asked her as he topped off her coffee. “Nauseou s, dizzy?”
“No, I’m f ine.” She lay back against the
“Yes, but then I can’t keep an eye on you.”
“What are you going to be doing while I rest ?” She blinked twice, but the room stayed fuzzy. What were those pills for?
“Editing pictures.”
Tory sniffed. “I have work I could be doing, too. I have two articles to write. The website needs updating, and I need to start organizing our annual fundraiser.” Her words were slurred and her hands felt like slabs of meat.
“ Go to sleep.”
“What the hell did you give me anyway?”
“Sleeping pill.”
“Bastard,” s he muttered before she slipped into darkness.
Sirens were screaming. The sky was a murky, cantankerous green that reminded her of her Mommy’s eyes. Aside from the intrusive shrill of the siren, it was calm outside. The leaves on the trees did n’t move— the blade s of grass didn’t dance. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up.
Tory sat on her blanket and watched the sky. Cheese sandwiches were spread out around the blanket for five imaginary guests—and Barbie— who were also watching the clouds .
Her d addy was in his shop across the driveway. Tory could see him and she smiled.
“There’s Daddy,” s he told Barbie , then turned around to watch mother run out of the house and toward her. Toward death.
Her mother was shouting , but Tory couldn’t hear the words . The sirens were too loud , she mused, all though she never heard her mother’s voice anymore. Tory turned back to the field and watched the tornado with wonder.
Her father was first. He ran out of the shed and yelled at Tory and her mother with no voice . B efore Tory could help him, he was gone. She saw her mother’s face and began to cry.
Her mother ran toward the tornado. Why did she run? Tory asked herself later. Her husband was gone. Tornados don’t give back things they take. Not alive, anyway.
Tory stood up. She had to go to her mother. Tears streaming down her face, Barbie in one han d, Tory started across the yard, stopping short when her mother vanished too .
She cried out, calling for them. The tornado kept spinning toward the fields on the other side of the house . Tory tried to chase it. If it would take her too, she coul d be with her Mommy and Daddy—b ut it was faster.
So much faster.
She stopped running when the t ornado went back up into the sky. It was eer ie again.
Calm, quiet, and over.
Tory sat up straight in bed and sucked in a painful breath. She wanted to scream and cry , but even that wasn’t possible.
Gabe was sitting on the bed beside her. He took her ice cold hands in his.
“It’s okay, Tory. It was just a dream.”
“No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t a dream.” It was a memory. She shook her head and fought for calm. Gabe handed her a cup of something. She didn’t care what it was. She sucked it down greedily.
Coffee, she realized , even though she could hardly taste it. The smell helped bring her out of her panic. She sat on the bed staring at their joined hands. His long, dark fingers tangled with her slim, pale ones.
“Thank you,” s he managed after a moment. “How long did I sleep?”
“About twelve hours.”
She nodded alth ough she hated to lose so much time. She supposed she had needed it. Her muscles were lax and loose, the scrapes barely bothered her. She glanced at Gabe and noticed with a frown that he was still dressed in the clothes he wore on the chase.
“You haven’t been to bed?”
“No.”
“You didn’t have to stay up because of me.”
He snorted and flipped a light on. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a sack, arranged food on a plate , and popped it in the microwave.
“Are you feeling okay?” h e asked her as he topped off her coffee. “Nauseou s, dizzy?”
“No, I’m f ine.” She lay back against the
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