Tornadogenesis | Tyler Owens x OC

- F I V E -

Dana gazed at the flowers. A beautiful spring arrangement, filled with pinks, yellows, reds, purples, and blues. A small "get well soon" balloon stuck in the center. It shouldn't have made her heart flutter the way it did.

She put the card down. Now wasn't the time to think about it. She should be thinking about what on earth she was going to do.

Just thinking about returning to whatever was left of her apartment made her sick. She wasn't going to call her parents. Things weren't great between her and them after their move to California.

Dana considered her best friend, but thought against it knowing that she didn't have any room in her small home, especially with a new baby.

A nurse let her know that her discharge papers were ready to be signed. Dana slowly got out of the hospital bed. She was able to walk on her own now, though carefully.

Taking the flower vase, which was quite possibly her only personal item left, she walked to the nurse's station.

After signing everything, a nurse asked her, "Do you have a ride or is someone coming to pick you up?"

Dana swallowed hard. She'd been so caught up with where she was going to go that she didn't stop to consider who was going to get her there.
She could call a taxi or an Uber. But with no purse, wallet, or phone, she was stranded.

She looked at the flowers and remembered the card tucked into her pocket. She wanted to force the idea away. But did she have a choice?

"Was there any delivery note left with this? Any phone number?"

The nurse was confused at the question, but stood from her chair. "I can check."

Dana waited a few minutes before the nurse returned. "This was left with the delivery." She passed a packing slip.

It had Tyler's name and phone number on the top.

"Thank you." Flower vase in one hand and the packing slip in the other, Dana walked down the hall to a guest telephone. She reminded herself that this was her only option.

Dialing the number, Dana hoped he would answer. She didn't have a plan B if he didn't.

It rang several times. Most likely he saw a call from a strange number and thought nothing of it. Dana groaned and was about to return the phone when the ringing stopped and she heard a familiar voice on the other side.

"Hello?"

Relief swept over her. "Hi, Tyler? This is Dana Pierce. You had flowers sent over to me this morning." As if he could've forgotten who she was.

"Don't tell me you're allergic."

She stifled a chuckle. "No. They're gorgeous, thank you." She could hear a relived sigh.

"What's up? I hope you're feeling better."

Physically? Sure. Emotionally? Questionable. "I am. Actually, that's kind of why I called you." Dana swallowed the embarrassment that threatened to choke her. "I just got discharged from the hospital and could use a ride. I was wondering if—"

"I can be there in twenty."

Taken aback, Dana wasn't sure what to say next. "Oh, uh, great. Thank you so much. I'll see you soon, then."

"See you soon."

She hung up the phone and leaned against the wall. Securing a ride was one thing, figuring out a destination was another.

Dana returned to the nurse's station to retrieve prescription information and notify of her arrangements. She rode the elevator to the first floor and sat in the seating area just beside the entrance. Placing the flower vase on the coffee table, she leaned back and gazed through the large glass windows. Plenty of natural light poured in, warming her face. After lying in a stuffy hospital room for a couple days, she was relieved to be free.

Entering into the hospital parking lot was a heavily modified red Ram 3500 dually. That must've been the red truck she remembered. It wasn't like any anything she'd ever seen before. It stood out like in the parking lot like a sore thumb.

Tyler approached the entrance. Dark blue plaid replaced the red. Same jeans and belt buckle. He donned sunglasses instead of a hat.

Dana stood, retrieved the vase, and met him at the doors.

"You all set?" He volunteered to carry the vase for her, to which she politely declined.

She followed him to the truck. As she stepped outside, her eyes squinted in the direct sunlight. Her hand shielded her eyes.

Noticing, Tyler removed her sunglasses and held them out to her. "Here. They'll help."

Dana hesitated, but took the glasses regardless. They did help with the sensitivity. "The doctor said I'll still be sensitive to light for at least a week at this rate."

"You can have them. I've got another pair." He grinned at the sight of her wearing his sunglasses.

First flowers, now sunglasses. Dana didn't want him to give her anything more. He'd already done enough for her. "Thank you, but I have my own in my apartment."

At that, she noticed his expression soften. He looked troubled, but she didn't bother to mention it.

He opened the passenger door. She attempted to climb into it, but a sharp pain sent her back to the asphalt. Dana gasped and clutched the side of her chest with her free hand.

Tyler looked ready to catch her as he instinctively stood beside, holding one hand to her back. "Are you okay? Should I go get—"

"It's fine," she said between gritted teeth. "I should've known better." Dana stepped away from his touch and leaned against the side of the truck. "It'll take some time to heal."

"Are you sure it's fine?"

She nodded then looked back at the passenger seat like it was Mt. Everest.

"How about I help you in?" Tyler took the vase from her and leaned into the truck to temporarily lean it against the driver's seat.

Dana didn't like the idea, but again, she never had many choices. She stood in front of the open door.

"Put your arm around my shoulders and I'll lift you."

She held her breath and did as he suggested. Dana braced her arm around his shoulders. Tyler placed one arm around her back, supporting her middle, and the other underneath her legs. He hauled her effortlessly onto the seat. As she settled in, she hoped to settle her fluttering stomach. She returned the flower vase to her lap as he shut the passenger door.

Dana watched as he walked around to the driver's side.