Page 108 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)

GOING STRAIGHT TO THE POINT

Beckett

I got a call from Principal Rivera early in the morning, asking me to come to school to pick up Lucia’s stuff. Old Well is generous enough to give me the day off as soon as I call him, and I promise to bring him sweet treats from the city tomorrow.

As far as I know, Nathaniel is spending a few weeks in Madrid to visit his grandmother. From what Cassandra tells me, her brother and the old lady were always quite close, and she isn’t getting any better.

With Nathaniel gone, Cassandra is alone at the house with her father.

He gives her a free pass to come and go as she pleases, as long as she isn’t missing any school.

It’s why we’ve been seeing each other more often, and half of me hopes Nathaniel never comes back.

The girl flourishes when she isn’t around her family.

While Cassandra spends the night at Kayla’s once and Angelina’s twice, most days, she stays home.

And by home, I mean my house.

My room.

My bed.

Us acting like roommates is becoming kind of a thing.

“Mn.” She groans, burying her upturned nose into my pillow. I kneel on the mattress, brushing her hair away from her face. Her upper lip is all swollen from too much sleep. “Five more minutes.”

“You have school at one thirty, don’t you?” I ask just to be sure, lowering my upper body to press a kiss to her mouth. Cassandra cracks one eye open. “No classes in the morning?”

“Not on Tuesdays.” She sighs, stretching her arms above her head. Her lips part then, forming a deep yawn.

I smile.

She’s so goddamn cute.

“It’s only seven-thirty.” I lay back down, forcing her to scoot over. “You can sleep a little more if you want.”

Cassandra opens her eyes and pulls me into her arms. She’s always clingy after she wakes up and right before she falls asleep. I let her keep me close, feel her press a kiss to my cheek, then another to my chin.

“Good morning, baby.”

Her voice is raw, still tangled in sleep. She hesitates for a second before kissing the corner of my mouth shyly. Her cheeks redden.

“You’re blushing.” I press my thumb to her warm skin. “Are you embarrassed?”

“I feel like a third grader.”

I don’t point out that we’ve kissed more than once. But it’s true that it doesn’t feel the same anymore. That was about comfort and connection.But this? This is something else.Something entirely different and new.

Cassandra sighs when I suck her skin, closing her eyes again. She pulls me on top of her, and I press my nose to her neck, inhaling the mingled scent of her and me.

She’s so sensitive.

“Am I crushing you?” I ask, biting lightly. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to get her to blush again. “Tell me if I am.”

“I like your weight on me,” her confession comes out quiet. “It feels good. You’re very strong.”

“You’re very warm.” I brush my fingers against her stomach, lifting her oversized Anakin Skywalker t-shirt until her ribs show. “And ticklish.”

“I’m not—”

Cassandra’s laughter rings in my ears, the sound going straight to my heart. It’s bright and infectious, and I press my face against her cheek, grinning so hard that my eyes squeeze shut.

“Stop!”

I immediately do, flattening my hands against her skin. One rests on her waist, the other on her hip. She wraps her arms around me, surrounding my shoulders and neck.

“You have the prettiest eyes,” I say. She blinks a few times, listening to me attentively. “I’ve always thought so.”

“Even when we were kids?”

I nod, remembering little bits of our younger selves.

Everything feels so fuzzy. Cassandra and I were never close friends by any means, but she was my neighbor. Le Port is a very small place to live in; every kid somehow knows each other, goes to the same schools, and attends the same parties.

“But you were very tiny and whiny, no offense.”

“None taken. I still am.” She snorts, pushing me to get me to roll onto my side. I go down without any reluctance. “I thought you were so cool with your Justin Bieber hair.”

“Worst time of my life!” I pout. “Lucia said I looked like Toad!”

Cassandra bites her lower lip, fighting back another yawn. “Really? She didn’t like it?”

“I think she hated that my hair looked better than hers.” I shrug, closing my eyes shut. “Do you want to sleep a little more?”

“I’m already sleeping, my Becky.” She stirs, adjusting the covers around her body and curving herself against me. “See how my eyes are closed?”

I shake my head at her silly tone, letting exhaustion pull me under with her.

***

Mr. Rivera still thinks there’s a world where he and I are good friends. He doesn’t know that, for all I care, he and his wife can go straight to hell and never come back.

I can’t believe they let that man anywhere near Cassandra.

Nathaniel is a worthless excuse for a human being, and I won’t let this go down quietly. But for now, I have to respect Cassandra’s wishes and not call the police, at least not yet.

It’s a slippery slope, especially in Le Port, where her family holds power. They might not be the richest, but they are well- liked. I won’t put her at a disadvantage just because I spoke out of turn. It might be my fight to pick, but it is not my story to tell.

“I hope you know that Sainte Madeleine cares about you in these difficult times.” He slides a box across the table.

Inside are Lucia’s academic files, her graduation photos, and remnants of her life stuffed into a cardboard coffin.

“Lucia was a beloved member of our community. Her absence is felt wholeheartedly here.”

I don’t bother responding to the empty sentiment with anything else but a question. “Have you checked your bathroom stalls?”

He frowns. “No?”

A sarcastic smile rises, making the corner of my lips twitch. “Thought so.”

Instead of giving him more context, I pay closer attention to Lucia’s stuff.

My touch lingers when I find one of her pictures.She’s staring at the camera, looking every bit like the little girl I used to know. Her hair is brushed back, the front pieces kept together by a yellow headband.

I try to recall whether I found it lying around her room, lost between her stuff, or not. My sister loved that headband. The last time I saw her wearing it was before the accident. I don’t remember bringing it home with me, either.

Maybe it got lost.

“If you ever need anything, we’re here,” Principal Rivera adds, smiling pathetically.

“Well.” I close the box, my gaze lifting to meet his. “I do have something to ask.”

Rivera’s face shifts, wary yet composed.

He is an old man, though he fights it. There are lines of worry etched into his forehead, shadows of sleepless nights bruising his eyes, and the corners of his mouth are dry.

The gold crucifix around his neck gleams under the office lights, his fingers smoothing over it obsessively. Once, I believed he touched it out of pride. Now, I wonder if it’s guilt. If religion to him is not devotion but a compulsion, in the same way I consume my own anxiety.

“What is it, son?” he asks, leaning in, pressing his elbows against the dark, shiny wood.

I lean closer too, my voice steady, unyielding.

“I know what happens inside your house.”

Her silence might make others think otherwise, but Cassandra isn’t made out of steel. She has soft bones and softer muscles, warmth filtered through scar tissue.

Healing isn’t her superpower, and her resilience isn’t her greatest strength.

It’s what she had to do to survive, and I won’t be the person to spin this around looking for some kind of validation that life never gives you more than you can take.

Not when she is in pain, trying to make it through the day without thinking of every hurtful comment, every malicious glance thrown her way.

She needs someone who is willing to fight for her when she isn’t looking. And that person is going to be me.

Mr. Rivera frowns. “What are you—”

“I might not go to church every Sunday or even play nice with the mayor, but I sure have my own connections.” I say, letting him know that this isn’t a misunderstanding. “You will lose everything if I ever see Cassandra hurt again, if Nathaniel lays another finger on her.”

His shoulders tense.

“Nathaniel?” he scoffs, trying to play it cool. “You think Nathaniel hurt her?”

“I think Nathaniel is a monster,” my voice doesn’t rise, but my words are strong enough to cut through the tension like a blade. “I think you have a problem. I think your son is more than you bargained for. Am I stuttering now?”

I remember how three years ago, he’d hold me back after class, force me to rehearse every speech I gave in public until I started to feel too nervous to speak in public again. I never got to go on stage at my own graduation because I was too busy throwing up in a dirty bathroom.

And to think he actually liked me back then.

Actually, now that I know more about his family, I think there’s a reason why Principal Rivera took a special liking to me all these years ago, instead of caring about the boy he had at home. Nathaniel was too broken for him to fix, but I wasn’t.

“I don’t care how you do it. Send him back to Spain, lock him up, put him in a box and throw away the keys.

As long as it’s done. Keep him away from her, or I’ll make you lose your job, your house, and your reputation.

” I tilt my head, watching his face harden, picturing me actually going through with my threats.

“I will knock on every door until someone finally listens to what I have to say about you, about your wife, and the things you’ve done together. ”

Rivera watches me, then exhales through his nose. “Is this why she sneaks out at night? Because she’s your friend ?”

“You know she comes to my place,” I point out.

“I know that you’re sleeping with my daughter, yes,” he says it like it’s a checkmate.

It dawns on me then what he’s implying, and just the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach.

I snort loudly, unimpressed. “Oh, don’t even go there, you sick son of a bitch.”