Page 25 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)

SHE'S GOT CHERRY LIPS, ANGEL EYES

Cassandra

I glance at my phone that’s over the counter, weighing in my options one last time. Kayla is on speaker, trying to get me to stop freaking out. Who would I be without my best friend?

To do, or not to do.

That is the question.

“Texting really does feel too impersonal. Overrated, really. And we’re friends, right?” I wonder, speaking out loud. “I should be able to knock on his door and ask for sugar or something. Jesus, I’m, like, dog-sitting for him. I’m literally doing him a favor. I’m not just trying to be nosy.”

“Right. Cassandra, just knock on his door, for real.” The piano song that’s playing in the background comes to a halt. “Shit, Maude keeps forgetting to fix her sickled feet.”

“You’re right, I just have to knock.” I slip on my sandals and try not to sprint on my way to Beckett’s place. We’re next-door neighbors, but I still have to walk through my garden and his to reach the front door. “Thanks for picking up the call.”

“Don’t mention it,” she whisper-yells, and I can imagine her perfectly curved eyebrows forming the biggest frown ever as she watches her teammates struggle through the routine. “Will you call me tonight to tell me what happened?”

“Of course!” I bob my head. “I’m telling you everything .”

“Don’t let Nathaniel get in your head.”

“I’m not.”

“Seriously, what the fuck is his issue?” Kayla groans. “And that thing about kindergarten, who even cares?”

I smile and agree, “Right? I don’t even remember what that was about.”

“Me either. We have to ask Mom about it.” She pauses. “Listen, I really have to go now. But have fun, okay? You’re good with dogs, and Pepé already loves you.”

“I know.” I inhale deeply, trusting Kayla to know best. She wouldn’t lie to me about this, because my best friend understands just how much I care. “I’m just nervous.”

“I know you are, but you can do this,” she coughs a little. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you, bye.”

“Love you too.”

I reach Beckett’s house a few minutes after, and carefully ring the bell twice, which is the very polite thing to do in case he missed the first one. Pepé‘s excited barking erupts from inside. It calms me down a little to see how happy he is.

“It’ll be okay.” I check my reflection one last time on my phone screen. “You’ll be fine.”

My hair is still a bit damp from my post-class shower, but my short blue floral dress—the cutest one I own—makes up for it. I remember buying it from a vintage store in town, and the lady working at the front promised it was one of a kind.

I don’t think she was telling me the truth, but I don’t mind wearing things that are secondhand or common. As long as the outfit is cute, I’m pretty confident I can make it work.

“You’re fine. Breathe. You’re okay.”

The door opens, and my smile falters.

“Mr. Evans?”

“Dad, I said I could get the—” Beckett appears behind his father, shirtless, aggressively drying his hair with a towel. He tosses the tower over his left shoulder, pulling the door wide open, and says, “I could get the door.”

“Good afternoon, sir,” I clear my throat. “And hi, Beckett.”

“Cassa—”

“And who are you again?”

Mr. Evans interrupts, clearly not remembering who I am. I’m not surprised; I don’t think he ever paid much attention to me before. Beckett frowns at his dad, annoyed by the interruption.

“How do you not know her?”

Seeing them side by side, it’s like watching a time machine at work. Gregory Evans totally looks like an older, sharper version of his son. They have the same blue eyes and the same caramel blond hair. Their features are strikingly similar too: sharp around the edges and perfect to a fault.

Altogether, he is the kind of man who looks like he knows exactly how intimidating he is. I think that’s the reason why Nathaniel doesn’t like the Evans very much. They have a natural air of superiority to them, something that can’t be easily replicated.

“It’s okay, Becky. I don’t mind it,” I answer with a forced smile, placing my hands behind my back and pinching my skin, trying to keep myself from blushing. “I’m Cassandra Rivera. I live next door.”

“Ah, yes,” Gregory smiles, the corner of his eyes softening. “I remember you! Cassie, right? Little Cass.”

Kill me.

Kill me now.

Beckett’s grip tightens on the towel as he clears his throat. His father’s head snaps to look at him. I don’t think they get along very much. This feels awkward.

“I’ve got it from here, Dad,” Beckett says with a stern face, and his voice is firm enough to get his father to back off.

“Got it,” Mr. Evans whistles slowly, retreating away from the doorway. “Don’t let me bother you two, I guess.”

Beckett rolls his eyes, the very top of his cheek tinged with a pinkish tone. I’m guessing from the shower, probably. He wouldn’t be blushing because of me. That’s a ridiculous assumption to make.

“He is so annoying. I’m really sorry, Cass.”

“No, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” I wet my lips, smiling awkwardly. “Maybe I should’ve texted first, but I got a little excited about the good news.”

“Good news?” Beckett steps aside, giving me room to step into the house. Pepé bolts toward me, tail wagging furiously. Honestly, I’m impressed he waited inside this long. “What’s going on?”

“I talked to my dad.” I bury my nose against the dog’s fur, inhaling his warm, familiar puppy scent. “He said I can bring Pepé home while you’re away at work.”

“Really?” Beckett’s face lights up, a single dimple making an appearance on his right cheek. I smile, too. “Man, that’s a relief! I was about to call in a favor with Well, but he already has so many dogs at the farm. Didn’t want Pepé getting bullied by a chihuahua.”

Pepé barks like he knows we’re talking about him.He is the cutest dog in the world.

“I spent the whole afternoon getting ready to take this little guy home,” I explain while shaking Pepé‘s ears gently. The dog immediately barks in response. “Are you excited to spend some time with me?”

“Wait, come with me. Let’s go upstairs. I’ve got to show you all his stuff.”

Beckett wraps the towel around his neck like a cape as he walks. I trail behind him, taking in the house, observing how it looks from the inside.

It’s bigger than ours, for starters.I think it might be the biggest house in Port des Ondes too, and it’s not even their biggest estate on the island.

Before moving to Port des Ondes, the Evans lived in some kind of mansion near Les Salines , a few hours away from the city.They only had to move closer so that the kids could attend school, but I’ve seen a few of the pictures on Lucia’s page.

The Evans are old money type of rich. According to Kayla, Beckett even has his very own gym built in somewhere in the property. I mean, it must mean they have enough to spare if they can think about paying for all that.

I can’t help but notice Mrs. Evans also clearly has a talent for decorating.

She made everything look incredibly welcoming, warm lighting popping against beige walls.

Their set of Christmas family portraits still hangs on the walls, Beckett seemingly awkward and stiff in most of the pictures, avoiding staring at the camera. Lucia always beams happily beside him.

It’s cozy.

“Did you know I was an adorable baby?” I keep my tone light, grinning at Lucia’s chubby baby pictures. “Very chubby, too.”

“I wasn’t that chubby,” Beckett mutters while scratching his chest. My gaze drops, catching on the tattoo carved on his chest, right above where his heart should be. Lucia’s name is written in dark black ink. “Not in the pictures, at least.”

We reach his room, and I linger by the door, unsure whether to step in or stay outside.

“It’s okay, Beckett,” I say playfully. “I won’t judge baby you for his un-chubby-ness.”

Beckett chuckles, already rifling through his closet and taking out random boxes from inside it. His smile is easy when he is around me. I find the fact devastating.

“I feel like you’re just making words up at this point,” he jokes.

“Maybe I am.” I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. My bracelets get caught in the fabric of my dress and while I try to set them, a piece of thread is attached to the hook. “Shit, I can’t ruin this dress. Do you have any scissors?”

“Over the desk.” He points at a corner, and I take it as an invitation to go get it myself. I find the pair of scissors over a bunch of papers, pick it up, and cut the thread before my dress gets ruined. “I think I have everything you need here.”

“What’s in it?” I ask.

He answers, “Just dog shampoo, dog treats, toys, his leash, and medicine in case his eye allergy starts acting out again.”

“Oh, I got him a few toys. Well, actually, I was going to get him some treats too, but my brother left and took the car.” I pout, placing the scissors back where I first found them. “I really want Pepé to feel at ease, you know?”

Beckett tilts his head, listening to me while I lean against the desk for support. I love the way he tries his best to keep eye contact with me, even if it usually doesn’t last very long. I can tell it’s something difficult for him to do, but he still does it.

“You don’t need to buy my dog anything, Cassandra. Call me, and I’ll run to the store myself.”

“But he’s basically my dog too now.” I shrug and grab the box, but he doesn’t let go. “Give it to me.”

“Mn,” he hums, eyes flicking up to meet mine again. “Your dog?”

“Our dog,” I concede with a grin, now playing with one of the toys. It’s some sort of knotted rope, which Pepé seems to have barely used. “Is that okay?”

Beckett’s gaze softens as he answers, “Maybe.”

I stare at the toy again and frown.

“He better play with what I got him, or else.”

He chuckles, “Pepé would rather play with a plastic bag over any toy I’ve ever bought him. Is this going to be heavy?”

I shake my head, smiling at how soft his words are. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Pepé barks from the bed, watching us expectantly. I can tell this is important to him, perhaps even more than it is to me.

“Pepé and I are going to have so much fun.”

Beckett nods slowly, still watching me carefully.

“You will.”

I blink, not knowing what else to say to fill in the blanks.We’re so close. Too close, maybe. And… I don’t know. My crush is just a crush. Silly and hopeless. It’s not a real thing, but moments like this…

Moments like this give me hope.

His expression shifts, becoming more serious now. “Text me, okay? I want you to text me all about it. Let me know how he’s doing or if you need anything. I’m a bit overbearing like that.”

“Sure. I will.” I nod, unable to look away. “I can totally do that.”

“Good.”

Beckett’s gaze flicks to my face, specifically to the makeup that’s covering the bruise my brother left the other day. He steps closer, touching my chin and tilting it up and towards him.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I am,” I answer, feeling myself blush again. “I promise it’s just a little bruise.”

He hums, eyes lowering towards my mouth, “Cherry lipgloss?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

Beckett shrugs before pulling away.

“Smells like it.”

My breath hitches.

It’s totally involuntary, like in movies, when a kiss is about to happen. Like, not a big thing, but still a thing anyway. A small, almost-not-there-at-all kind of thing. But a small thing is still a thing, and well…

It’s something.

It has to be.

And the fact that it happens because of him feels important somehow, too. Or maybe I’m overthinking this. Yesterday, I didn’t know Beckett Evans could make my breath catch like that, but now…

Now, I do.