Page 51 of Saving the Rain (Crimson Ridge #4)

S ounds of Raine banging around the kitchen drift my way. He’s making coffee and breakfast for us since we both showered—reluctantly on my part at least—knowing the day wasn’t going to wait. What I wouldn’t give to linger under streams of hot water with his tattooed hands on my body.

There’s every chance I’m not here at ground level. Instead, I’m floating around somewhere high up in the skies over Devil’s Peak. Drifting along on the breeze, surrounded by the softest wisps of cloud. Ultimately hoping I don’t come crashing back to earth with an awful thud.

Somewhere, somehow, I like to think there is a universe where we could rewind time to last night and drag that experience out. I certainly know my brain is struggling to think of anything except for my growing obsession, my sneaky infatuation with my stepbrother, of all people.

I’m trying my best to focus on a sequence of boring, mundane tasks. Checking emails. Picking up the radio to the Sheriff’s office. Weather reports.

When really, my pulse flutters harder in my neck each time I detect a sound or movement from outside this tiny office—a cramped space filled with the debris of my dad’s life here on the ranch.

Each time I hear something, it further proves that Raine is still here .

.. and while I know it doesn’t mean anything, the notion that he was willing to stay long into the daylight hours, well, that sends my heart pitter-pattering a whole lot harder.

He hasn’t given me any indication of what this might be for him, beyond ruining me for life with how perfectly he plays my body. Can majestic fucking be considered a thing? Pretty sure Raine owns that crown.

Jesus. I’m standing here daydreaming about whether my stepbrother wants more with me than to just fuck me senseless. Of course I am. Those words from that day down at Rhodes Ranch, the seed Brad planted, keeps blooming.

A deeper connection with someone.

What the hell is the matter with me that I’ve fallen for the one person who none of this can ever make sense with?

How on earth am I supposed to explain this scenario?

More importantly... what if I decide I do want to confess everything to the people I’m closest to, but Raine doesn’t?

Tossing the radio handset back in its cradle, I scrub a palm over my face as a yawn takes over.

A little bleary-eyed, I check my Instagram.

The usual string of messages wait for me from my dad, which I reply to as briefly as possible while keeping him updated.

He’ll be a rottweiler with a bone if he thinks something might have happened at the ranch, and that’s the last kind of unnecessary stress I want to cause him.

A massive part of me doesn’t want to let him down in any way, especially when it comes to this place.

It’s been his entire life. He dedicated himself to being a guardian of this land, so I’m quick to make sure he knows everything is in order.

Neglecting the part where my personal life is a complete shambles. An Etch A Sketch shaken to smithereens.

Of course, seeing Chaos’s beaming presence online is unavoidable.

He adores the camera, and it loves him right back.

The guy knows exactly how to play the game, to put on the public persona, and turn the dial up on the brand that he’s built for himself.

Daring. Breathtaking. More than a little reckless .

It certainly helps that he’s on such a hot streak of wins. I swear to god, every time I glance at his profile, his follower count has jumped up.

The latest clip he posted earlier today shows event footage from this weekend.

Damn, amongst everything, and with my world being kind of entirely consumed by Raine, I’d forgotten that there was a rodeo stop nearby.

Not one of the bigger ones, but still an opportunity to get out in the arena and compete for prize money nonetheless.

Seeing him soar on the back of a bronc is one thing—hell, I’m always gonna be right there being the rowdiest goddamn supporter he could ever need—but it doesn’t erase the pang of all I’ve lost. With rodeo now being scrubbed off the chalkboard of my life, it makes it hard to come face to face with evidence that he’s out there in the arena. .. and I should have been there too.

Pinging him a message—keeping it partly congratulations, but mostly giving him shit, because that’s what we do—that familiar feeling creeps in.

The sight of him doing well is a reminder of what life might have been like if I had grown up here.

Chaos Hayes has always had the support of his family in doing what he does, even though I know he works impossibly hard to repay them for all they’ve sacrificed to help him get where he is with rodeo.

It still nags. The silent questions.

What if my mom hadn’t taken me away? What if I’d grown up here in Crimson Ridge? What if I wasn’t raised by a parent more interested in a bottle of pills?

But that’s where it skids to a halt in my mind’s eye. There are endless ‘what ifs,’ and dwelling on them isn’t gonna do anything for me.

Also... the part whispering a little louder these days reminds me that if not for being stuck with my mom, I never would have stumbled into Raine’s life.

It’s only natural that thoughts of my childhood, and Mom, bring her recent efforts to get my attention slamming right back into me.

As if I’ve summoned her, I’m just about to set my phone aside when an email notification pops up.

It’s an old address that I never use, and can’t remember the last time I checked.

My throat tightens seeing her name on my screen.

This time, it’s impossible to ignore her pleading, and when I tap to open her message, the words on my screen are largely disjointed and rambling.

Sent while she’s high, from the looks of it.

And maybe it’s because I’m feeling some kind of way after the events of the past day and night, perhaps it’s because Raine is only a few feet away in the kitchen, or it could just be the fact I want to shut her up for good.

I send her money.

I don’t ask how much, or what she needs it for.

I refuse to be sucked into this latest round of terrible, awful circumstances she’s landed herself in, because she’ll only drag me down with her.

The amount I send should be more than enough to cover the type of debt I know first-hand she’s capable of racking up. The kicker is that it also clears out my savings account in one fell swoop, and that’s like taking a bronc hoof straight to the gut.

But what am I using it for now anyway? Those dollars were savings I’d scraped together to put toward future rodeo events I might need to travel to. Now? That dream has gone up in smoke. So I swallow down the bile and send my mom the money she in no way deserves.

I’m left standing there gnawing the inside of my cheek, with a guilty conscience that wants to take hold. Should I be a better son, go find her, check to see if she’s doing alright? Is transferring her money in a cold, simplistic, transactional nature the best way to handle her addiction?

Fuck. I don’t know, and it’s so hard to think clearly about what might be right for her. Helping my mom doesn’t always equate to a nice, neat, straight-line solution.

“Eat something.” A plate is shoved under my nose, interrupting my daze of worry. My trepidation around how to best manage the woman who, beyond a doubt, is supposed to know how to take care of herself. You know, since she’s an adult and all.

Raine’s tattooed hands deposit the meal on top of a stack of invoices beside my dad’s ancient computer. A breakfast wrap.

I feel like throwing myself into his strong arms, but there’s every chance that might be the final clingy straw that breaks the mystical enchantment holding firm for now. Currently, we’re co-existing in a world where we spend a night falling into bed together, and he cooks breakfast for us.

“You need to go grocery shopping,” Raine reminds me. “I’m gonna go take care of the cattle; you deal with the horses. I’ll catch up with you at the barn before I have to get going, ok?”

I’m a wide-eyed foal offering a speechless nod of acknowledgment.

A wordless agreement to his instruction before he leaves the office as quickly as he entered.

He’s so good at just taking charge and doing what needs to be done.

That capable nature he wears so effortlessly is something I’m finding myself attracted to more and more the longer we spend time together.

A deep, shadowy place inside my heart, a crevice that hasn’t ever seen the light of day, sends up another little whisper.

The sort of barely-there, ethereal, crystalline shell of an idea.

Delicate and fragile and forever terrified of being destroyed.

Trust him. Let him take care of you.

Even though I could easily get lost in the routine of daily tasks that need to be done with the horses, I’ve got one ear out for when Raine will make his appearance.

I’ve lined myself up a nice little row of poor decisions in my life—and while asking my stepbrother to have sex with me doesn’t exactly feel like it should be labeled as such—I’m also chewing the inside of my cheek, unsure if he feels like it might be the worst mistake of his life.

Winnie gives me a nudge, to remind me that I shouldn’t be slacking on paying her attention. Dropping my forehead against hers, I scratch a little harder up the side of her neck.

While he and I haven’t exactly had a lengthy talk about any of this, I also can’t exactly blame us for not plunging head-first into treacherous waters where conversations are concerned.

I’m too new to any of this, fumbling around while discovering what constitutes my sexuality. And Raine, well, he’s just the type of man who isn’t gonna be forthcoming with words on the best of days .

So, I focus on stupid little things like mucking stalls, cleaning water buckets, and restocking horse feed.