Page 109 of Saving the Rain
“I know you are. And I’m just glad I found my way to Devil’s Peak eventually.”
“Me too, son.” Then he makes a throat clearing sound again, and I’m already internally groaning. “So...uhh... I know I might be pastforty, but I’m pretty sure my hearing is doing just fine. You wanna just...uhh...”
His awkward stumbling around the words makes me snort with laughter. “Explain that I somehow ended up falling for my stepbrother?”
“Yeah. That bit.” I can just picture him with a hand dug into his hair, phone held up to his ear, leaning against the counter of the kitchen in some quaint Irish cottage half a world away.
My cheeks burn, followed quickly by the pit sinking in my stomach at the thought of Raine. Fuck, I miss him so much. Just pausing to think about his name for the briefest second plunges me right back into all those awful feelings of yearning to have him back.
Worrying my bottom lip, I pull my phone away to briefly check the time. Fucking hell, it’s almost midnight. I really do need to get my ass moving.
“How did you know Layla was the one?”
He stays quiet on the end of the line for a long pause. “That day I first met her, and we got to talking—when I didn’t know who she was or her name—I felt something I’d never felt before. Then things played out the way they did, and I tried to forget her, honest to god, I tried.” My dad’s voice softens when he talks about her, and all I can think is that I’m so fucking happy for him that he’s been able to find that kind of love in his life. “Except, there was no forgetting her. There’s no other way to describe it. It’s like she was there in my blood; all it took was a brief conversation. None of it made sense, but there was a connection there. The kind of unmistakable attraction... pretty sure I’d still be carrying that around with me a hundred years later, even if she’d never come back into my life again.”
Is it awkward talking about my ex with my dad? Maybe on a certain level, but in all honesty, it feels like we’re speaking about two different people. A different life completely. Back then, I was an asshole drinking away my problems, and she walked in and out of my life in such a short span of time.
“I think he’s myone.” My mouth feels dry as I say it out loud, hardly more than a coarse admission into the emptiness of my truck.
“Then that’s all that matters.” It’s so calm, so sure, hearing my dadjust take everything in his stride like he does so fucking well. “But it’s gonna hurt like hell in the meantime.”
“You think he’ll come back?”
“After everything you just told me? The fact he said he was giving you time and space to figure things out? I have no doubt.”
My breath wooshes out of my lungs. “I’m gonna have to get going.” A few slushy droplets start hitting my windscreen as I peer out into the darkness.Snow.“Thanks for understanding... for not being weirded out, or flipping on me...”
The steadfast man he is, Dad further reconfirms with his next words exactly why I’m here doing what I’m doing to help him, even though it might be breaking my heart not to be with Raine right now.
“I’m here for you, Kayce. Anytime. Anything you need. All you gotta do is say the word. I’ll get on a flight tomorrow if you need me back there.”
Chapter 45
The first winter I spent here—when the snow arrived and grew thicker by the day—I cursed it endlessly.
Along with so many things in my life at that time, I hated what it represented. Being isolated. Stuck up here with nothing but my own dark thoughts and terrible places my mind was liable to go. If I didn’t have the constant buzz of alcohol simmering in my veins, and company to waste days away with, I would have to confront what was going on inside my head. I’d have to see all those broken pieces laid out.
Now, I’ve learned how to make peace with the mess. I’ve learned how to accept the parts of me that aren’t pretty, that certainly aren't perfect, but can still be loveable all the same.
Or so my therapist tells me.
We do online sessions. After starting out twice a week, we’ll aim to eventually work our way down to a biweekly check-in. Something I’ve done a hell of a lot of lately...talking.
Only, it’s not to the one person I actually want to speak to. What I wouldn’t give to hear his voice after spending these frozen winter months apart. To feel his touch cupping my jaw after all these miserable weeks on end without him. Burnt golden leaves of fall seem like a distant memory; an eternity ago when I look at the calendar and seehow we’re crawling closer to spring. Hell, I’d do just about anything to even be on the receiving end of one of his stupid scowls, as long as I was able to witness it in person.
Staring out over the ranch, the place is an endless expanse of white. Sugary powder dumped over everything after last night’s fresh snowfall. It’s beautiful, that much I can appreciate for what it is now. In this new season of Kayce Wilder, man who is learning how tolove himself. When in the past, I might have stood in this exact same spot with my coffee and wanted to hurl the entire thing against the wall because all I could see was a cage made up of winter’s icy touch.
At the conclusion of each session, I’ve been given homework. To find a way to open up to one person, about one thing. To take this monumental pile of crap that I’ve been terrified of being buried under in a landslide, and pick it apart piece by tiny piece. So today is the day I know I’m ready to talk to Chaos.
Honestly, I’ve left him until last. By now, I’ve pretty much worked my way through everyone I’m closest to, letting them know about how different my life is going to look once I’m no longer snowbound on this ranch, after winter vacates and the weather turns warmer.
So many things are going to be different, and yet there are also some massive fucking unknowns.
Namely, if I’ll be able to find Raine. Will he want to see me? Would he even consider returning to Crimson Ridge?
I take a quick photo through the kitchen window, showing the snow coating the view, remembering the times I stood here with him and took it for granted. When I rambled on about some stupid show, a series we should watch together, never once assuming there might be a future point in time when we wouldn’t get the chance. There’s no avoiding how much of an idiot I feel at times, the foolish naivety I had, presuming we’d be blessed with endlesstime.
Now I know more than ever how true the sentiment is that time is precious. It’s never guaranteed.