Page 51 of Saving the Rain

So I guess now we just forget. And we move on.

Chapter 21

Chaos:

So, sweet cheeks . . .

Do I need to haul ass up to your hillbilly mountain shack, or what?

You’ve got one hour to stop leaving me on read, or I’m gonna turn up and haunt your sorry self.

Consider this your final warning.

Put some pants on and get your dick outta your hand for five minutes. I don’t need to walk in only to find you jerking off until you go blind.

Ishake my head at the sight of my Instagram inbox blowing up thanks to Chaos. As I slurp my coffee and at least make a half-hearted effort to finish breakfast, I’m tempted to avoid the conversation altogether. But then again, if things were the other way around, I’d be the same way. So I decide to suck in a deep breath and reply, even if I’m not prepared to tell him the whole truth at the moment.

Jesus. You’re a total pain in the neck,you know?

Dots flurry as he types a reply straight away.

Ahh. He’s alive, folks.

Kayce Wilder hasn’t gone mad, stuck on top of Devil’s Peak with nothing better to do than beat his dick.

Starting to think you have an unhealthy obsession with my junk, Chaos.

Maybe. Maybe, not.

So what’s the deal? You had your scan yesterday, right?

Way to leave me hanging.

The deluge of nausea and worry is right there, threatening to spill over. I don’t want to accept the reality, and I don’t want to lie to my friend. So, I settle for a dumb half-truth, one that I can at least stomach right at this point in time.

As much as I don’t want to admit it, Raine’s words are still ringing in my ears from last night.You’re giving up already.If I type it out in little black letters on the screen, then maybe I’ve taken the loss. So I bite down on the anxiety and stick to the simple explanation that Chaos needs to hear. Facts. That’s all I have to face in the here and now.

I’m out for the season.

You’re gonna have to find someone else to put up with your snoring and farting in your sleep while on the road.

Man... that’s shitty news. Sorry to hear it.

I’m gutted for you.

It is what it is. Nothing to be done.

Got a follow-up scan booked in.

How long ‘til you’re back on tour?

I laugh to myself out loud in this empty kitchen. How about probably never? It’s impossible not to stare at my phone screen and see the sympathy in my doctor’s eyes instead of a message thread. Easily recalling the downward tilt at the corners of their mouth that left me spinning. I’m not an idiot; that look was more than just acommiserations for losing out on the rest of your season.

It was an unspoken moment that saidhave you thought about what your future might hold?

Shouldn’t be long.

I’ll be back to kick your ass in no time.