Page 97 of Saving the Rain

So, I quit that, too.

He’s been a shadow lurking in the corners of my life for so long; it’s become deep-seated in me now. An inbuilt response to keep endlessly moving. If I stay anywhere too long, it becomes more and more likely something will let slip, and he’ll figure it out. The guy comes back on shore from the rigs and has nothing but time and money on his hands. A pathetic excuse for a man with a stained fucking soul.

Part of me is worried he’ll catch wind that I’m back on this side ofthe border. A bigger part of me is fearful that if Kayce is part of my life, that leaves him the easy target.

I blow out a long breath. This is the internal battle I’ve been waging since Halloween. In the past, I refused to contemplate letting someone in. Not one single time did I feel compelled to allow a person into my life long enough to be considered a relationship.

With Kayce? Now things between us have evolved? I can’t imagine doing any fucking thing without him.

As I’m standing in the parking lot, loading groceries into my truck, our conversation from breakfast this morning rolls back through my mind. After noticing his expression while we were in that floaty, blissed-out place, still coming back into our bodies, I saw it in the blue of his eyes. There was a moment when he disappeared on me, and I hate that the first thought I had was that maybe he didn’t want this, or us, anymore.

That’s why I had to tell him. I had to blurt it all out right there, in the middle of frying up breakfast, so he could keep hold of that certainty.

“I’m sorry for always being so hard on you back then,” I grunt, pushing the sizzling bacon around the pan. As I say the words, there’s no hiding the fact that Kayce’s eyebrows just jumped into his hairline. “I just wanted you to be as strong as you could be, you know. I wanted you to be tough enough to survive without me there. Ineededyou to be able to survive.”

Kayce’s arms wrap me from behind, and he rests his cheek against my spine.

On reflex, I snatch up his hands and hold them tight beneath my own, pressed to the center of my chest.

“After you left . . .”

“It was shit. I know.”

His nod is subtle, the faintest of scratches against my shirt.

“She stayed in that house when we both should have left. I got out at the first opportunity, too... but she wasn’t strong enough to leave him, or the pills.” His words vibrate against my spine. “Maybe that’s why I keep helping her, even now, when I know I shouldn’t. The guilt gets to me.”

I take the pan off the heat and turn around, cupping his face in my palms.

“You did everything you could. Her shit isn’t yours to carry.”

“But I ended up with too much of her in me. Too many of her weaknesses.” He winces.

With a long exhale, I wrap him in a firm embrace, pulling him flush against my chest. I know he’s struggled with his own path, fumbling through making shitty choices that an outsider might be quick to judge him for. But I get it. I understand. Hell, none of us are perfect.

“I wish I’d been here sooner,” I confess, speaking into his damp hair, inhaling the scents of soap and shampoo.

“You wouldn’t have liked who I was.” Kayce’s fingers flex against my ribs. “I’m glad you got to know me now.”

I feel him toying with the fabric of my shirt and give him a moment to collect those words he obviously wants to say.

“I prefer this version of me. He’s the guy I want you to know.”

My heart feels ready to burst. It aches for how little he thinks of himself, and at the same time is so proud of him for everything he’s achieved against all odds.

“I’m here for each version of you, snowflake,” I confess into his hair before clearing my throat. “C’mon, you need to eat before all of this gets cold.” Running my palms over his back, I squeeze him a little harder before releasing him, reluctantly. We start throwing food onto plates, and Kayce fusses with the coffee maker.

When he slides onto the stool opposite mine, his blue eyes narrow and pause on me for a moment as he slowly reaches forward and hands over a mug.

“What?” I stop with a fork full, hovering just in front of my mouth.

“You... you don’t drink when you’re around me. But you do around others.” He chews on the inside of his cheek.

“So?”

“Why would you do that?”

Setting my fork down, I tilt my head. “Kayce, your mom struggles with addiction. I know I might seem like a heartless asshole, but I’d be a real selfish prick not to respect your needs.”