Page 111 of One Last Rainy Day
In my mind, these days, weeks, and months have been pointless, and every single one has felt like the sentence it is. I feel like my heart can only resume its rightful beat when I’m back in Triple Falls, and my brother can look me in the eye—until I can find her hand in the midst of this shit.
The time we spent together is starting to feel more like a distant daydream. And the worst part is, the longer I stay here without her, the more it will remain one. Even when we get back to Triple Falls, I won’t find her on that street—waiting.
Or is she?
Shutting the door behind me, I trek down the hall, making my way out of the hostel and into the storm. She probably hates us both for deserting her without promise. For not fighting Tobias harder. For remaining silent. We aren’t helpless. We could have refused to come and engineered a new way to move forward and around my brother. Being here isa choice, remains a choice, a pledge of allegiance, and most importantly, an apology. One he deserves.
But at this point, I’m getting pretty fucking sick of apologizing.
I’m not afraid to go head-to-head with whatever waits around the corner, but I’m terrified her hand will no longer be there when I reach for it.
Abandoning cover, I let the rain surround me, my skin eagerly soaking it in like it’s been starved.
Every day is starting to feel like a day too late. There’s a panic that’s snaked its way in the last few weeks and is beginning to fester in my chest.
And it’s changing—right now.
We left her mind racing and her confused heart gaping. Any vulture that comes along now is likely to devour her, to pick at her piece by piece until there’s nothing left. The idea of her moving on makes me physically fucking ill. The thought of that has jealousy rooting deep.
I have to get to her.
Tobias is just going to have to accept it. She deserves more than being left on a deserted street with a shady explanation. If this time has taught me anything, it’s that I know exactly who the fuck I am and what I want, and I don’t have to have my brother’s permission to have it.
Time. Fucking. Served.
Sentence over.
Without another thought, I press send on the burner phone, and he answers on the second ring.
“Dom?”
“Tyler,” I rasp out, freely bleeding as her voice whispers through the rain.
“I love you.”
“Tyler, I fucked up,” I relay, as the water sheets down around me, thunder rolling down the quiet residential street.
I hear the concern in his voice. “What’s going on?”
Muting myself until I can speak, I feel his anxiety spike over the line. “Dom?”
“I need a favor,” I croak.
More silence. And we both know why. He’s already walking a thin line with Tobias and knows exactly what I’m about to ask for.
“You’ll be home in a week,” he reminds me.
“I don’t give a fuck! I’ve done nearly ten goddamn months. Don’t you think that calls for a little fucking acknowledgment? He was here yesterday and didn’t fucking bother speaking to us. I don’t even know if it’s worth this shit if he won’t even talk to us anymore. Things won’t be the same no matter what we do. Why the fuck am I even here?”
“Dom,” he says in a tone that insinuates I should know better. And I do but fuck this. “You saw him.”
I did. And he was inconsolable. Aside from the day of my parents’ funeral, I’ve never seen him cry. Even then, he was alone when I caught him, but my decision is made. “If he wants to live like a fucking monk for the rest of his life, that’s on him.”
“You know that’s not why.”
I slam my fist into the mailbox next to me. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“You’re doing it. Hang in there, seven days, and you’re home.”
