Page 115 of One Last Rainy Day
Visions flood in as I watch her chest rise and fall...the second our eyes locked in my backyard, the flash of surety I initially dismissed but still rang true through every fiber of my being.
She knows you.
The long looks we shared across every space, to the minute we snapped on that float before we collided and were created. The same continuous buzz thrumming steadily as we stole glances of each other between the flip of pages as storms raged outside my window.
Her fingers tracing my skin, wonder in her eyes, to running my palm reverently over her back—in awe of the heart that beat inside of her, wrapped in her mystery.
To the burst of sun that lit her up in my passenger seat as she adjusted her honeysuckle crown. The laughter spilling from us where she lay beneath me, tangled in the sheets before our smiles faded. Hearts raw and aching as we locked together, lost in our connection, chests bouncing in unison due to the tie that bound us.
That still binds us.
A fate we created together.
A story I’ll continue to re-live without regret.
Falling for her was worth hitting bottom—and every single ache that comes with it.
Reaching out, I trace the curve of her cheek.
“You gutted me, baby,” I croak in confession as my chest caves. “But I can’t say I don’t deserve it...” I falter, grunting through the pain consuming me. “You thrive on love, and I...we fucking starved your heart...we just left you here.”
Crushed by the weight of that truth, I lift her hand andthread my fingers through hers. “We both know I didn’t deserve you...but you made me feel like I did...even if I wouldn’t fucking hold your hand,” I admit. “I was going to,” I sniff. “I was going to try to be that guy. I was that guy. I just...” I slide my thumb along hers, the burn unbearable. “I would give fucking anything for one more day. Just one.”
She doesn’t stir, her hand lifeless in mine, breaths shallow but steady as she lies beneath me, looking every bit the sleeping beauty she is. But her eyes won’t open for me because they’re no longer mine to lose myself in.
No more escape.
No more fire and water to drown out the noise.
No more flame.
No more rain.
No longer mine.
Cracking wide, I bend over her, pressing my forehead to hers, “I’m sorry.” Feeling the shatter of finality, I press a salty, damp kiss to her temple, my whisper for her ear, my last confession, far, far too late. “I love you too, Cecelia.”
No more rain.
Chapter Forty-Four
AFTER TWENTY YEARSof observing alcoholism, I finally fucking understand thewhyof it. Drunk brings with it a state of numbness I hadn’t realized I could reach so easily. I can now appreciate how it helps to lessen the pain by blurring reality.
A reality where I stand in the garage surrounded by birds in a celebration I want no fucking part of.
Another homecoming party, bringing me full circle in this living hell—a reminder of the day it started. The day I locked eyes with the woman who’s forever altered me for better and worse.
The birds gathering around us pop beers, cracking smiles, and chattering noisily. Most of them are oblivious to the soul-crushing karma Sean and I have endured the last two days—where I exist in a present I can’t handle. A present only made bearable for the moment thanks to the half-drained pint in my hand. As I dwell in it, the future ticks on by the second—its taunt is cruel and unforgiving. Cecelia was right. When you don’t demand anything from life, that’s exactly what it delivers,nothing.
I never asked this life for anything but took everything it denied me. That tactic worked for me just fine—something my brother and I share in common...along with our taste in women.
I told my brother Triple Falls was mine, but as of now, I no longer want to play my part. I can’t even imagine what a life outside of the club would look like, but the question remains...how in the fuck are we supposed to resume our roles, our lives?
Tobias stole the one thing that made mine bearable. But in doing so, he finally discovered the value of something he practically forbade us all to take part in—love.
His rattled expression last night and panic-filled pleas to put Cecelia first were all too familiar because they mimicked the panic I felt when I was worried abouthis reaction—mostly of his reception and treatmentof her. An ironic laugh escapes me, getting lost in the crowd, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by Sean, who nudges me from where he stands beside me. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing you would find humor in,” I retort, taking another mind-numbing pull from my bottle before offering it to him. He shakes his head, full beer in hand, surveying the party.
