Page 49 of One Last Rainy Day
I walk my cup over to the sink and rinse it, soaking in the view of his pond and the surrounding grounds. “What you’ve done with the place, man, it’s incredible. A recluse’s dream.”
“It is, thanks,” he says with a pride-filled grin.
“Appreciate you, man. Thanks for the hospitality.”
“Anytime,” he offers, walking me to the door.
“You hate company,” I chuckle.
“Not the quiet kind.” His lips lift before I take the stairs of his porch, pulling my keys from my jeans. He calls after me, stopping me at my driver’s door. “You good, Dom?”
“Almostmade a clean getaway,” I jest.
“I only give a fuck because of the state you were in when you got here.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle. See you tonight.”
“See you,” he says before shutting the door, no doubt relieved I didn’t want to talk feelings.
Pulling up to the townhouse a few hours later, I park next to Sean’s Nova and gather the bags littering my passenger seat. Just as I hit the top of the stairs, Sean’s bedroom door opens. Flipping on my bedroom light, I place my burner on the magnetic strip that blocks all digital signals before dumping the bag’s contents on my bed.
A second later, Sean fills my doorway, assessing me as I start to line my empty shelf. “What’s good, brother?”
“Not a lot since both my girl and best friend went AWOL.”
“Well, you know me. If you’ve got a personal problem...it’s best to keep it to yourself.”
He chuckles, sauntering into the room. “You’re such a dick.”
“Yet, like all the others, you keep coming back for more,” I deadpan.
I continue to load my shelves as Sean clears his throat. “‘He slipped his shorts down enough so his ready cock sprang free,’” he recites, open paperback in hand. “‘He was so hard, pre-cum dripped from the tip. He took it in his hand and pumped a few times.’ I see we’re expanding our summer reading repertoire,” he muses, tilting the book my way.
“The romance genre alone grosses overa billiona year,” I counter, “which is currently more thanourcollectivenet worth.” Gathering more books, I turn to stock them and pause when I glimpse the hardback sitting on the shelf above.
“Clearly they’re cashing in onyou,” Sean quips as I brush my finger down the severely cracked spine of my mother’s copy ofLe Petit Prince. A vision of her shutters in, nestled in her favorite tattered chair, the open book resting on the arm of it as the sun streams through the window behind her. This time, I’m thankful for the memory without the accompanying guilt.
“Or maybeyou’re the oneplanning on cashing in,” he rasps thoughtfully, sorting through the books. Glancing back, I see his brows pull in confusion. “What is this, Dom?” His eyes narrow. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Whatever it takes,” I relay for a second time.
His mood shifts instantly. “So, you disappear for two fucking days and come back with a plan...to what?Hurt her?”
“‘The ink will always win,’” I recite back to him.
“I told you, all in, Dom, and I fucking meant it.”
“You seem to forget you don’t make the calls.”
“Youmade this call, and if I can lure her out of hiding, I’m inviting her to the Meetup tonight.”
I dip my chin. “I’ll drive her in.”
“To protect her.” Both statement and question.
“Sure.”
“God damnit,” he runs his hand through his hair, “if you’re planning on hurting her—”
