Page 1 of One Last Rainy Day
Prologue
INTUITION ISN’T SOMETHINGI’ve been granted the same way others have—a gift that sparks up at certain times for guidance. It’s never been that way for me. For the entirety of my life, it’s been my daily fuel and has never failed me.
Not once.
So how did I get here?
How in the fuck did I get here?
“He’s a man with too many secrets and no one to share them with.”
—Cecelia,Flock
Chapter One
THE PURR OFSean’s motor sounds as I tighten the last bolt. The heavy repeat of his engine and crunch of gravel help detract from the noise that’s been echoing in my head for the last twelve fucking hours.
It shouldn’t surprise me anymore—laying witness to acts of disgusting, power-drunk men in a position of so much authority that they become bored. Once that happens, they start testing the limits to see just how much they can get away with. And they do, drumming up and living out the sickest of fantasies—most involving preying on the weak and defenseless.
So, no, while it shouldn’t surprise me—no matter how hard I try—I can’t ever find a place inside myself to fully numb to it. I’m not a praying man, but as of late, I find myself begging for that numb every fucking day.
Relieved Sean’s here to distract me, I peer at him around the hood of the Mazda I’ve been working on since I gave up the possibility of sleep. He saunters toward the bay with a relaxed posture to envy and a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Get that piece running?”
Stupid question.
“Not a stupid question,” he quips, tossing his cigarette down before grinding it out with the heel of his boot. “If you managed the unmanageable, I would go so far as to call it miraculous.”
Unlocking the hood prop, I drop it down as he situates himself behind the wheel to get his answer. Rounding the car, I move to the other side of the driver’s door where he sits in the shredded pleather seat, one boot planted on the garage floor. Plucking my shop towel from my jeans, I wipe my fingers clean as he turns the key, and the ancient car instantly sparks to life. Grinning, he lifts his chin toward me. “You’d be a half-decent mechanic if you were a little less scary and more conversational.”
I roll my eyes as he continues.
“That’s what, three or four sentences and no reply?” he jests, killing the engine before climbing out and snapping the door shut. “I rest my case.” He scrutinizes me. “Where did you go last night?”
I shrug. “A drive.”
“Yeah? See anyone?”
I jerk my chin.
“Isolation isn’t always good in your case. My door is only feet away from yours.”
“Wasn’t in the mood to talk.”
“Yeah, toddlers behave the same way when they get upset.” He reads my posture and sighs. “Going to be that kind of day, huh?” He shakes his head in irritation.
The truth behind this rare friction between us is that Sean believes he wants to know what’s circulating in my head. For me to air my shit out so he can pick it apart because hethinks he might be able to help. But because I know him just as well, letting him in on the secrets I’m guarding would only tear his insides to a near irreparable state and leave him in the same predicament I’m currently in. For now—until I can unleash on those responsible for how I’m feeling—I’m stuck in the most hellacious type of prison.
For now.
But soon...
“What, man? What?” Sean asks, sensing my struggle against the leash that continues to tighten as I fight against it by the day. He fishes out another cigarette. “Come on, man. Give mesomething.”
The flick of his Zippo calms me a little. The familiar sound reminds me that I am not alone in this and never have been.
“You may think you’re locked up tight enough, Dom, but it’s starting to leak everywhere. You are making this,” he gestures between us, “hard already. If you keep a lid on what’s importantnow, you’ll make what’s coming impossible.”
