I grab Nash’s boots and jacket and place them in front of her, as he’s the smallest among us. “Here, you can borrow these. We’re not going to be out there for long.”
We get outside, and the first touch of rain is like a trigger, pulling me back to a time and place I’ve tried desperately tolock away. I can feel the cold seep through my coat, each drop a hammer against my resolve. My body locks up, an instinctive response to a fear that’s rooted deep within my bones. The laughter and joy around me from Sloan and Lio as they spin with their arms stretched out and face to the sky while water droplets land on Sloan’s pretty nose is not enough to pull me out since it sounds like it’s underwater. I’m standing in the middle of a storm again, but it’s not just the rain—it’s the storm of memories, relentless and overwhelming.
My chest tightens, and my breaths come in sharp, labored gasps. I’m here, but I am also there—in the eye of a tempest from my past, where every raindrop is a bullet, every thunderclap a wave that pushes me under, the boom reverberating through my skull.
Sloan’s laughter, pure and uninhibited, cuts through the fog of panic. I try to anchor myself to that sound, to the image of her with rain gliding down her cheeks, carefree. But the harder I try to hold on to the present, the deeper I slip into the quicksand of my trauma.
My fists are balled so tight that my nails dig into my palms, a futile attempt to regain control, to feel something other than the fear. My body remembers the drill—breathe in, breathe out. But the rain, the storm, it’s mocking me.
Just when I’m on the brink, when the urge to flee nearly overtakes me, Sloan steps up before me. Her eyes, kind and beautiful, cut through the chaos. When she takes my fists, it’s with a tenderness that makes my knees weak. Her touch is grounding, a lifeline thrown into the tumultuous sea of my panic.
She’s close, her breath a warm contrast to the chill of the rain, her voice a tether pulling me back from the edge. “I’ve got you,” she says, and it’s more than words—it’s a declaration, a promise.
With her hands in mine, the storm outside becomes just a storm, not a monster from my past. Her touch and assurance begin to peel away the layers of fear. And I cling to it because it is the only thing that feels real amidst the surge of panic. Slowly, the vise around my heart loosens, my breathing steadies, and the world comes back into focus.
I let go of her hands to pull her closer to me by her hips. Leaning down so our noses nearly touch, her warm breath whispers on my lips. My heart beats for an entirely different reason now. Her presence settles me, her coconut scent more intense than the smell of rain. Her hands come up to land on my chest over the raincoat, and my whole being concentrates on the places we touch.
A raindrop lands on her nose once more, and I watch as it runs down the bridge of it, a smile tugging on the side of my mouth.
Everything about her is so fucking beautiful.
I raise my hand to wipe away the drop with my finger before I cup her cheek, her eyes searching my face. I’m contemplating leaning in to steal a kiss, but Lio jumps in a puddle beside us, splashing us both. We scatter, Sloan laughing loudly, and adrenaline courses through me. I have no idea if it’s still from the fear or the little stolen moment we just shared.
Sloan chases after Lio, their laughter echoing in the rain. She’s stomping behind him in the way too big rubber boots like the dinosaurs that Lio loves, splashing through puddles, her arms flailing with a charming clumsiness while she’s making roaring sounds that have him laughing so hard he can barely keep ahead of her.
I already suspected that I was falling for her.
Now I know.
“Come on, Lio.” She laughs as she grabs him around the waist and carries him over to me. “Let’s get warmed up.”
THIRTY-SIX
Yesterday,after our little dance in the rain, Hunter asked me if he could have my number so he could text me the next time they cook something special. The question made butterflies flutter in my chest, but it was no longer a foreign feeling. Every time he held my hand, the anxious flitters took over.
And when he panicked in the rain and pulled me close?
I’m so fucked.
I need to leave, but I can’t until I have enough money to at least fix the heater. I should get my first paychecks from the restaurant and the shipyard soon. Even if it’s enough money to get the used heater I found online, it’s still a four-hour drive, and I don’t think Van-essa would make it there and back.
I want to stay at least another two weeks working here to earn money for the road. Or, that’s what I keep telling myself. It has nothing to do with the friendships I’ve formed.
Keep lying to yourself, Sloan.
Thankfully, it’s warmer now. The temperature has risen, but it’s still quite chilly at night. Even though I know I should go back to living in Van-essa—it would be uncomfortable but possible even without the heater—I can’t bring myself to do it now.
I’m weak like that.
One of the reasons why is texting me as I make my way out of the shipyard after my shift.
Hunter
Dino nuggies and fries. Wouldn’t miss it if I were you.
I chuckle and type my response to Hunter with a grin.
On my way, can’t wait.
