There was no sunshine today. The sky was dull and gray, like my blanket of numbness. It was going to come back. I could feel it—stifling, depriving my senses. It was like I was trapped in a net under water. The more I fought, the more entangled I became.
I used to like the clouds. They reminded me of the rain. Now they reminded me of suffocation. I’d never known I was suffocating before—because I’d never really known what it was like to breathe.
The freeway blurred by.
I stared at the glass, not the view, just the glass, trying to find specks of dirt and pollen to focus on. There were none. The car was too clean.
We stopped, and I focused past the glass. My house.
James stood from the car. Before he could come around for my door, I opened it and got out. He took my bags from the trunk. I followed him up the front steps, and he set my bags by the front door.
He hesitated to leave. “Um…” He seemed to care that I was upset, but he obviously had no idea what to say. Of course, Alec had sent the man I knew the least. I couldn’t tell him anything or ask any favors of him—no messages to Hanna asking her to talk to Alec. Alec had cut me out of his life with a machete, clean and quick, excruciating.
I dismissed James with, “Thank you for the ride.”
He left me there standing on my porch and drove away.
I turned and looked at my front door and realized I didn’t have my keys. Alec had borrowed them on the first day—so he could get my clothes for me, so he could risk being seen just to bring me my stupid clothes. It wasn’t like him to miss a detail like this. The rest of this morning had been planned like a surgery.
Then I thought, perhaps he hadn’t missed anything. I tried the knob, and the door opened. I figured I would find my keys and phone sitting on a table inside.
I walked into the darkened house. It smelled the same as it had for years—stale, as if no one lived there. I could barely see. I walked in farther, past the open door, to find the lamp, the one next to my father’s chair. I used to fall asleep there, wishing I could still smell him on the fabric.
The only light in the room was coming from the one un-shaded window, the one that looked out onto the front porch. I glanced around at it.
I stopped walking.
Alec. He was standing at the window, looking outside. He looked just like in my dream—perfectly straight and still, almost like he wasn’t alive. Something in his eyes was dead.
“It’s overcast today,” he said. “It’s not supposed to rain until tomorrow.”
I just stood there. I had about begged James to let me see Alec, and now I had no idea what to say.
“I promised to get you back to your house,” he said. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
This didn’t feel like home anymore. Hanna and Ben weren’t here, and I knew Alec wouldn’t be here for long.
I didn’t know what to say. Beg him not to leave? Finally to believe me? To trust me? I knew none of it would be enough. He was going to leave, just like everyone else.
“You’re safe now,” he said.
“Because of you.”
“Anyone who would have been a threat has been arrested. Several people are already turning on Dean. There will be plenty of evidence to keep him in prison for many years.” He turned his head to look at me. “You’re safe. I’ve made sure of it.”
“Thank you.”
He turned back to the window. “Included in the charges is the hired murder of your father.”
“You knew about my father, about how he died.”
“I never met him. But I knew he was a good man. He shouldn’t have died.”
A long pause.
“I’m sorry you found out like that,” he said. “My intention was to tell you myself, gently.”
“How’d you know?” It didn’t really matter. I just wanted to keep him talking.
“I should’ve realized Dean wouldn’t be able to resist telling you. He seems to enjoy watching people’s pain, especially when he’s the instigator of it.” He paused. “I’m surprised he didn’t go to the funeral.”
My father’s funeral? Alec couldn’t know who attended. Unless…he’d been there. No, if I’d ever seen his face, I would remember. The only things I remembered clearly about that day were trying not to cry, trying not to break down, pretending to be strong through all the condolences, all the handshakes and hugs from people I barely knew. Only one person held me, the way I needed, the way…
I gasped.
Alec glanced back then returned to looking out the window, staring blankly at the house across the street.
The plain black suit, no tie, and the way I fit perfectly into his hold. “It was you,” I said.
“I was careful not to let you see me.”
“Why—”
“I saw in your eyes how much you were hurting. You could hide from everyone else, but not me. You didn’t need any more apologies for your loss. You needed to be held. You needed someone who would hold you up while you cried.”
My voice barely made sound. “I didn’t want you to go. It hurt when you left.”
“It was for the best.”
“Dammit, Alec.”
He did not look at me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” he said. “I was afraid you would insist on leaving.”
I was too frustrated to speak, to ask him what in the world he was talking about. Telling me about Dean’s killing my father would’ve made me want Alec’s presence that much more.
Alec took a breath.
“I was watching your father that day,” he said. “I heard the meeting with Dean. Your father confronted him about some inconsistencies in his books. Once his suspicions were confirmed, he dropped Dean as a client. He was careful not to sound threatening, as though he thought Dean would leave him be if it was clear your father was not interested in exposing him. Dean left, and your father seemed to think it was over. I knew better.”
“You went to your father.”
“He wouldn’t listen. He knew enough to know I felt strongly about you. I suspect his refusal was my punishment.” He ran a hand through his hair, and his rumpled shirt sleeve unrolled. His stubble added shadows to his face.
“I tried,” he said. “I swear I did. I had hoped the man Dean hired would take a few days to study your father’s patterns. I went back to your father, to follow him, to watch out for him. He was dead by the time I got there.”
“Did he feel it?”
“They knew what they were doing. I doubt he saw it coming.”
I nodded, even though he wasn’t looking. The relief of knowing my father hadn’t been in pain stole my voice.
“That was the first time I failed you,” he said, “the first of many.”
“You’ve never failed—”
“Dammit, Adriane.” He turned to glare. “Your father died because I failed. What in the fuck don’t you get?”
“Alec,” I said, “please don’t.”
He turned away. His face tightened, in pain, as if he was enduring shrieks of anger blasting through his head, squirming into every crevice, demanding that he listen, that he obey.
His voice was calmer, but strained, as though it was difficult to talk through the pain. “I let your father die, and a part of you died with him. I kidnapped you. I upset you so many times. I allowed you to be hurt. I haven’t kept my promises.”
“You’ve protected me.”
“Son of a bitch,” he roared. He turned and then was in front of me, glaring down.
I glared back. “I’m not scared of you.”
“You will have what you deserve.”
Then he seemed to calm, to force the façade of calm. He stepped back, closer to the door. “Goodbye, Adriane.” He turned away, and his voice was gentle. “You won’t see me, but if you ever need anything, I will always be there.” He took a step.
“Please don’t go.” I was ready to beg. I couldn’t find a rational argument that would work against his father.
His feet paused, and his tone was calm. “This is what you need.”
“It’s going to be like before. I’m going to drown again.” My voice shook. “Please, Alec.”
He didn’t move.
“It’s just like when I lost my father. I lost the person I loved the most, the only person I loved.”
His jaw clenched. I could almost feel the pain in his head. “It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not the same. You’re choosing to leave.”
“I would just hurt you again.”
“You’ve never hurt me.”
“Do you think I’m a fucking moron?” He looked back at me. “I’ve never seen you cry so much as when I first took you. You never used to cry. You didn’t even want me to touch you, to help you.”
“The day in the woods,” I said.
He nodded.
“It wasn’t what you think.”
He smirked. “Enlighten me.”
“I couldn’t be in your arms, to be touched by you—out of pity.” I moved slowly closer. “I thought I could never have you.”
His expression twisted, a combination of confusion and pain.
“You never scared me or made me uncomfortable. I was upset because I never got to see you, because I thought you would never care like I did.” I was just in front of him. “I loved you from the first day.”
In his eyes, there was chaos, like the emerald was cracking then flaking away.
“Your father is wrong,” I said.
His voice sounded like an automatic response. “He’s always right.”
“You said when you saw me wake up he was quiet. Why?”
His eyebrows lowered. “You saw something in me. I trust your judgment.”
“Do you still trust me?”
He paused. “Yes.”
“More than him?”
“Yes.”
Slowly, my hand brushed along his cheek, and then into his hair. I moved closer and rested my other hand on his shoulder. My lips were at his ear. “Is he quiet now?”
He didn’t move, didn’t hold me, but he didn’t push me away, either. “Yes.”
I lifted onto my toes and wrapped my arms around him. My hand in his hair, I cradled his head and pressed my cheek to his. “I’ll keep him quiet,” I murmured. “I promise.”
He let me hold him.
“Please, Alec,” I whispered, “please don’t push me away.”
He said nothing.
With every second, the click of the old clock on the mantle seemed slower, like wading through the ocean. The deeper you went, the more time that passed, the slower the progression. Until, finally, everything seemed to stop. It was like standing in the middle of a tornado and knowing I had no power to save myself, giving up to Mother Nature’s fury. The tornado swirled, about to devour me at any second. If Alec turned me away, the rest of my life would be like this, blurry and out of my grip.
I’d fought all I could. Hanna was right when she’d told me Alec’s father was a strong man. If Alec let me, I was sure I could help him with the quiet, but his father’s hold might be too strong. I wished I’d known what I was up against from the beginning. Maybe I would’ve had a better chance. His father, his only family, the man who controlled his universe, told him from the time he was a child that he was undeserving, that he’d killed his mother. A child could never be expected to fight against that.
But Alec was different from his father. He was angry like him, but he tried to control it, raged against the hatred. I knew he wanted to be a good man. My hope lay with that part of him his mother had left behind, the part Hanna had done everything she could to nurture, the gentleness hidden beneath the anger. If he trusted me like he said and if he could let himself see how much I needed him, maybe he could believe he deserved to be loved.
It all came down to whom he trusted more—his father or me.
I kept holding him, praying, begging God to give me power, just this once. It wasn’t even really about having Alec for myself. It was about saving him. If walking away was what would save him from his father and the anger, then I would do it. But I knew, with everything in me, everything that made me the person I was, that Alec needed for us to be together. It didn’t matter why, or if it made sense. It only mattered that it was the truth.
Alec’s frame slackened, as if something inside him was dissolving. I held tighter, hoping I had the strength to hold him together, to help him accept what he deserved. “I love you,” I whispered.
He wrapped his arms around me.
I didn’t know what to think, and I was too scared to ask what he was thinking. Was he holding on to me, or merely giving me one last hug? With all of my strength, I clung to him.
He pressed his face into my neck and held me tightly, arms wrapped all the way around so that his fingers brushed my sides.
Then he lifted his head to press his cheek to mine.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“I know, baby.” I stroked his hair. “You don’t have to.”
We held each other for a long time. The warm breeze swept in through the open door and tinkled the wind chime on my neighbor’s front porch. Alec’s breaths were slow and quiet.
In his ear, I whispered, quieter than the breeze, “I will always love you.”
He looked at me. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do.”
His eyebrows lowered.
“That’s how you feel about me. I don’t understand it any better than you do, but I know how I feel. It’s the same.”
He lifted his hand. “I’ve wanted to touch you for…”
I held his fingers to my cheek, and something in his eyes cleared. It was like dark clouds being blown away by the wind. I took a breath. It felt like I hadn’t breathed properly in years. I was almost shocked by the sensation.
Then his eyebrows pulled together. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was harsh with you.”
“You were trying to make it easier for me to let you go.”
“I won’t do that again.”
I stroked his hair. “I know.”
He took a breath. “Are you sure?”
“Take me home.”
He hesitated.
I took his hand and pulled him toward the door. He followed easily. Then I stopped at the porch steps. “Um, did you bring a car?”
He smiled a little. “You forget how good I am at this.”
My eyebrows lowered.
“I parked in the lane.” His smile curved a bit more. “You never did notice the cars.”
“I’m a girl,” I defended. What did I know about cars? I still say a Lotus is a flower.
He continued down the steps, still holding my hand.
As we hit the sidewalk, a drop of water fell to my skin. I looked up at the clouds. More drops. One by one, they coated my face, dripped down my skin. I loved the feel—lifting my face to something that other people avoid and cower away from. I was one of very few who truly knew the pleasure of rain on my skin.
Gentle fingertips on my cheek.
I opened my eyes to see Alec watching me. He seemed far away and yet right here. “Just as beautiful as I remember,” he murmured.
“I remember that day.”
He brushed his thumb across my lips. “Not as well as me.” His gaze wandered across my face, and his fingertips followed. He seemed mesmerized, like he was reliving five years ago.
He paused, as if he was trying to decipher something. There was no pain in his face, though—his father was still quiet. Alec looked like he was trying to take me in, to understand fully.
“I will love you forever,” I said. “There’s no turning back.”
He smiled a little, the open kind, honest.
His fingers smoothed across my hair, and his palm rested on my cheek. “I want to take care of you.”
I held his hand to my skin. “You do.”
“Forever.” He met my lips once lightly then murmured against them. “I want to ask you a question.”
I understood. Immediately, I understood. My heart pounded against my ribs. He had to be able to hear it.
He held on to my hand and knelt on the sidewalk.
The rain made his fair skin luminous in the faded sun, and pulled his hair down onto his forehead. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no worry, or distance. There was only trust.
He looked up at me through the downpour. “Adriane, will you be my wife?”
My lips curved. “Only if you say please.”
He grinned. “You won’t try to hit me this time?”
My smile curved more.
“Please,” he said.
I touched his cheek with my fingertips. “Yes.”
Then he was holding me against him and kissing me. There was relief and freedom in that kiss, no secrets and very little self-control. It was like trying to control the rain, trying to stop it or contain it. Once it was captured, it was no longer rain, only water. Rain was in the falling of it, the freedom, the inevitability, the washing away of the dirt of the world. It was like falling in love.
I looked up at the clouds, and the rain continued to fall.