Page 118 of Downpour

When making a batch of banana bread didn’t fix anything, we moved on to cookies. Then brownies. And pie.

Claire swore up and down that baking that much was a regular occurrence for her, although I didn’t quite believe she had planned it for today. Still, we pulled out giant Tupperwarecontainers from her cabinets, sliced and boxed assortments of desserts, and made front porch deliveries.

While Claire took a boatload to the ranch hands’ bunkhouse, I stopped at Becks and Nate’s and Christian and Cassandra’s houses. Surprisingly, no one was home.

The long walk back down the dirt path gave me time to clear my head and settle my nerves.

When I passed the ranch office, I froze.

Ray’s golf cart was parked outside, and I could hear a cluster of voices talking over one another.

I clutched the plastic container like a life preserver and peeked through the crack.

Laughter bubbled up at something someone had said, then Ray’s voice cut in. “I just have to find her a job, then find her so I can fire her.”

I went numb.

Just when I thought we were figuring things out... Just when I thought Ray was working on himself so we could be together...

I was so stupid.

Tears burned like acid rain as I turned and ran back to Ray’s house. I wanted to pack and be gone by the time he came back. But the moment I stepped inside, I couldn’t handle it.

Everything smelled like him. It looked like us. Our lives were blended so seamlessly within these four walls.

I dropped the container on the kitchen counter and ran out the sliding door to the backyard.

The grass was soft on my toes as I slid my feet out of my flip-flops and sank them into the neatly clipped blades. The distant din of ranch life carried on the breeze.

I would miss it here. It had been a long time since I felt something like home. Like belonging. Like safety.

Even in the terror of a burglary, I knew there would be people to keep me safe. To watch out for us. I loved Ray with my wholebody—so much that it hurt. But it wasn’t just him. It was the whole Griffith family that I loved.

I wanted to be a part of it.

The rhythmic thumps of a wheelchair rolling down the ramp startled me, but I didn’t flinch. Why would the condemned jump at the sound of the executioner? They knew what was coming.

I stared at the glassy pond and refused to turn around to look at him.

The soft swish of his wheelchair rolling through the grass grew closer. “Hey.”

I found a pebble and pitched it at the surface, skipping it twice before it sank.

“Okay,” Ray said as he locked his chair and eased out to sit behind me. “I deserve the silent treatment.”

I flinched when he sat behind me because apparently, the damned do jump. Tears rolled down my face, and I didn’t care enough about my pride to wipe them away.

Ray sat me between his legs. I could feel the heat radiating from his chest. Usually, I would have immediately curled into him, but not this time.

I was tired of being played the fool.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he rested his chin on top of my head.

“Just get it over with already,” I rasped as I snapped a blade of grass out of the ground. “I’ll get my stuff and be gone by the end of the day.”

Ray stiffened. “What are you—” His arms tightened around me. “You heard me say I was going to fire you.”

The corner of my mouth trembled. “Just let me go,” I whispered.

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