Page 64 of Praying for Rain

The first one in my entire fucking life.

Prayer. That reminds me …

“Do you want to say anything?” I ask, kissing the top of her head.

She nods against my chest and lifts her glassy eyes to mine. “Thank you,” she says, and the sincerity in her voice cuts me to the fucking core. “I don’t … I can’t believe you did all this. For me.”

I smile and brush a tear away from her cheek with my thumb. “I’m beginning to realize there’s not much I wouldn’t do for you.”

That makes Rain smile, too. “Like what?”

“What wouldn’t I do for you?”

She nods, a glimmer of mischief returning to her sad red eyes.

“I don’t know … piss on Tom Hanks if he were on fire?”

Rain snorts out a snotty laugh and covers her nose with the crook of her elbow as she giggles. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. As I watch her, I try to commit every sound, every freckle, every eyelash to memory. I know it’s stupid. I know I can’t take these memories with me any more than I can take her, but I hang on anyway.

If the horsemen want her, they’re going to have to pry her out of my cold, dead hands.

When her laughter dies down, I gesture toward the graves with a flick of my chin. “I meant, is there anything you want to say to them?”

“Oh.” Rain’s face falls as she turns to look at the twin mounds of dirt again. “No,” she says with a heartbroken yet somehow hopeful look on her face. “I’ll tell them in person when I see them again.”

I nod, hoping that time comes later rather than sooner.

“So, what do we do now?” Rain sniffles, looking around. “What’s the new plan?”

“My only plan is to sit in that tree house”—I point in the direction of the wooden box a few yards away—“watch the sun set with this super-hot girl I kidnapped a few days ago, and then maybe make her dinner. I saw that this place has spaghetti and pancake syrup.”

Rain pulls her thin, dark eyebrows together. “You mean, you’re just … giving up?”

“No,” I say, taking her by the hand and leading her toward our home away from fucked up home. “I’ve just had a change of priorities; that’s all.”

“What could you possibly prioritize over surviving?” Rain asks, becoming eye-level with me as she steps onto the first rung of the tree-house ladder.

“Living.” I smile.

Then, I lean forward and kiss my girl while I still can.

Rain

Living.

The moment Wes’s lips touch mine, I understand exactly what he means. All the death—both past and future—falls away, and there’s only him. My living, breathing present.

I’m overwhelmed with love for him. I love him for coming back for me. I love him for saving my life even though I only have a few hours of it left. I love him for doing for my parents what I was too weak to do myself.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips, needing to say it out loud. Needing him to hear it.

Wes doesn’t respond at first. He simply closes his eyes and presses his forehead to mine. Whatever he’s about to say feels important, so I hold my breath as he takes one big enough for the both of us.

“The moment I saw you, I knew I was fucked.” His voice is raspy and low. “I knew it when I used my last bullet to pull you out of Burger Palace instead of saving it. I knew it when I pulled that stupid fucking stunt with the dogs instead of leaving you at Huckabee Foods. I knew it when I got shot for you, when I got a flat tire because of you, and when I went back into a burning building to find your ass. The whole time, I thought you were distracting me from my mission, but it wasn’t until you left that I realized you were my mission.” Wes opens his eyes, and his pupils drink me in. “I think I came here to find you, Rain. I’m just sorry it took me so long to figure that out.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I whisper around the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry. It sounds like I’ve been a real pain in the ass.”

Wes laughs, and the vision is so beautiful that I feel like I’m looking into the sun. I take a picture of him with my mind, the way he looks right now—backlit by an orange sky, white teeth glowing in his crescent smile, and a lock of brown hair grazing his perfect cheekbone. I want to remember this moment forever.

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