Page 59 of When The Rain Falls

"The girls love being woken up at 8:00 a.m. on a weekend," I mumble, staring gratuitously at the way her ass moves with her body. "You might want to consider wearing body armor."

I half-heartedly wrestle my body into a pair of jeans. I'm pulling a grey henley over my head when I hear a knock at my bedroom door.

"What?" I call out.

"How's it going in there?" Aimee asks as she opens the door and steps into my bedroom without waiting for me to invite her in. That was awfully bold of her. What if I was in my briefs? Or what if I was completely naked with my dick in my hand? Which was something that I only considered doing for half a second. The restraint I am capable of…

"Finn, no! You're not wearing that. Here, I'll help you." Thehelpcomment makes me snort. There's absolutely nothing helpful about this woman. She walks into my closet and begins rifling through my clothes. God. She's just touching all my things and egregiously violating my privacy.

Laurel was the last woman to be in that closet, I realize, for absolutely no reason at all. I shake the thought away. And now Aimee is in there.

"Does the pumpkin patch really have a dress code?" I ask dryly, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. Aimee ignores me.

"You look tired. Did you sleep?" she asks while flipping through the shirts in my closet. A panicked thought strikes me.I may have some dirty magazines in there.I mean, I haven't used them in ages. They're more of a relic from my collegeyears. They're probably vintage or something by now. But I don't remember where I last put them. I run my hands nervously up and down my thighs.

"How about you, do you ever sleep? Or do you get your energy from sucking life out of everyone around you?" I mean, that would explain why she has so much of it and why I have practically none.

"So funny," she says. She pulls out a blue button up shirt and examines it. "I bet this looks really nice with your eyes," she says as she puts it back. "You have some really nice work shirts." That's mostly because Laurel picked them out. Ten years ago, if not more. I find myself living in this weird reality. Where the present and the past keep colliding.

"Your closet is so organized,” she says. Her fingers trail across my suit jackets. Of course, it’s organized. It's a closet. Closets are supposed to be organized.

“I bet you never even have to dig for anything in here. You can just see everything you own at a glance."

"Are you telling me you can't?" I ask.

"I use the piles organization method,” she answers. I study her.

“Piles?”

“Yeah, this pile is dirty. This pile is clean. You know. Piles.”

“Fucking hell,” I murmur. “That’s disgusting.”

Aimee scans my closet until her face stops to rest on something in front of her. "Oooh! This is perfect," she cries, pulling down a blue and grey flannel shirt that I don't recognize. Again, probably from Laurel.

"It's supposed to be hot today,” I tell her, eyeing the offending shirt.

"It'll be breezy. It's always breezy," she explains. I groan and let myself fall backward into the mattress.

"Here." She walks over to me and tosses the shirt on my prone body.

I give her a scalding frown.

“Are you going to make me dress you, too?” she asks. “Because I’m not opposed to that.”

“Trust me, I know you aren’t,” I mutter as I sit up and pull my henley off my back. “Your favorite place to be is in my personal bubble.” Aimee begins to walk past me and I land a playful swat on her ass.

“What was that for?” Aimee scolds, but I can see in her eyes that she absolutely loved it.

“For waking me up at 8:00 a.m.,” I tell her as I slip my arms into the flannel. “For making me wear this ridiculously thick shirt,” I add. “And because I like touching your ass.”

“You sure you wouldn’t prefer arealass,” she sasses, propping a hand on her hip.

“Aimee, there’s nothing lacking about your ass. Trust me.” I think about pulling her lips into mine again, but that’s as far as I get when I hear footsteps coming down the hall.

"We're ready!" Vivian bursts into my room, catching me standing next to Aimee with my shirt unbuttoned. I wince, but she doesn’t seem to notice that anything is up, particularly, half my dick. "Dad, you’re coming, too? Yay!"

"Yay," I say sarcastically, working my buttons. The sarcasm masking what I truly feel. Because I can’t help but notice that this feels good. This feels right. This feels exactly like what was missing. Energy. Adventure. Something for us to do together. All of us. Almost like a normal, fucking family. Almost.

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