Page 93 of When The Rain Falls

“Are you serious right now?” Anger builds like a blister under my skin. Growing larger and heavier until I worry it might burst. And then it does burst. It bursts and oozes out. It oozes into my tone and my clenched fists. Because I can’t believe anyone would do something to make him feel this way. Are people really that shitty?

Yes. They are. I know from experience, too. The tears start to fall again. And they are for both him and for me.

“Bear, I wantnames,” I demand. “The name of every girl who has ever left you over this. Because I am not above kicking some asses. I will kick asses all week if I have to. I will burn down houses, and smash mailboxes, and?—"

Finn takes my clenched fists and uncurls it. He raises my hand to his mouth and brushes his lips across the back of my knuckles.

“I’m not kidding. I have ways to make peoplehurt.I will pussy punch each one of them,” I exclaim.

“Aimee.” He consoles me by just saying my name. Quells my anger with his steady voice. He pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms all the way around me and draws me in tight. “It’s fine,darling,” he whispers into my ear. “It’s cute seeing you get all worked up for me. But let it go.”

I should be focusing on him. On his moment. On his hurt. But my heart is fluttering wildly.

Darling.

A word that used to make me want to lose my lunch now lives forever in my soul. Ingrained there. Like Finn just took a knife and permanently etched it inside me. I’m someone’s darling? And not just someone’s darling,Finn Hudson’sdarling.

I lean my head against his chest.

“You didn’t have to lie to me,” I say.

A soft kiss in my hair is his only answer.

“You could have told me. I wouldn’t have left,” I assure him.

“You don’t know that.” His voice is resigned, but calm.

“Look at me, bear.” I take his face in my hands. “Look. I’m here. And I’m not leaving.”

We sit together in a soothing, comfortable silence. His heart pounding warmly against my cheek as his hands run through my hair. I don’t dare move. I don’t dare do anything to break the enchantment encircling us.

Finn is the first one to break the spell. “Aimee…” My name is a question on his lips. And his tone is gruff. “Who did that to you? Who made you think you were a toy to be played with and tossed away?” He sighs and it’s full of sorrow and regret. “Other than me?”

I think back to all the men in my life. Men I’d pick up at bars. Or meet online. I loved it at first. All the attention. I let them chase me. Ply me with drinks. Lead me to the dance floor. Grind against my leg. And then at the end of the night, I’d let them take me home. I bet I could count on one hand how many of them actually cared about my name. Most of them only asked because it’s the expected first step. The first step towards their singularly focused end-goal.

“No one specific person,” I admit. “Just everyone. Maybe it was my fault. I let them. Let them treat me like the kind of girl you don’t date. The kind you just play with.”

“You’renotthat kind of girl,” he whispers. His words fall like soothing rain over a raw burn. “Aimee, stay over.” He nuzzles his face against mine. “But not like that,” he continues. “Stay over and let me hold you. And in the morning, I’ll still be holding you. And you’ll see that you’re not that kind of girl.”

One thing became very clear to me in this moment. He needs me. And I need him. I need his kind words. His affection. I need the sense of belonging that I’m finding right here. In the arms of a man who called me darling.

My whole life, I’ve been skimming along the surface, where it’s sunny, and warm, and light. Always running from the slightest hint of pain and hurt. But Finn lives in the depths, where love and grief seem to coexist. He’s shown me what life is like below the surface. I’m attracted to his depths in the same way he’s attracted to my light.

So that night, I fall asleep against a firm chest. Tucked safely between two strong arms. And I sleep more snugly than I’ve ever slept in all my life.

32HEY THERE, GORGEOUS

FINN

I haven’t wokenup this hard since I was seventeen and tacked a swimsuit poster to my ceiling. Which makes me cringe now. Not that it was there long; Mom threw it out the minute she saw it.

Aimee’s got one hand on my chest and one cheek smooshed up against my arm. Her lips are pressed together against my skin, forming a delicate bow. I rest my hand over hers and slip a thumb beneath her palm, tracing her soft palm lines. I focus on nothing but the gentle rising and falling of her chest beside me.

Nine years.

It’s been nine years since I woke up like this. Next to a supple, warm body. In a wash of comfort. I blink back the water gathering in my eyes.

Last night she fell asleep quickly. With my arms drawn tightly around her. But sleep eluded me entirely. I haven’t felt this much peace in years. And I didn’t want to waste it sleeping. I found myself daydreaming at 3:00 a.m. Daydreaming about her. Daydreaming about what my life could be like if I wasn’t so fucked up. I was daydreaming when I should have beenactuallydreaming.

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