Page 85 of When The Rain Falls

“It was redesigned a few years later,” he continues, “andthenit was hit by a major earthquake. And after that ominous start, well, it’s still here.” I can’t help but notice he reminds me of thebridge, sturdy, and strong, and enduring. “Most recently, they built that second bridge right alongside it.”

I take in the twin bridges, their tall towers, their gracefully sloping tension cables. I note how they’re standing tall together, side by side. Enduring heavy winds, crashing waves and all kinds of temperatures.

“This bridge is goddamn resilient.” Finn’s voice contains a hint of awe. And before I know it, we’re swaying. His arms rocking me side to side. The morning stubble on his neck bristling against my skin. Finn’s gaze flicks down at me before it darts away again. And then the swaying stops.

Iwant to be resilient. With all my confused, lost, broken heart. I want to be resilient. I want to take life’s punches over and over and still be standing. I want to rise above my past. I want to be so tall that I can see into the future. I want my foundation to be settled so deep into the ground that no angry, rushing tide will be able to wash me away.

Too bad Finn’s mere proximity makes me feel so damn weak.

"Hey, don’t you have a race coming up?” he asks, loosening his squeeze around my torso. I’m surprised he remembered. I told him about it the day he helped me carry boxes into Alicia’s house. And so much has happened since then.

“Yeah, next week. At Mt. St. Helens.”

“Mt. St. Helens?” he asks. I nod.

“That’s far. Who’s driving you?”

I try not to roll my eyes. Because obviously, I’m driving myself. Because who else? And way to rub it in. “Me,” I tell him, trying to sound completely unaffected by the sentiment.

“Helens is far, Aimee. Several hours. Shouldn’t there be someone to drive you home? Especially after you run all those miles.”

“I’m used to it.” I shrug and try to bite back the hint of sorrow creeping up my esophagus. “Running’s a solo sport. That’s thewhole reason I started. My best friend, well, she started to have other priorities.” I rest my head against his chest and let myself slump against him. I hate how comfortable I feel with him. “I was getting restless. I needed an activity I could do alone. Something just for me,” I explain. I swallow hard and try to hide the slight tremble in my chin. Finn’s hand is caressing my back now. The friction warms me to my toes.

“I kept hoping she’d see how much I liked it and join me for a race. Or even come hang out and wait for me at the finish line,” I sigh. It comes out more exaggerated than I had intended. “Lots of people have someone waiting at the finish line. I always thought it would be nice. At least once. To have her waiting for me. I don’t even know why I still run. Spending all this time alone on the roads and trails just makes me feel lonely. But here I am. Still doing it.”

“That’s called tenacity,” Finn whispers in my ear. I almost can’t hear the words over the whipping of the wind.

“Being alone and pathetic is tenacity?” I scoff. He really must think I’m stupid.

“Forging on is.” I feel his fingers in my hair now. There’s something almost admiring in his voice. “Not quitting. Adapting. When things get hard.”

“Then what do you call hitting your head against the same wall over and over again? Persistence? Look at that idiot, at least she’s persistent.”

Finn doesn’t respond to that. But it may be because the wind has grown more violent around us. It slaps against my head and forces more strands of my hair loose. My hair whips wildly around my face until I can barely see. And then a large hand appears, parting the curtain of tendrils and smoothing them back down the side of my face. He uses both hands to secure the ends into a ponytail at the nape of my neck with a gentle fist.

The touch is simple, yet so intimate that my breath stops for a moment. The gesture lifts my chin towards his face. And I can’t avoid his direct gaze. He studies me. His eyes bouncing across my face. I resist the urge to lean closer. To take his mouth in mine.

It’s almost a perfect moment. The world bustles around us, but we’re so still. The wind catches our clothes, like open sails on the ocean. Traffic rushes by. Seagulls squawk in the distance. Sea lions bark. The smell of salt permeates the air. But we’re just here. Wrapped in each other. And also trapped. Finn, because he’s thinking of someone who’s no longer here. And me, thinking of someone who is right in front of my face, but couldn’t be farther away.

Is he thinking about her right now? Is he looking at me and seeing her eyes? Her smile? Her face? Am I that forgettable? That someone can use my face as a blank canvas where they can project all the things they really want to see?

The piercing clang of a bike bell knocks us back to attention. And that’s when I see it. The very reason we’re here. I tilt my face and nod to the sky where a stroke of orange is cracking across the horizon. Vibrant and wild. Off in the distance, the familiar outline of Mt. Rainier appears.

“Look. There,” I announce. I watch the orange rays grow bolder until all of Mt. Rainier is bathed in color. I watch the sky change colors, from orange to purple to pink. For several minutes, I watch the sunrise. But the entire time, I feel him watchingme.

Why is he watching me?

The cold of the wind finally catches up to me and I feel myself shivering, even within the cocoon of his strong arms.

“Come on, Aimee. Let’s go," Finn says softly. His fingers teasing the sleeve of my shirt. "Before you freeze."

"But that would require me to let go of you,” I whine. “And it's too cold." The words sneak out between chattering teeth.

"On the count of three,” he says solemnly. “We let go of each other and run to land. Ok?" I nod into his chest. And he starts counting. "One. Two." The very corner of his mouth twists up. He raises an eyebrow and pauses. I feel his body tense just before he shouts, “Three!”

At that, we peel back from each other and take off running back towards land.

"Catch me," I screech, pumping my legs as fast as they will go, freeing myself from the chill that’s settled over my body.

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