Page 11 of Into the Light

The world faded into insignificance as his gaze swept through the room, searching for an empty seat, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his steps. Then it happened. As if guided by an unseen force, his gaze locked onto mine. The world stood still, and shivers shot down my spine.

For the first time in eight long, agonizing months, I was looking into the eyes of the one person I had desperately needed for answers—the one person who shared the same torment and grief that had clawed its way into my soul. The one person who, I knew in my heart, wanted nothing to do with me.

“Rain . . .” I whispered. It had been so long, I almost forgot how related they looked even though they weren’t blood relatives.

Rain’s hesitant steps carried him closer, and he mumbled an apology to our professor as he passed her desk. His presence was a magnetic force, drawing him inexorably to the empty seat beside me.

He sat down, his gaze fixed resolutely ahead, not daring to meet mine. His jaw clenched with an unspoken tension, and his hands, hidden beneath the dark fabric of his hoodie, gripped the edges of the seat as if it were the only thing keeping him anchored in a turbulent sea.

Every fiber of my being ached with the desire to reach out to him, to demand answers, to vent my anger and pain, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. I wanted him to see the turmoil in my gaze, the resentment, and the questions left unanswered. I wanted him to know how he had left me shattered, how his silence had been a weight too heavy to bear.

As Rain sat there, avoiding my gaze, a silent storm raged between us. Emotions, raw and unspoken, hung heavy in the air, a chasm of hurt that neither of us knew how to bridge. As Evie continued to describe the class’s expectations, a speech I typically clung to at the start of every class, I stared at him.

His hair had grown longer, slicked back from his face, while his jawline sported a thicker stubble, and lines had etched deeper into his features. He seemed older, marked by the weariness that clung to him like a shadow.

A memory flashed before my eyes, the same fatigue etched on his face that night—the night everything changed.

“Rain,” I whispered, trying to be discreet. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the desk, then he lifted his chin, pretending to focus intently on the teacher’s words.

Normally, the old Ember would have taken the hint and let him be, but things were different. I had no patience for anyone’s nonsense.

“Rain,” I repeated, this time with more force.

A faint quirk danced on his lips, but he refused to look my way. Instead, he retrieved a notebook from his bag, feigning interest in taking notes.

Now, he was starting to irritate me. I reached into my bag, grabbed a notebook, and hastily scribbled him a message.

I tore the note from my pad and crumpled it into a small ball. My gaze shifted from the teacher to Rain, who continued to act insufferable. With careful precision, I launched the crumpled note toward his desk, where it landed squarely in his lap.

His eyes darted quickly in my direction, but he avoided meeting my gaze, instead focusing on the note he’d unfolded.

Evie approached Rain’s desk, her curiosity piqued. She picked up the crumpled note from his desk, glanced at it briefly, then, with a bemused expression, read it aloud.

The class erupted into laughter, including Rain, who couldn’t help but chuckle at the embarrassment thrust upon me.

Evie, after a hearty laugh, looked at both of us and said, “Well, it seems like you two need to work things out. You’re going to be partners on the only assignment. Maybe you’ll find some common ground.”

I buried my face in my hands, mortified by the attention, as Rain flashed a playful grin in my direction, then I shook my head and looked down.

Evie continued to tell us the basics of how our camera worked, and I spent the rest of class determined to catch up on what I had missed and attempt not to embarrass myself anymore.

When the bell rang and class was dismissed, Rain tucked the little note into his backpack and practically sprinted out of the classroom, pushing a few kids aside in his determination.

I wouldn’t chase him down though. If he wanted to act like the immature little ass he was being, then fine by me.

I slowly grabbed my things and realized Rain left his camera sitting on the desk. The first part of our assignment was due next week, so he’d probably need this before then. So I shoved it in my bag before heading upstairs.

Thankfully, the rain had stopped, so I walked back home, pleased to avoid anyone else and grateful that it was the start of the weekend.

“Please, come,” Marissa begged, standing in my living room on Saturday. I shook my head.

“No.” I laughed and fell onto the couch with her. Our friendship was something I cherished. It was a relief to have such an easygoing connection, a stark contrast to my strained relationship with Maddy, who hadn’t reached out to me or checked on me since I’d returned to Isles. Given the town’s small size, I was sure she’d heard something.

“I’m not going to a party at the Den tonight.” I wrinkled my nose, both at the thought of it and the fact Marissa was even suggesting it.

I am not going to a place where people hate me and where I will see Rain. He hadn’t made an effort to see me or even communicate with me, so I wouldn’t go out of my way to see him.

“I think it’s a good idea for you,” Marissa insisted. “Show the boys you don’t give a damn. Weren’t you close with a bunch of them before all of this?”

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