Page 23 of Into the Light

Rain smiled and sagged in his booth, which made our knees touch, and I jolted before leaning into it.

“I met him when I was little, in elementary school. He was so structured. I thought it was so weird because it wasn’t how it was at my house.”

I thought I remembered something that Ash had said about Rain’s dad, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

Quickly changing the subject, he said, “You know Ash was always . . . sad.”

I shook my head. “What do you mean?”

“His dad ran the house like it was the military. Ash had to make his bed every morning at zero five hundred before going to school. In high school, he was forced to attend meetings with Mr. Ortiz after school, so he didn’t have any time for friends or extracurricular activities.”

“That’s terrible.” I sighed, imagining what a dreadful life that must have been, especially for a teenager.

“He was essentially forced to grow up too fast. Things improved when my mom and I came into the picture, but my mom was a . . .” Rain ran his hands through his hair. I gave him space, letting the silence linger, unwilling to fill it with unnecessary words.

After a moment, he continued, “She let Mr. Ortiz control her, so she liked the structure. It made her feel secure.”

“Are they still together?” I inquired.

“They got married last winter.”

“Oh, wow . . .”

“I know. Me, too.”

“Was Ash happy?” I asked, secretly hoping for a different answer.

“No, Em.” He rolled his lips, like he wanted to tell me more, but he seemed forlorn, staring out the window.

“Were you?” I inquired. Rain locked eyes with me, and for a moment, I felt lost in the deep-blue pools. He seemed surprised by my question.

“Yeah, I think I was pretty chill. Mr. Ortiz never bothered me much, so I kind of became a wallflower, lost in books.”

“Do you reread often?” I asked, changing the subject to something lighter. Readers often debated whether you should reread books or only read them once.

“Hell yeah. I have some serious comfort reads. When I need an escape, I pick them up.”

I laughed, nodding.

As our food and milkshakes arrived, I put everything on an extra plate for Rain. “I’ve never had anyone share with me. I kind of blended in too much, I guess. People often didn’t notice I was around.”

“I always noticed you, Rain,” I admitted, taking a bite of my burger. What came out of my mouth next was a shock, as if my brain hadn’t processed it. “Even when you watched me during the initiation, I was watching you, too.”

Rain’s cheeks flushed, and he took a bite of his burger, trying to avoid the conversation. I chuckled.

“Did you guys ever share?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. Rain twisted his lips into a frown, then paused before responding.

“Never,” he stated. “I don’t share what’s mine. I never will.”

“But what if you get a girlfriend this year? Won’t you have to do the initiation?” Rain put his food down and leaned over the table, getting closer.

“Never. I don’t care how much trouble it might cause; I will never share what is mine . . . ever.”

Oh no, there was absolutely no denying the fact I felt something . . . down there. It was unexpected, catching me off guard. For a moment, I didn’t even think of Ash, the grief, or the complicated situation we were in. All I could focus on was the intensity in Rain’s eyes, the confident declaration of ownership, and the undeniable attraction that had surged between us.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment and desire as I tried to regain my composure. I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat, attempting to hide my reaction. “Well, I-I admire your determination,” I said.

Rain’s gaze lingered, a knowing and almost mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’m a man of my word, Ember,” he said, his voice low and filled with an underlying promise that sent another wave of heat through me.

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