Page 27 of After the Rain
“I just don’t want you to think of Rain differently. But suffice it to say that he’s been through the fucking wringer. The last few days,he’s been talking about reaching out to his friend Corey. They were stuck in similar situations by all accounts with the cunt and his brother. He wants to check on Corey and ultimately try to help him get away if that’s what he wants. But he doesn’t want to risk texting him in case one of those two arseholes is monitoring his phone.”
“What the fuck? They’d do that?” Cole asks.
“I’m not sure, maybe? He’s a possessive, violent prick who thinks Rain is his property. He’s lost control of him, and I can’t imagine that will have gone down well.”
“Who the fuck is this dude? Is he like some mobster or something?” Archer asks incredulously. I shake my head, frustrated at not knowing the answer to his question.
“I have no idea. But he’s a manipulative, violent prick who nearly killed Rain. He only got away because he snuck out while the shithead was passed out on drugs and booze right after he…” My voice shakes with the memories of the confession Rain made to me in Poppy’s café. The thought of my sweet, beautiful Rain being abused like that, assaulted like that, makes a fucking red mist descend. If I ever catch sight of that arsehole in a darkened alley, he’d better hope he’s as strong as he thinks he is. I doubt it, though, seeing as he seems to enjoy targeting people smaller than him.
The lads are all shaking their heads in disbelief at the situation that Rain has managed to extricate himself from.
“Honestly,” Sam says, “knowing how bad things were for him, the fact that Rain had the balls and the will to get himself out of that situation, makes me respect the absolute shit out of him. I mean, imagine if this dude had caught Rain on his way out. Who knows what would have happened.” I shudder at the thought. All of a sudden, I recognise the familiar tingling in my fingers; I feel hot and then cold sweep through my body, and my breaths get shallow. The panic that rises in my chest at the thought that I could have never met Rain – he could have been just another name or statistic in the paper – guts me.
Nash, Archer, and Cole all catch my rising panic, and this time I can’t stop my breathing from escalating. They sit up and start to move in unison. Nash kneels in front of me, Archer and Cole wrap an arm around my shoulders, one on each side. In my peripheral vision, I notice Sam and Chris move out of the way and sit quietly while my brothers guide me through a panic attack. They haven’t had to do this for ages. Since Rain arrived, he’s only had to do it a couple of times. But the thought of him not being here. Of him not beinganywhere,is too much for me to accept.
It takes several minutes until my breathing calms down after Nash talks me through naming five things I can see, four that I can hear and so on. When I can breathe normally, Sam leans in to pat me on the back while Chris passes me a bottle of water from the cooler we brought with us. I nod at him gratefully.
“Sorry,” I begin.
“Hey. None of that,” Cole says, still wrapped around me.
“You don’t apologise for feeling anxious about this, mate,” Sam says.
“What can we do?” Chris asks, his tone fervent, and I know that he, and all the others, truly do want to know what they can do to help. Once again, I am floored with gratitude for these men. They are the best brothers and friends I could have asked for.
“I don’t know, really. I guess just, please, just keep an eye out for Rain? I don’t want him to feel like he’s being watched, but I can’t watch over him 24/7. I just need to know that he’s OK.”
“Fuck, bro, you don’t even have to ask. We’ve got you. And your guy.” Nash’s reassuring ‘older brother’ voice is exactly what I need right now.
“Thanks, guys. Honestly, thanks. I just, fuck, I love him so much, and if he gets hurt, I can’t promise that I won’t go full on scorched earth.”That breaks the tension, and the guys all laugh as they release me with a few final reassuring back slaps.
“In the meantime, we’ll have a think about how Rain can reach out to Corey to make sure he’s OK.” Cole’s words resonate with everyone, and we return to our fishing rods, quieter now than before, as we all try to come up with a solution.
A few hours later, I pull up outside Poppy’s in my Land Rover and pip the horn to let him know I’m here. Chris hops out with another quiet word of encouragement. The solution that the lads and I came up with on the boat this afternoon regarding Corey is at the forefront of my mind. It feels like it could work. Fuck. I hope it works.
However, watching Rain stumble out of the door with Wren wrapped around his arm while Chris holds the door, I know that no conversations about Corey will be happening tonight. Chris shakes his head in amusement at me over the tops of Rain and Wren’s heads as they approach my car, and I grin back at him in resignation. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier to be the one who Rain trusts to take care of him when he’s worse for wear like this. Wren, on the other hand, she’s been milking lifts and hangover careout of me for years. They both pile into the back seat, giggling like school children. Rain is wobbly as he leans forward over my seat to kiss me on my cheek. He misses and ends up with his tongue in my ear, but when he whispers to me, his words bring a warm glow to my heart.
“Thanks for picking me up, love of mine. I love you.” His words sound more likeIlubwoo,but I’m not calling him on it. Instead, I chuckle and reply.
“I love you, too, baby. You ready for bed?”
“Always. If you’re there with me.”
“Grossssss,” Wren complains from the back seat. Rain giggles and settles back in his seat, and I smile to myself as I drive them back to my – our – home like a bloody taxi driver.
Twenty-One
Rain
My head is throbbing when I come to wakefulness. The two bottles of red wine last night had seemed like a good idea, but on reflection, I think we may have been a bit overzealous. I haven’t had more than one – maybe two – glasses in a night since I arrived in Fenside Common. And before that? I hadn’t drunk alcohol for almost two years, needing to stay alert and aware in Dan’s presence so I could read his moods and act accordingly. Usually, that meant some combination of meek, mild-mannered, or compliant.
The sick feeling in my stomach rolls over at the memory, and despite my best efforts, I know I’m not going to be able to hold the bile in. I jump out of bed and rush to the bathroom, landing hard on my knees in front of the toilet before emptying my stomach of its contents. Ugh. Hangovers.
After a minute, I hear footsteps padding up the stairs. I can tell by their cadence that it’s Aidan, and a small smile forms on my lips. It’s quickly gone, though, as my stomach revolts again at the volume of red wine I consumed.
I jump a little when a cool pressure lands on the back of my neck before I realise that Aidan has pressed a damp flannel to my flushed skin. I’m so embarrassed by myself, but I feel altogether too rotten to care. Aidan croons soft words at me as he gently rubs my back and mops my sweaty neck before rinsing the cloth out and moving to wipe my forehead as well. He hands me a glass of water that he pulls out of nowhere and sits down behind me, pulling me back to lean on his strong frame. I pant, out of breath from swallowing the whole glass of water after the first few tentative sips thankfully didn’t trigger my stomach again.
“You OK, baby?” I pull my legs up to my chest and twist so I’m curled up against him, and then he pulls me up so my arse is off the floor and settles me on his warm lap. I sigh like a baby koala clinging to its mother for dear life. I feel like that’s what I’m doing. Clinging to Aidan for dear life to prevent myself from drowning in a shame spiral of regret, humiliation, and Cabernet Sauvignon.
