Follow the River

But not for long.

Opening my door and siding from the seat, leaving the engine still ru

A twinge of unease pricks at my brain, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. Who is on the plane?

It’s not…Ted…is it?

There’s no way Rain would be driving to the airport to pick up that fucking molester like he’s dropping by for a fatherly visit.

No, that’s not fucking possible. It would be a cold day in hell before that happened. Rain might not have given me all the details, but I saw the disdain in his eyes, heard the loathing laced with anguish in his husky voice when he spoke of his stepfather that night in our makeshift fort.

Hatred isn’t a strong enough word to describe the way Ciaráin Grady feels about Senator Theodore Anders. If I can be one hundred percent positive about anything when it comes to Rain, it’s that.

Speeding to a brisk walk, I close the distance between us. Distance I’m never going to allow to stay between us after this.

One way or a-fucking-nother, we’re hashing our shit out, here and now.

Half a football field to go, the door to the plane begins lowering to the ground, revealing a set of stairs leading to the plane’s interior.

Forty yards. Rain rises to his full height, taking a step toward the stairs.

Thirty yards. A form appears at the top of the stairs, clearly male, but hidden in the shadows still.

Twenty-five yards. Please don’t be that fucking bastard, or I swear to God, I won’t be leaving here unless it’s in a body bag or handcuffs.

Twenty yards…

My eyes must be playing tricks on me…because Roman fucking Mitchell steps from the shadows of the plane.

And my entire world collapses, the sky slamming into the surface of the Earth, and nothing, not even a cockroach, could manage to survive this level of desolation.

I’m frozen in place as, to my horror, Roman begins descending the stairs, looking like the rich prick he is, dressed in a navy suit and a light blue dress shirt, the top button undone and a navy tie hung loosely around his neck. But it isn’t his expensive look or his expertly styled hair that fracture my heart into thousands of pieces.

It’s the smile on his face, bright and white and fucking perfect, when his arms wrap around Rain with familiarity. And, if that weren’t bad enough, Rain returns the gesture, coiling his arms around Roman in return. As if they had just seen each other a couple days ago, rather than living the past four years in silence.

Four fucking years.

A hand punches through the flesh and bone of my chest, snatching my heart in its grip. Slowly, painfully fucking slow, the fist tugs and pulls and rips until my heart is yanked free from my chest. Because that’s when I realize…this is it. The end of the line.

We’re water and oil, and those two things never fucking mix. You have to accept that.

How could I have been so blind? Of course he was right. We don’t mesh.

From the very begi

It’s a means to an end, that’s it.

I never actually believed those words from him, I thought he was putting up a front, a wall aimed at keeping me out.

Except, as I watch Roman and Rain still locked in their embrace, it seems Rain really was keeping me at arm’s length, all while willingly using me as his guinea pig, his goddamn test dummy. And that is what he did. Used me to sort out his sexual preferences. He took hold of my mind, wormed his way into my heart, made me fall in-fucking-love with him. But like he said, only as a means to an end.

You were nothing more to me than a place to stick my cock. That’s all it ever was, and that’s all it will ever be.

My throat constricts, eyes blurring with unshed tears as I finally understand all I ever was…was a placeholder. Now that he has seemingly accepted himself, thanks to my help, why wouldn’t he be with the man he wanted desperately, the guy who knows him better than I could ever dream? Though it wasn’t for my lack of effort.

I shut everyone out! You’re nothing special! I don’t need you, River.

No Rain, clearly you don’t when you had someone else all along.

The gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be aching, pleading for the piece of me that’s now missing, I now know I’ll never get it back. Not fully. Still, my hand flies to my chest, rubbing absently over the space where my heart once lived as if to ease the pain.

After what seems like a million years and thousands of unshed tears on my part, Roman pulls away from Rain, one hand still on his upper arm, giving him a warm smile. His mouth moves, the words unintelligible from this distance, and he bites his lip at Rain’s response before letting out a throaty laugh.

My eyes fixate on the back of Rain’s head and the silky dark brown hair as I try to regulate my breathing, but it’s no use. I’ve never experienced a panic attack before in my life, but I think that is what this is.

Chest pain, labored breathing, nausea and dizziness.

Sure as hell sounds like a panic attack to me. That, or a heart attack.

Except I no longer have one of those.

Rain opens his body toward me, his hand motioning for Roman to hop into his Jeep, and it’s in that moment I’m finally spotted.

Two pairs of eyes snap to me instinctively, one I know to be the color of golden whiskey I’d recognize as well as my own. The other, a dark hazel green, so dark they’re almost black, as I learned from the images online that brought this whole mess upon us.

Roman glances between Rain and I before his eyes finally settle on Rain and he speaks. What he says, I couldn’t tell you, but whatever it is, Rain nods in response, his eyes never leaving me.

Tracking Roman’s movements with my gaze, he opens the back door of the Jeep, tossing in a bag I didn’t notice he was holding before climbing into the passenger side of the vehicle. Our stares lock once again through the windshield, and I hold his eyes, fighting to assert myself, even when it’s pointless.

Clearly, the line has already been drawn and I’m on the wrong side of it.

I know I should leave, walk back to my car with my head held high, let him realize on his own what he is missing out on. Swear on my life, I try.

But godfuckingdamnit, why can’t I make my feet move?

The minute Roman breaks our co

He. Is. Worth. It.

But apparently I’m not the only one who knows that, otherwise Roman wouldn’t be here, after all this time, attempting to make things work between them. No matter the pain it might cause me, the tension that will break us once again, Rain chose him. But in doing so, he will also turn us back into the people we were before we went to that cabin.