Page 28 of Through the Storm

KATY

The rain doesn’t start until we’re halfway back to my house.

At first, it’s just a few drops, tapping against the windshield like an afterthought. The kind of rain you assume will pass.

Yoga was fun. We laughed the whole time. And lunch was amazing. Easy. Just joking about stupid things. The kind of normal that sneaks up on you and makes you forget about your problems.

By the time Ben pulls up to the curb, it’s coming down harder.

“I can run.” I’m already reaching for the door.

“No.” He catches my arm. “I’ll walk you. I don’t want you to fall.”

He grabs his sweatshirt and tries to cover me with it, but it’s useless. We’re soaked by the time we make it to the porch, laughing despite ourselves, hair damp, clothes clinging.

Then we stop. The rain smells the same.

Memory has absolutely no chill.

“Remember your first bonfire?” Ben asks quietly.

My fingers freeze around my purse.

I look at him, rain streaking down his face, and my breath catches in a way that still feels unfair. “It’s one of my favorite memories. Ever.”

Something shifts in his expression.

“Katy,” he says, and there’s no joking left now. He looks wrecked. “I’m so sorry.”

I let out a short breath. “You don’t get to say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it fixes anything.” My voice shakes, but I don’t stop. “You don’t get to show up now, acting like this, when you ignored me. It was my first time, Ben.”

“I know.” His voice stays steady. “I should’ve been there.”

“You should’ve called. Or texted. Or done literally anything.”

“I know.”

“We don’t even know if this baby is yours,” I add, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I wasn’t lying when I said there are other possible fathers. I was so hurt, I kind of went a little crazy. You don’t get to act like this is…”

“I wasn’t,” his voice softens.

I look at him, rain clinging to his lashes, anger and want tangled together so tightly it makes me dizzy.

We’re too close.

I don’t remember stepping forward. I just know his hands are suddenly on my waist, warm and familiar, like they never forgot where they belonged.

I kiss him.

Or maybe he kisses me.

It’s desperate and amazing and it completely wrecks me in half a second.

Then I pull back. If he didn’t want me then, how can he want me now?