Page 49 of Through the Storm

“Why didn’t you take an umbrella? You’re going to get pneumonia,” I call after him.

He laughs over the sound of the storm. “Careful, Katy. You sound like you care about me.”

I fold my arms, trying not to smile. “Maybe I do.”

He takes a few steps closer, stopping at the edge of the porch where the gutter overflows in a thin waterfall.

“You always have,” he says quietly. “Haven’t you?”

“Of course I have, you idiot,” I confess with a small smile.

The smell of rain makes everything feel too familiar. I really look at him, and the years between then and now blur until I see the boy from that bonfire night who pulled me into the rain when everyone else ran for cover.

“We somehow always end up in the rain.” I laugh softly.

His mouth twitches. “I remember dancing with you. I practically had to force you.”

“You did. I was so nervous that night.”

“I made you laugh anyway.”

Something in his voice cracks me open.

He steps closer, until the rain from the edge of the roof hits his shoulders but not mine.

“It really is my favorite memory,” I confess. “Not because of the party. Because of you.”

His eyes soften instantly.

I swallow hard.

He holds out his hand, rain running down his wrist and over his knuckles.

“Katy,” he says softly. “Dance with me.”

I almost laugh. I almost say no.

But his hand stays there. Patient and certain.

So I take it. I step off the porch and into the rain.

The rain is cool and steady, soaking through my dress in seconds. He pulls me in, one arm around my back, careful of the curve of my belly.

We sway there, lost in each other while the storm rages around us. And suddenly all the fear inside me feels quieter.

He feels like home.

“This is my new favorite memory,” I whisper.

He smiles against my temple. “Mine too.”

“I’m sorry, Katy.” His voice is low and rough.

I pull back just enough to look at him.

“I told myself I was doing the right thing after that night,” he says. “That you deserved freedom. That I was going to enter the draft, and you were just starting your life, and I had no business asking you to factor me into any of it.” He exhales. “And all of that was true.”

“But it was also easier than admitting I didn’t know what to do with how much you mattered to me. You’ve always been so far out of my league, Katy. I knew you’d figure that out eventually. I just didn’t want to be standing in front of you when you did.”