Page 47 of While the Sun Shines

Though until then, the long wait is as much of a balm as he’s found since he stumbled home last night, a blister working against his heel where the leather of his boot rubbed over raw, wet skin until each step flared with pain. And maybe this liminal time between night and the horrors facing him downstairs will continue to stretch—pull elastic and drawn out so he can linger here, hidden among his pillows and the sheet twisted over his legs.

But no, that’s not the gray light of dawn from the sun still slinking below the horizon. Drew pushes up on an elbow. Those are clouds. And sure enough, the scent of coffee wafts up the stairs, the pigs outside start calling for their breakfast, and it’s later than he might’ve guessed from the darkness still hanging over the barnyard.

Because it’s not early morning. It’s hours later, it’s just still dark, it’s—

Shit.

It’s raining.

Fat, heavy drops begin to fall, splattering against the windowpane. And then the breeze blows, shaking the branches of the maple trees and whipping rain against the house in a sharp staccato.

“No,” he whispers and the patter of rain answers, gusting a sheet of water across his window.

His door rattles in its frame with the rap of knuckles. “Drew?”

“No,” he says again, louder.

“No, not Drew?” Cooper slips into the room, pressing the door softly shut behind him. “Hi, yes, I’ve been sent on a mission to assess your panic level on a scale of one to blowing your lid.”

Drew drops back against his pillows. Grabs one, hauls it over his face, and groans into it.

Cooper lifts a corner and peeks at him. “I don’t know why I got the lucky vote, but I’m here to say: we all love you, we’re going to figure this out, and please don’t have a heart attack.”

“It’s raining.”

“Yep.”

“On the hay.”

“Sure is.”

“It’s ruined.” Drew rolls onto his side, away from Cooper.

Cooper sits on the edge of the mattress. And then, because he’s Cooper, lies down. “I’m here to make you feel better. Now come on, a little rain on your parade is survivable, right?”

“It’s not. We just lost an entire field of hay.”

Cooper scoots over to him, all knees and elbows. Settles right behind him too and spoons up to his back. Another day, Drew would roll his eyes. Kick at him, twist away, refuse to be cuddled, and make a crack about Cooper being a taken man—what if Whit saw? Drew’s flattered, thanks, but no.

“Get out of my bed,” is all he manages, his mumble half-hearted.

Cooper squeezes him. “Hey, at least I’m on top of the covers. And we’ve got you, man. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Why the fuck is it raining?”

“When two clouds love each other special, they give each other a hug—” Cooper laughs at his own joke. “Nah, I dunno, Whit turned on the news and the weather dude is stumped too. It was just supposed to be cloudy this morning and now it’s fucking pouring.”

“My life is falling apart.”

“Really just the baler.”

Drew shoves his face into the pillow. “The fucking baler.”

“Whit got the welder out. It’s gonna be okay.”

Great: yet again, Whit and Cooper are already picking up the pieces of Drew’s latest mess while he wallows in bed. He probably should just get used to that, creating disasters wherever he goes, and the two of them coming behind to set things right again.

Well, maybe they can help with Penny too. Figure out a way for her to simply forget the last eighteen hours. While they’re at it, they could scrub it from Drew’s mind as well. Yeah, that’d be better—hit rewind on his life and have a do-over of yesterday. Hell, this entire week. The last four years since Uncle Bert drove away.