Page 131 of Downpour

“I hope so,” she whispered.

Every morning I woke up, that old saying about ashes to ashes and dust to dust floated in my mind. We were little more than skin and bones; just temporary vessels on a finite timeline.

Every morning, I’d open my eyes and inhale for eight seconds, then exhale for another eight seconds. Every breath reminded me that my life had changed in the blink of an eye. But in the finite time between ashes and dust, I was determined to find a greater purpose for the next breath than I had with the last.

Falling in love felt like the most profound breath I would ever take.

Brooke sat under the downpour as I washed away the smoke and ash from her body, and then my own.

It had been my experience that trials brought clarity. Brooke’s words reminded me of how true that was.

It broke my heart that she was hurting. I wanted to take away her pain. But her confessions of wanting my family, wanting to be a part of the Griffith legacy, and wanting to be with me was everything I had ever wanted.

Together, we finished rinsing off, dried ourselves, and slowly made our way to bed.

My sparse bedroom had begun to show signs of life. That damn love plant with its one pitiful bloom still sat in the window. A bag of candy I had started to sort was on my bedside table. Brooke’s pillows were wedged against mine. On her nightstand, there was a book she had started.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as we crawled under the sheets and wrapped our arms around each other.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to rain,” she said, yawning.

“I like the rain,” I said, kissing her goodnight and pulling her closer to my side.

Brooke rested her head on my chest. “Why is that?”

“It’s a reset. Tomorrow, we can go outside. The grass will be greener, the air clearer, and the pond higher. Sometimes, life needs to pause. And sometimes, it takes something beyond our control to make that happen.”

“You’re poetic,” she said, resting her head on my chest. “I would have never guessed that about you when we first met months ago.”

I chuckled. “I had plenty of months to think.” I kissed the top of her head. “Not all of those thoughts were positive. You should be glad you weren’t here during those months. They were dark.”

Her fingers danced across my chest, tracing abstract patterns. “Your darkness doesn’t scare me.”

I pulled her on top of me so that we were chest to chest. Brooke’s knees straddled my hips and she rested her head on my shoulder.

“How could it scare you? Light is never afraid of darkness.” I pressed my lips to her head. “But you know what?”

“What?”

I interlaced my fingers with hers and brought her hand to my lips. “The moon reflects the sun and stores its energy until the moment comes when the sun cannot be seen. During the moments when you can’t find your light, I’ll be here to give it back to you.”

I woke up the next morning with Brooke still straddling my torso. Her gentle breaths were soft and steady.

“I know you’re staring at me,” she said.

“Can’t help it.” I kissed her head. “But you gotta get off me. You have to get to work, and I have to get to PT.”

“I still feel bad about not taking you. I’m?—”

“Not on my payroll anymore,” I reminded her. “Besides, I told Bree she could take me into town. She’s gotta get thirty hours of driving time before she can get her license.”

“Do I have to face Cassandra today? Or is there a chance she’ll have something else to do all day?”

I chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll get that lucky. But I’ll go with you to the office before Bree picks me up.”

She pecked my lips. “Deal.”

Brooke wiggled into a pair of navy shorts while I got the coffee started. By the time we were dressed and caffeinated, it was a quarter till eight, and someone was knocking on the door.

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