Page 67 of Forged in Rain

“I need to make some calls.”

He walks away stiffly, and I turn to Bastion, my brows raised. Bastion stares at me broodingly before muttering, “His dad is bad fucking news, but he’s right. Regardless of the circumstances, he’s been pulled in this direction since the beginning. The question is, why?”

Nodding, I stare at the door, fear curdling in my stomach. With every revelation, I’m more convinced someone is going to die. Can I live with myself if it’s Cyn? Or Bastion? Jig?

Fuck.

“Maybe I should leave,” I whisper so Cyn can’t hear.

Bastion gives me a piteous look and shakes his head. “He’ll never let you go, Rain. Besides, if McCafferty thinks you owe him money, there’s no place you can hide.”

Searching his grim expression, I come away both disturbed and relieved. While I don’t want to hurt any of them, I’m afraid, and knowing I’ve got someone on my side is everything.

Still, I saw the darkness behind Cyn’s eyes, and I worry about what this will do to him. Once again, it seems I’m trading one hell for another, and there’s no fucking end in sight.

“Come,” Jig says gruffly from the door. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Standing, I grab my crutches and follow, curious when instead of leading me to the stairs, where his room and the room Cyn stays in are, he leads me further into the bowels of the house.

“Jig?”

“Hm?”

“How come your parents are never here?”

His back stiffens, the only sign of his distress, before he says with a playful lilt, “They hate the ‘burbs.”

“Oh.” His silence fills the air with unwanted tension, and sensing once again his distress, I set it aside because maybe now isn’t the right time. But soon, because I need to know more about the guy who cares enough about me to defy Cyn.

At the second door down on the left, he pushes it open and steps back. Stepping through, I see a brilliant white bed against a wall. It’s enormous and dominates the room, beyond which is a set of French doors leading to the back patio.

Twin dressers flank the wall opposite beside a door that leads into a bathroom.

Hobbling to the bed, I sit down and glance around. “Was this someone’s room?”

“Naw, it’s the guest bedroom,” he says, sitting down beside me.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I stay here?”

“Rain?”

“Yeah?” I glance at his face, surprised when he uses my given name. I’ve become so used to his silly nicknames that the change is almost jarring.

“There’s no one who I’d rather be here,” he says simply, and my heart wrenches at the sincerity behind his brilliant blue eyes.

Smiling, I lean my head against his shoulder and relax when he puts his arm around me and squeezes.

“Hey,” Cyn says roughly from the door.

He looks terrible, his eyes dark, and his mouth set in a grim line. My stomach clenches when he looks between Jig and me coolly, and I smile tremulously when he says, “I have to go home. Veah . . .”

“Oh, of course.” I lick my dry lips and ease away from Jig, moving to stand.

“No,” Cyn mutters. “No need. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

With that, I sit stunned as he backs out the door and leaves without a hug or a fucking smile of reassurance.

Rubbing my face, I sigh. The closer I get to Cyn, the further apart it feels at times.

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