Raining Down Release (Raining Down Series Book 3)

by BK Rivers

  “You’ve been really quiet,” Stacey says when we pull away from Reggie’s house. “Is everything okay?”

  My jaw clenches as I lie to her and nod, still walking into the darkness. I’m familiar with the dark, comfortable with being alone, and don’t want company. Duke whines from the back of the SUV, most likely sensing my bad mood. I ignore him, ignore Stacey’s pleading eyes, and focus on driving her home. When I finally pull into her driveway, I move to get out of the SUV, but she shakes her head, opens her door, and climbs out. She grabs her bag from the backseat, shuts the door, and turns her back to me. I watch her walk to the front door, pull out the keys, and step inside the house that started it all.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m stepping inside Ethan’s house with Duke at my heels. I take him outside, let him do his business, then put him in his crate. Right now, everything feels so heavy, it’s pushing on me, dragging me down, and I need to punch my way through it. Quickly changing into some basketball shorts and tearing off my shirt, I take the basement steps two at a time until I’m face to face with the small punching bag hanging from the ceiling.

  Over and over and over I punch at it, gritting my teeth, hissing as the skin on my knuckles crack, not caring about the pain I’ll feel tomorrow. This is a pain I can handle, a pain I crave because I don’t have to feel the damn fissure in my chest where the hurt I’ve caused someone else is breaking me even more than I already am.

  I. Don’t. Punch. Want. Punch. Any. Of. Punch. This. Punch.

  This hurt and this pain. And this freaking beating heart that is betraying everything I’ve shut down for so long. I just want some peace and to be free of the guilt that’s burning me at both ends.

  “Ace!” Ethan steps around me, grabs the punching bag, and stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. Maybe I’m just as crazy and depressed as Marley was. God. What if I’m just like her?

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asks, grabbing my wrists and holding up my hands. My bloody, swollen hands. I glance from my hands to the bag with shock. There’s blood all over the bag and splattered on the wall. It looks like a crime scene.

  “I need to blow off some steam,” I say, yanking my wrists from Ethan’s grip. “I also want to get drunk. You in?” Ethan shakes his head and follows me up the stairs. “I’m going to go clean up and then you and I are going out.”

  Thirty minutes later, I’ve showered and cleaned up my hands the best I can and wrapped them in sterile gauze and tape. So punching the bag without wrapping up my hands first wasn’t the smartest idea. But I feel a little better, so there’s that.

  “Ready?”

  Ethan’s sitting on the couch, still in sweats and a t-shirt. He turns to look at me, shakes his head again, and puffs out a breath.

  “You’re not going out and getting drunk. You can go do that next week like you do every year. But tonight, you’re going to sit here and get your head on straight. Because right now, I’m pretty damn worried about you.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, lying again as I sit on the couch with a sigh.

  “You’re about as fine as a dog with two legs. What the hell is the matter with you?” Ethan crosses his arms over his chest and waits for me to spill everything.

  “Look,” I say with a shrug. “I slept with Stacey and it was a mistake. It’s messing with my head and it was stupid of me to get mixed up with her.” My bottom lip trembles as I admit yet another truth.

  “Why was it a mistake? Jesus, Ace.” Ethan groans, runs his hands through his hair, and glares at me. “The only thing messing with your head is your own damn mind. I see how you look at her, I know you don’t really believe being with her was a mistake.”

  “Yes, it was. She makes me feel things I don’t want to feel. Things I shouldn’t feel. I don’t deserve any of this with her.”

  “So you’re just going to screw her and then tell her sorry for making the biggest mistake of your life? Is that your plan?” Ethan stands up, strides into the kitchen, and opens the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a beer and returns to the couch.

  “You know what?” He hands me the bottle of Jack Daniels and continues. “Screw you. I’m done trying to get you to see how good this girl is for you. If you can’t see it, then you don’t freaking deserve her. Hell, you can even drown your ass in alcohol for all I care. The bottle’s all yours.”

  Ethan twists the cap off his beer bottle and drinks until it’s gone. I stare at the bottle of whiskey, trying to figure out how I’m going to forget about Stacey and the way she makes my heart beat like it’s only beating for her.

  Chapter 33

  Stacey

  I refused to cry when I got home. If I cried, another piece of my heart would break, and I’m afraid I don’t have enough pieces left to believe love exists. Or that I’m capable of being loved by someone else. God, I’ve tried. I let myself foolishly believe Ace could love me, but maybe he was telling me the truth.

  But where does that leave me?

  Where does that leave Ace?

  It’s stupid of me to hope for something different, because if he’s proven anything, it’s that he can’t handle a relationship. And I can’t handle being only friends.

  Work drags on each day and when I go home, sleep eludes me. After sending two texts to him, both of which have been unanswered, I want to curl up in bed and never leave. What I need instead is someone to talk some sense into me. I need my best friend, and a phone call will have to do for now.

  I dial her number, and when she answers, I nearly break down.

  “Hey, Stace, what’s up?” she asks, her voice chipper and carefree.

  I sigh into the line, blink away the tears stinging my eyes, and fall into my pillow. “I’m not doing so good, Reggie.” It hurts to admit it, to say out loud that something is wrong.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “It’s nothing like that, I’m fine. My heart just hurts.”

  “Oh, Stacey. What happened? You guys seemed really good when you were here.”

  Unloading what I know of Ace’s history as well as our rocky time together never felt so good. Tears are shed as I recall the good he told me about his wife and how they were high school sweethearts. I know he loved her, he still loves her, and losing her like he did must have been awful. His hurt still feels raw and tender even though it’s been five years. Add me into the mix and he probably feels like he’s flopping around like a fish out of water.

  “What do I do, Reggie? I love him but I don’t know if it’s enough.” My tears are slowly stopping as I listen to Reggie sigh on the other end of the phone.

  “Give him some time, Stacey. Given all you’ve told me, he’s dealing with some pretty heavy stuff, things he obviously hasn’t dealt with yet,” she says, her advice helping to calm my nerves. “He has feelings for you—that much was clear while you were here.”

  “What if I don’t hear from him again? He hasn’t answered my texts.” My chin begins to tremble as the tears threaten to release again. I wipe them away with my fingers and hold my chin with my hand.

  “You need to understand what he’s going through. Put yourself in his shoes and realize he may not come around. You need to stay strong and be able to move on. You’re an amazing person, Stacey. Don’t become that girl who shuts down or changes because of a man.” Truth, it’s all I ever get from my best friend. As much as I love her for it, sometimes I want the everything’s going to be okay speech. Right now, that’s what I want to hear.

  “Thanks, Reggie,” I say, trying to hide the disappointment causing my voice to waver. We talk a while longer before she tells me Jordan, Micah, and she are flying back to Phoenix for a week to visit Jeremy and Emily. They’ve just had their baby and invited them to visit. When we hang up, I find a bottle of wine in the fridge and pour myself a glass. One glass, and then my little pity party will be over.

  On my way to work, I grab a caramel macchiato from my favorite drive-thru coffee shop and head into the center of
the city to the bookstore. As I park in the designated lot, the first light flurries of snow begin to fall and I stand with my face pointed toward the sky as I absorb the sight. The skies are hazy and gray, the clouds are dense, and the falling flakes are small and perfect. Several land on my coat and I study their intricate designs and laugh to myself as I realize that it’s true—no two snowflakes are identical.

  Throughout the day, the snow continues to fall, the flakes growing larger and coating the streets and sidewalks. I’ve been to Flagstaff a few times back in Arizona to go sledding in the snow, but never have I watched the first snowfall of the year. It’s magical and beautiful.

  “You want me to sweep the sidewalk?” Ellery asks, holding a large push broom.

  “No, thanks. I’d like to do it.” She smiles, hands me the broom, and grabs my coat from the back for me. I shrug on the heavy jacket, put on a wool beanie cap, and walk outside into the brisk air. I think I’ve just fallen in love with Warner, Washington. The blinking stop lights, the falling snow, and the chilly air all remind me of what Christmas should feel like. I happen to love Christmas and can’t wait to actually have a white one this year.

  Thirty minutes later, I’ve swept away the snow from my portion of the sidewalk, along with the neighboring stores’ portions. Several people across the street are doing the same thing, but their faces are twisted up into scowls. I want to shout to them to smile, but I’m pretty sure they’d throw a snowball at me.

  At the end of the day, after Ellery has left, I close up the store and head to my car. A two-inch layer of snow covers my car, making me smile. It looks like I slathered on a layer of vanilla frosting. Once inside, my hands are shaking from the cold, and when I turn my key in the ignition, nothing happens. No groan, no rumble of the engine starting, nothing. The lights still come on inside so I know it’s not the battery. What the hell? I quickly get out of the car, lock it up, and head back inside the store where it’s warm. I have two options—call Triple A or call Ace. I opt for option two. It’s after six, Ace should be home or on his way. Hopefully he answers my call.

  Four rings and voice mail picks up. I leave a brief message then shoot him off a text letting him know I’m stranded at work. The good news is there’s a fairly comfortable couch in the back room I can sleep on if worse comes to worst. Fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. Please let it be Ace and not some weirdo.

  I flip on the main lights and am relieved to see Ace in a bright red ski jacket with a black beanie cap over his head. When he sees me, his face holds no emotion. It’s like he’s meeting a stranger.

  Unlocking the door, I let him inside and lock it behind him. He glances around the store, blows warm air into his hands, and finally turns to me.

  “Let’s go get your car started,” he says plainly.

  “Okay, I’ll go grab my coat. Thanks for coming.” He nods his head then stands by the door as I retrieve my coat and shrug it on. We walk outside to the parking lot where Ace’s SUV is parked next to my snow-covered car.

  “In the back is an ice scraper,” he says, pointing to the back of his car. He unlocks it and I retrieve the ice scraper slash broom thingy and hold it out to him. His fingers brush mine as he grabs it from me, sending a shock through me. He quickly brushes off my car, and then tells me to put it in my car so I’ll have one for next time. “You probably need some antifreeze. There’s a jug of it in the back of my car as well. Can you grab it?”

  “Sure,” I say as I move around to the back of his SUV again. Inside is a gallon jug with blue liquid in it. Ace has the hood of my car up and pours the jug into some place in my engine. They don’t teach you about this stuff back home in Arizona.

  “Go ahead and try to start her up,” he says, closing the cap and wiping his hands on his jeans. I try to turn the engine twice and then on the third attempt, it starts up. Relief floods through me knowing my old car isn’t dead yet.

  I turn the heater on full blast, jump out of the car, and walk up to Ace. My arms wrap around his chest as I hug him. His entire body tenses under me, making me drop my arms. I take a step back only to see his eyes look as gray as the sky was earlier today. His jaw tenses before he opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it quickly.

  “Thanks…I guess,” I say before returning to my car. It’s too much to see the distance he’s forcing between us. With my hand on the car door to close it, Ace steps next to me.

  “Stacey,” he says, his voice low and trembling.

  I raise my hand, place it on his, and stop him from saying the words that are ripping me apart.

  “It’s okay, Ace. You don’t need to say anything. Thank you for your help.” I close the car door, turn the radio as loud as I can stand, and then slowly pull out of the parking lot. In the rearview mirror, I see Ace’s hands grip the back of his neck as he bends over at the waist and squats down in the parking lot. I’m pretty sure I left my heart lying on the snow-covered pavement next to him because my chest hurts so freaking bad, there is no way a heart could still be in there.

  Chapter 34

  Ace

  I let her go. I let her drive away from me and it’s ripping me apart piece by bitter piece. Those words she said, the pained expression in her eyes…it knocked the wind from my lungs and has me gasping for air. I’ve destroyed the one thing with the potential to put me back together, to make me whole again. What have I done?

  Following her back to her place would only lead to me falling apart even more, yet squatting here in the snow isn’t helping either. I can’t text her while she’s driving in this snow…shit! Does she even know how to drive in weather like this? Taking a deep breath, I stand, climb inside the SUV, and drive the route I would take if I were going to the house. Please let her get there safely. When I drive past the house, her car is parked in the driveway and the porch light is on. A sigh of relief passes through my lips as I drive myself home.

  The snow keeps falling over the next few days, and each day I make sure Stacey’s car is parked safely at work or at home. I need to make sure she’s safe and not lying in some hospital from a car accident.

  And now here I am…November 19th and it’s a miserable, gray, slushy day. I don’t even bother with a shower or calling in to the station. They know what today is and know I won’t be in for two days. Ethan has a bottle of Wild Turkey sitting on the counter along with two shot glasses. He’s made breakfast and joins me in a toast.

  “To Marley,” we both say, and then take a shot. The liquid burns as it goes down, choking the air in my lungs, much like the way I felt the day I let Stacey drive away from me. By the time breakfast is eaten, we’ve both had several shots and I’m feeling pretty good. By lunch, we’ve called a taxi, and when it pulls up, it honks, letting us know our ride has arrived. It’s the same every year since Marley died. Ethan drinks with me and when he’s had enough, he sticks with me until I’m too far gone to know my own name. It’s better for me this way. At least the pain is gone shortly after breakfast.

  We make it to Ned’s bar across town where the food’s good and cheap and the shots keep coming. Ned’s knows I have no limit on this day. Lunch consumed along with at least a half dozen shots later, I’m throwing darts like a pro and having trouble standing up straight. Ethan helps me to a table where he orders a water for himself and a rum and Coke for me.

  “You doing okay?” he asks.

  When I turn my attention to him, I can’t determine which Ethan I should be speaking to. A smile washes over my face and my whole body feels warm.

  “I really need to take a piss,” I mumble, and then stand abruptly, making my chair squelch across the wood floor. Ethan walks with me to the bathroom, and after I’ve washed my hands, he guides me back to the table.

  “You ready to end this?” Ethan sits back in his chair and drinks from his water glass. My eyelids feel like weights have been attached to them and it’s making it pretty damn difficult to keep them open.

  “Dude, no! I’m not nearly drunk en
ough. I’m still thinking about Stacey. And Marley.” I laugh as I start merging their names together. “Starley and Marcey. I’m so confused. Which one am I supposed to love because I can’t have both?”

  Ethan’s jaw clenches—well, at least it looks that way from where I’m sitting.

  “I’m serious, Ethan. I love your sister and she’s…dead. She freaking killed herself because she was pregnant and lost the baby.” Ethan closes his eyes and brings his hand to his forehead. “Maybe you didn’t know that. It was one year from the last miscarriage she had. All she wanted was to be a mom and every damn time she got pregnant, she lost the baby. So, you see…it was my fault she killed herself.”

  “Ace, stop,” Ethan says rather loudly. He sits up in his chair, takes the drink from my hand, and slams it on the table. “You didn’t kill her, you arrogant ass. It wasn’t your fault she lost the baby or…babies, whatever. There was nothing you could do to help her because you didn’t know how bad it was. No one did.”

  “What about Stacey? She loves me, you know? I can see it every time she looks at me. I told her not to. I told her I would never love her. Why does she have to love me?” I lay my head on the table, enjoying the cool surface.

  Once again, I stand up and then pull out the phone from my pocket. I call a cab and arrange to be picked up.

  “Where are you going?” Ethan asks, standing next to me.

  “Home. I’m going to my house to finish getting drunk and I’m going to tell Stacey I don’t want her to love me.”

  “The hell you are,” Ethan says, trying to push me back into the chair.

  “Get your hands off me, Ethan. I’m going to do this. I need to end it before it’s too late.” I shrug out of his grasp and stumble through the door to an awaiting cab. I give him her address and sit back while he drives through the streets of Warner.