The Girl in the Rain

by L. G. Davis

  “Renewed. I can’t believe I never took advantage of your gifts before.”

  “There’s always a first time. Let’s get out of here; you’ve got a date to prepare for.” She had proposed that I get dressed at her place so as not to get attacked by Ryan, but even though he tried to scare me last night, I’m not going to tiptoe around him.

  Outside The Goddess Parlor, I open my car door and turn to Thalia. “Are you really sure you want to come over after I leave? You don’t have to.”

  I didn’t tell Thalia what Ryan did last night, because I don’t want her to be too worried about me. But it makes me uncomfortable to think of her in Ryan’s presence. What if he’s really more dangerous than I think?

  “I don’t mind. I don’t have anything important to do tonight anyway. And if keeping an eye on Ryan helps you focus on your date, I’m happy to do it. Don’t worry about me. Concentrate on having fun tonight. Dylan seems to really like you. Give him a fair chance.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I give her a quick hug and get into the car. “I’ll call you when I leave the apartment.”

  Before coming to Lacey’s Place, I did a little research. Turns out, it’s one of the many businesses the Baxters own, and it’s named after Dylan’s mother.

  There were quite a few times I’d walked past the restaurant, pretending not to peer through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glittering chandeliers inside, the tables draped in mint green, scalloped edge linen cloths topped with floral centerpieces.

  Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d dine in a place like this.

  My stomach rolls with nerves as I step through the glass doors, but I refuse to let my discomfort show. I push my shoulders back and hold my chin up.

  Of all the girls in this town, Dylan Baxter chose me to have dinner with.

  “Do you have a reservation, Miss?” Even though she’s trying to be discreet, I can feel the eyes of the waitress giving me a once over, judging without even knowing me.

  My skin tingles from her penetrating gaze, but I force myself to remember my confidence.

  “I’m meeting Mr. Dylan Baxter for dinner. Is he already here?”

  The woman’s hard demeanor softens. “Yes, yes of course, you must be Miss Wilson.” She moves out of my way. “He’s already here waiting for you. Let me take you to your table.”

  Eyes are on me as we weave our way through the elegant round tables, and I do my best not to look tense.

  Even though my dress had looked extravagant in the boutique, a quick look at what the other diners are wearing makes me feel underdressed. But I have something they don’t. I have a date with the boss.

  We finally arrive at a secluded table in a closed-off room at the back of the restaurant, where we find Dylan on the phone. As soon as he sees me, he hangs up and rises from the table.

  “Here you are, Miss. May I bring you something to drink?” She hands me a leather-bound menu with Lacey’s Place embossed into the skin in gold lettering.

  “Not yet.” I breathe in and glance at Dylan. The scents of burning candles, fresh flowers, and his cologne are calming.

  “We’ll let you know once we decide,” Dylan says.

  “Yes, sir.” The waitress gives a small nod and leaves.

  “You look beautiful, Paige. Your hair is lovely.” He kisses me on both cheeks, his lips hot on my skin. “Thank you for meeting me tonight.” He pulls out a cushioned chair for me, then takes a seat, studying my face through the dancing flames of the candlelight. “I wanted to see you before I go back to New York tomorrow.”

  I smooth my napkin over my lap and lean forward. “I thought you planned to stay for a couple more weeks.”

  “Where did you hear that from?” He leans back in his chair, an amused expression on his face.

  “You happen to be a superstar in Corlake, Mr. Baxter. And this is a small town, as we both know.”

  “What else do you know about me, Miss Wilson?” The light from the candles reflects in his green eyes.

  “Not much.” I avert my gaze, focus instead on an abstract painting on the wall behind him. Even though I agreed to have dinner with him, I’m still not sure whether I’m interested in taking things further than tonight. My life is still a mess.

  “In that case, is there anything else you want to know about me?”

  “I can't think of anything off the top of my head.” Our eyes lock again and my senses leap to life.

  There’s no denying the fact that he fascinates me, but asking questions about him would give him the impression I care more than I want to. It could lead to him asking me out on more dates.

  “All right, then. Let’s order something to drink. How about champagne to celebrate this wonderful evening?”

  My chest tightens. “Sorry, I don’t drink alcohol.”

  He gives me a crooked smile. “You don’t drink coffee and you don’t drink alcohol; what do you drink?”

  “Everything else.” Since it’s our first dinner, there’s no need for me to explain why I don’t drink alcohol. It would open up a can of worms I’d rather keep shut for one evening.

  Asking no further questions, he calls for the waitress, and since I’m unable to decide which of the non-alcoholic expensive drinks to choose, he orders me a glass of pomegranate juice and a white wine for himself.

  While the waitress gets our drinks, I’m relieved when Dylan moves our conversation to the town of Corlake and BJHS. I find myself starting to relax, but once the drinks arrive and the waitress disappears, he leans forward.

  “Tell me more about yourself.”

  I take a gulp of my juice and avert my gaze. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not as interesting as you might think.”

  “There’s something interesting about every person.” He reaches out and his fingers curve under my chin, raising my face to meet his intense gaze. His touch is cool and smooth against my skin. “Tell me what’s hiding behind that gorgeous face?”

  My pulse skitters as I move my head back a fraction. He gets the message and lowers his hand to the table.

  “Sorry about that. I got carried away.” He tilts his head to the side. “I just feel so comfortable around you.”

  I don’t tell him that I feel the same way and that it scares the hell out of me.

  “Did you spend most of your life in Corlake?” He takes a drink of wine.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’ve never lived anywhere else.” Before he digs deeper into my life, I change lanes. “I’m sorry about your father.”

  “Thank you.” He pauses. “Was that your brother? The one who came to the fundraiser?” His voice is low, cautious.

  A heavy feeling settles in my stomach like a brick. He was in the hall during Ryan’s visit? Did he stay long enough to see the scene Ryan made? I swallow hard. “He ... yes. My brother, Ryan.”

  Dylan nods, but his eyes are still filled with too many questions—questions I’m not sure I want to answer. “You care for him all on your own?”

  I nod.

  This man is asking questions, but I get the feeling he has most of the answers already. To ask me that, he must know that my parents are dead and that I have no other family members apart from Ryan.

  He rakes a hand through his wavy hair. “That’s incredible.”

  “Incredible?”

  “Not many people would be willing to take on the job of caring for a paralyzed sibling.”

  “You sound like you know quite a bit about me?” I drain my glass.

  “People talk a lot around here.” He finishes his wine. “I think you’re amazing for what you do for your brother.”

  I fold and unfold my napkin, then smooth it on my lap. “It’s hard sometimes.”

  “I can only imagine. I saw what he did at the fundraising event. And still you don’t turn your back on him.”

  Guilt gnaws at my insides. “Of course not. He’s my family.” I raise my eyes to his face. “And you? How are you coping after your father’s death?”

&nbs
p; “You’re changing the subject again, aren’t you?” A dimple flutters in his cheek as he smiles. “But that’s fine. I understand how uncomfortable talking about your brother must be.”

  “I’m curious about you; that’s all.” I came here to forget about my life for a while. Discussing Ryan would only taint the evening.

  “I’m managing fine.” His voice is lower, a few shades darker than before. “My dad and I weren’t particularly close.”

  “Why not?” I frown, curiosity swirling in my belly.

  “My father loved this town. You may not believe this, but that trip to Greece was the only time he left Corlake. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Dylan’s father was a wealthy man but when you walked past him on the street, you’d never know it. He lived in a villa, but he never deliberately flaunted his wealth in any way, never drove cars or wore clothes that made him stand out.

  “He wanted me to share the same love, to move here and work by his side, but I’m a big city kind of guy. Even as a child, Corlake was too small for me.” He releases a sharp breath. “When my parents divorced—I was ten—I followed my mom to New York without hesitation. My mother shared my love for traveling. Unlike my father, I wanted to see the world, to spread my wings. You know what I mean?”

  “I do.” The idea of flying around the world, seeing new, exciting places sends adrenaline coursing through me in spurts. But because of Ryan, leaving town had never been an option.

  “I know you’re renting one of the Baxter apartments,” he says, causing me to tense up again. “Are you happy there?” He glances past my shoulders. “Hold that thought. Let’s order some food first, then we can talk some more.”

  This time, too, I allow him to order for both of us. He chooses Filet Mignon with balsamic glaze and creamy Caesar salad with torn croutons. The food is mouthwatering and my tongue agrees. My stomach, on the other hand refuses to settle during the meal. I know he’ll soon get back to talking about me living in his apartment building.

  If he knows that I’m one of his tenants, does he know that I’m behind on my rent?

  “Back to my question.” He slices into his meat. “Are you happy in the building?”

  “I am.” My gaze drops to my food. “Very much so. It’s very wheelchair friendly.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” He’s quiet for a long time as he chews. Then he puts down his knife and fork and dabs his lips with his napkin. “I haven’t known you for long, Paige Wilson, but I think you’re a good person. If you ever need anything, just ask.”

  “I appreciate that, but I can’t …” My voice drifts off. How could I ask someone I’ve only known for a couple of days to share my burdens? Why would he help a woman he’s just met anyway?

  “Why not?”

  My phone vibrates inside my bag before I can respond. As I pull it out, dread locks me in a vice.

  My eyes flutter to Dylan’s face and then back to the phone. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.” He picks up his fork again.

  I rise and step away from the table, headed for the ladies’ room. The vibrating has stopped so I call Thalia back. “Tell me everything is all right.” I enter one of the cubicles, close the door and sit on the closed toilet bowl.

  “No.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, honey. I really wanted to help you, but—”

  “What happened, Thalia?” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “Your brother, he’s deeply troubled.”

  “Did he do something to you?”

  “He threw a bottle of alcohol at me and threatened me with a knife when I refused to leave.” She pauses. “I think he knows why I came over.”

  “He threatened you with a knife?” I feel the blood drain from my face.

  “I know he’s your brother, but he’s dangerous, Paige. You should have seen the look in his eyes.”

  “I’m so sorry, Thalia. Please ... please go home.”

  When I return to Dylan, tears are coating my eyes. I blink them away before he sees them.

  “Everything okay?” A frown appears between Dylan’s brows.

  I glance at my unfinished food, but don’t sit back in my chair. “Dylan, this was nice, but I need to get home.”

  “Is it your brother?”

  “Yes.” I reach for my handbag and meet his gaze head on. “I’m sorry to leave you hanging, but I have to be honest with you. I’m not at a place where I can date.” Better to put all the cards on the table. I wouldn’t want him to think he has a chance with me. “My life is in a bit of a mess right now.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “No.” I raise a hand when he starts to get up. “It’s nothing I can’t handle alone. But thanks.”

  He sits back down. “I’d really love to see you again. I love talking to you.” He pauses. “I’ll be leaving for New York tomorrow, but I’ll be back in a week. You have my number. Let me know if you need anything. While I’m away, think about whether you’d like to have dinner with me again so we can finish what we started.”

  “At the moment, I can’t promise you anything,” I say and walk out of the restaurant.

  Chapter 14

  When I get home, I stand at the front door, hands clenched tight at my sides. I’m afraid of what I might find on the other side. When I climbed out of the car a few minutes ago, I’d peered up at the living room window but saw no light on. I doubt Ryan is sleeping though.

  I force my hand to be still as I insert the key into the lock and turn it. My heart jolts when I hear the familiar click. Teeth clenched, I push the door open, ready for war.

  I’m surprised not to find him in the living room. It looks the way it always does, a complete mess, but the TV is off tonight. What’s he up to?

  My next stop is his bedroom. I take a breath before pushing his door open. Seeing inside his bedroom chills me every time.

  Last year, he decided to repaint the walls black. But he didn’t stop at that. He also replaced the old furniture with black pieces. Till this day I have no idea where he got the money to pay for everything, and to hire people to do the work. All I know is that one night he shared his plans with me, and I refused to give him the money. A few days later, there was a knock on the door. Two men stood there with buckets of black paint and other material needed for painting. The same day, a furniture truck pulled up in front of the apartment building. By the end of the day, the old furniture was gone and the light inside Ryan’s room had been turned off. No splash of color in sight.

  I didn’t ask where he got the money for everything. There’s no way the allowance I give him weekly would afford him the expensive leather furniture he purchased. The only explanation is that he found a way to make money on the Internet without my knowledge. The first thing my mind went to was gambling. The thought terrified me so much I brought it up with him, only to have the door slammed in my face as usual.

  Tonight, the onyx silk bedsheets hang from one side of the bed, and pool onto the black tiled floor like ink water. The matching curtains are drawn.

  Ryan’s not in here, either.

  My head swimming, I back out and close the door. I check his bathroom, the kitchen, everywhere I can think of. No Ryan.

  I come to a halt in the hallway, bracing myself. If he’s inside the apartment, there’s only one room he can be in. My skin prickles with each step I take toward my bedroom door.

  I push open the door, flick on the light, and jump back.

  Ryan is on one side of my bed, his hooded gaze on me, eyes like frozen marbles.

  “Hi, Sis.” A sadistic smile taints his face, darkening his slurred words. “Looks like you’re a little late coming home tonight.”

  He lowers his gaze to his lap. I follow it.

  My hand wraps around my neck as I force myself to breathe, to remain calm.

  “What is it? Is something the matter?” He wheels himself in my direction. “Don’t say you’re afraid of your little brother.” He tuts as he nears me.


  I take two steps back into the hallway. He picks up the butcher knife from his lap and runs a fingertip along the sharp blade. Even from where I’m standing, I notice the smear of red on his finger. He doesn’t react to the cut.

  My muscles tighten, ready for flight, but I don’t move. I keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. My eyes are hard as they meet his from across the room.

  “What are you planning to do, Ryan? Will you kill me? Is that what you have planned for me tonight?” I swallow the rock wedged inside my throat. “You think murdering me will solve all your problems?” I harden my voice. “What do you think will happen to you when I’m gone, huh?”

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” he barks. “Killing you would be way too easy. The suffering involved is too fleeting. I want you to stay alive, to live each day regretting ever being born.” He slices his finger on the blade again, his eyes never leaving mine. “If you send anyone to babysit me again, I might just change my mind.” He clears his throat. “But if I do choose to snuff out your useless life, I’ll do it very slowly and very painfully.”

  Our eyes lock for a few beats more, then he breaks the connection and wheels himself out of the room.

  Before he leaves me alone, he turns around. “One more thing.” He rubs the side of his face with the bloody hand, smearing blood from his temple to his jaw. “Your new look disgusts me. It will never be able to hide your ugliness from the world. You can change yourself on the outside, but the guilt will continue to eat you alive every day.” He narrows his eyes to slits. “And whoever you’re seeing, end it today.”

  Chapter 15

  At six a.m., the ringing of the phone drags me from the clutches of troubled sleep. My head feels like it’s filled with bricks as I raise it from the pillow and fumble for my cell on the nightstand.

  “You okay?” Thalia asks from the other end of the line. I don’t know how many times she’s asked me that question.

  “No, I’m not.” No point in sugarcoating anything. “Things got out of hand when I got home last night.” I roll my head to release the tension in my neck. “Hey, I’m so sorry again for putting you in that situation.”