Dying for Rain

by Easton, BB

  I count her breaths—one, two, three—before she lifts her eyes to me again. When she does, a black tear slides down the side of her face that the camera can’t see.

  “You don’t seem scared,” she says with a worried wrinkle in her forehead.

  “I’m not,” I answer honestly.

  “Why? Have you just … accepted what’s gonna happen to you?” Her perfect reporter diction falters as her voice rises in frustration.

  “No.”

  Rain straightens her spine for the camera and regains control of her Southern accent. “Then, can you tell us what’s going through your mind right now?”

  Her eyes plead with me to give her hope. To promise her that I have a plan. But all I have is the knowledge that I’ve survived every shitty fucking thing this life has thrown at me so far, and somehow, that feels like enough.

  It has to be.

  “Right now?” I say, staring into her eyes as if my gaze alone could dry her tears. “Right now, I’m only thinking about right now. About how a beautiful woman can walk into your life when you least expect it. About how quickly things can change.” Rain drops her eyes again, and I can’t help but smile. “And I’m also thinking of about a million and one ways I can try to escape.”

  Elliott snatches the microphone away from Rain with an awkward laugh and faces the camera, forcing his way in between us.

  “Ha! My man Parker’s got jokes, y’all! Tune in tomorrow at six to see him, and yours truly, walk the Green Mile! Stay safe out there, and may the fittest survive!”

  Elliott holds his serious TV news anchor face until Flip indicates that the recording is over. Then, he lights up like a Christmas tree. “Am I a natural or what? Listen”—he steps forward and places his hands on Flip and Michelle’s shoulders, turning them toward the hallway—“if y’all ever need another guest reporter, I’d be more than happy to …” His voice trails off as he walks them down the hall.

  It’s suddenly just me.

  And Rain.

  And about two-dozen steel bars in between us.

  “There’s a camera,” I spit out before she has a chance to do or say anything incriminating.

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Elliott’s voice sings from the doorway, making Rain jump.

  “Boy, when you said you had friends in the TV industry, I didn’t know you meant you had friends in the TV industry. Haaaay!” He snaps his fingers.

  “Did y’all see me? I killed that shit! I … murdered … that … shit!” Elliott claps his hands to punctuate every word. “Ooooh lawd, that felt good. Did it look good? Don’t answer that. I know it looked good! Ha-ha!”

  Rain gives me a nervous glance.

  “You came through, handsome. I don’t know how, but you said you was gonna help me out, and you did that shit. I’mma have me my own show in no time!”

  Then, like a switch being flipped, he goes into cop mode as he turns to face Rain.

  “But it’s real obvious that your little friend, Ms. McCartney, here ain’t who she says she is.”

  My jaw clenches shut.

  No, you motherfucker. Leave her alone.

  “Y’all couldn’t keep ya damn hands off each other during that whole interview.”

  At the mention of hands, mine ball into fists.

  I will fucking kill you.

  “Stand-in reporter? Please. This bitch has about as much charisma as a mug shot. The second she walked in, I knew you two was fuckin’.”

  Elliott reaches into his pocket, and I try to gauge whether or not he’s close enough for me to choke him through the bars.

  “So I’mma do you a solid, lover boy.” Elliott pulls his hand out of his pocket, producing a set of keys, and sticks one in the lock on my cell.

  Then, with a wink, he yanks open the squeaky door and gives Rain a shove. Her heels click against the concrete floor as she stumbles forward, landing directly against my chest.

  “Consider this your last meal.” He smirks. “You got twenty minutes.”

  Slam!

  My heart thuds in time with his footsteps as they echo down the hallway, and Rain’s heart beats even faster where it’s pressed against my chest.

  She’s here.

  Holy shit.

  She’s right fucking here.

  I wrap my arms around her trembling body and squeeze so hard I’m afraid I might crush her. Even when she’s in heels, her head fits under my chin. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I close my eyes and pretend that time has stopped, just for us. That tomorrow isn’t coming. That we’re fleshy statues now, and we can stay like this forever.

  But we can’t because Rain’s trembles are now full-body shudders as the sob she’s been trying to hold in leaks out all over my orange jumpsuit.

  “Wes,” she cries, burying her face in my neck. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have let them take you! I should have—”

  “Shh.” I smooth a hand over her hair and feel her breath, hot and desperate, on my skin.

  Rain lifts her tear-streaked face. Her pouty red lips tremble as they pull into a frown, but before she can let out another sob, I seal her mouth with mine. She tastes sad and girlie—all salty tears and cherry lip gloss—but she kisses me back with the determination of a woman. Her tongue slides and swirls around mine. Her tits, practically bursting out of that too-tight blouse, press against my chest. And her hands dive into my hair, holding me like a balloon in danger of floating away. Then, her kisses begin to roam.

  “I love you so much,” she murmurs, kissing my cheek.

  “Oh my God, I missed you.” Her kisses trace the line of my jaw.

  “This is all my fault.” She breathes against my neck. “I’m gonna get you out. I promise. I’ll … I’ll figure something out.”

  “Hey.” I capture her face in my hands and tilt it back so that I can stare directly into her wide, panicking eyes when I tell her, “I’ll get myself out. Do you hear me? You shouldn’t be here.”

  Rain’s eyelids close as she exhales a quiet, shuddering sob. “This is the only place I want to be.”

  Without looking up, Rain grips my zipper and slides it down my chest. I grit my teeth as she reaches in and wraps her arms around my exposed torso, pressing her wet cheek against my bare skin. My eyes sting. My lungs scream for air. Nothing fucking hurts as much as this woman’s touch. It filets me like a dull knife. At first, it hurt because I realized that no one had ever cared for me like that before. Then, it killed me because I knew once she left, no one ever would again. But now? Now, her love cuts me down where I stand because I can no longer deny how much I want it.

  I don’t want to die for her or let her go or try to convince myself that she belongs with someone else. I never did. The soul-crushing truth is that I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want her by my side and in my bed and in my life forever. I still don’t believe that God will let me have her, but until he pries her out of my cold, dead hands, I’m going to keep fighting.

  Rain pushes the orange fabric over my shoulders, and I shrug it off like a skin I’ve outgrown. Her fingernails graze my sides as she kisses my tattoos, lingering over the wilted pink lily on my ribs. My fist grips her hair as her fingertips trace the edge of my government-issued boxers. Rain slides them down slowly as she sinks to her knees. I can feel my heartbeat in my cock as it falls forward, seeking her warmth. As badly as I want to yank her back up and fuck her properly, the image of her red lips wrapped around my dick is one I simply can’t go to my grave without seeing.

  Rain’s black lashes fan out across her flushed cheeks as she licks me from base to tip, swirling her tongue around my swollen, throbbing head. My chest aches as she takes me into her mouth, as I watch her crimson lips slide over my cock and her cheeks hollow as she sucks me off, but when she opens her big blue eyes and looks up at me, the sensation is more intense than I ever fucking imagined.

  This is her love for me. This is her selflessness. This is her risking her life to get to me, just to spend what little time
we have left trying to make me feel good.

  “Come here,” I whisper, cupping her face and wiping the mascara from under her eyes with my thumbs.

  Rain doesn’t break eye contact as she slides her lips down my length one last time, and I’m overwhelmed with the need to feel her everywhere. I pull her to her feet and make quick work of the buttons on her blouse as I nip and suck at the overheated skin beneath her ear.

  “We don’t have much time left, and I want to spend it inside you,” I growl, feeling a ripple of goose bumps pebble under my lips.

  Yanking her tight skirt up over her full hips, I palm her perfect, round ass as I kiss my way down to her bra. Sucking one straining nipple through the black lacy fabric, I slide my hand between her legs and tease her slit over her panties. They’re already soaked through. My mouth waters. I know we don’t have much time left, but I need to lick her. I need to taste her.

  If this is my last meal, I’m gonna fucking savor it.

  Dropping to my knees, I trace the edge of Rain’s silky panties with my finger before sliding them to one side. I don’t take my time, and I don’t ease her in. I run my tongue along her soft, slippery flesh and stifle a moan as the flavor coats my tongue.

  Fucking perfect.

  Rain hisses and grabs my hair as I suck and lick and devour her pussy, alternating between pulling me closer and trying to push me away.

  “Wes,” she whispers, her voice needy and breathless. “Please. I need you.”

  Those words are my undoing. I press her back against the one cinder-block wall that’s hidden from the hallway, pull her knee over my hip, and fill her so deep and so hard that she has to bite my lip to keep from moaning.

  “Fuck,” I snarl, filling her again.

  She feels so fucking good, so warm and soft and right and mine, that for a minute, I wonder if I’m already dead.

  Not even heaven could feel as good as this.

  “I love you,” Rain whispers against my mouth.

  The sadness in her shaky voice hits me like a fist to the heart.

  I wrap my hand around her jaw and force her to look at me as I thrust into her again. “I love you more.”

  It’s not a fucking question.

  “If I can’t get you out of here …” Her words trail off with a gasp.

  “That’s not your job. Do you hear me? You just stay safe.”

  Rain closes her eyes, and I feel her chin buckle under my palm. “I can’t lose you, Wes.”

  “Hey, look at me.”

  Rain opens her tortured eyes and slays me with a single sentence. “We can’t lose you.”

  We.

  I gaze down the length of her beautiful torso, over her swollen, flushed-pink tits, and down to her still-flat belly. I realize I’m no longer fucking her.

  I’m marveling at her.

  “I took a test.” She swallows. “You were right.”

  “Fuck. Rain …” I cup her face in my hand and kiss her again, not out of lust or loss or the elapsing of time, but out of pure, soul-crushing love.

  When I fill her again, it’s because that’s the only way I can get closer to her. And when I feel her contract around me, when her breaths turn to whimpers and she whispers that she loves me again, I pour myself into her on a muffled cry.

  I thought I wanted to be a good dad, like Doug.

  But fuck that.

  Good dads die for their families.

  I’m gonna live for mine.

  Rain

  I stand in the center of Wes’s cell with my arms wrapped around his waist and my cheek pressed against his chest, waiting, counting his heartbeats until the next horrible thing happens.

  Eighteen … nineteen … twenty …

  “Remember what I said,” Wes whispers into my hair.

  I nod, feeling my own heart beating about twice as fast as his. I tighten my fist around my balled-up panties. Any second now, that door is going to open, and Wes is going to attack Officer Elliott. As soon as Wes has his arms pinned behind his back, my job is to strangle Officer Elliott until he passes out. Wes said it might be too hard for me to do with my bare hands, so I should wrap my panties around his neck and tighten them instead.

  I can’t believe we’re about to do this.

  The calming thump of Wes’s heartbeat is suddenly drowned out by the panic-inducing clomp of hard-sole shoes coming down the hall.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and cling to him tighter.

  “Okay, lovebirds,” Elliott sings from the hallway behind me as his footsteps come to a stop. “Time’s up.”

  I feel Wes bristle in my arms, so I look over my shoulder at the man on the other side of the bars. Officer Elliott has a huge grin on his face … and a small handgun in his fist.

  “Ms. McCartney, you come on over here, hon.” He gestures to the door with the barrel of the gun. “Handsome, you go stand in the corner with ya hands up.”

  And just like that, our escape plan is ruined. Wes can’t jump Elliott if he’s got a gun pointed at him at point-blank range.

  And we all know it.

  “Fuck,” Wes hisses, squeezing me tighter.

  “Shh … it’s okay,” I whisper, tilting my head back to look at him. His nostrils flare with every breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  I don’t even know why I said that. Maybe because it’s the closest thing to goodbye I can bring myself to say, or maybe it’s because it’s true. One way or another, I’m gonna see him tomorrow. Either in my arms after I rescue him or in Plaza Park when I lose him forever.

  “Tomorrow? Oh my goodness, are you goin’ to the Green Mile event?” Officer Elliott asks enthusiastically. “Ooh! Maybe you could talk to Michelle Ling for me! See if I can introduce the governor this time!”

  “Yeah, okay,” I mumble, not taking my eyes off Wes’s beautiful, tortured face. “Tomorrow,” I promise again, pushing up onto my toes to kiss his tightly drawn lips.

  “Tomorrow,” Wes growls before his mouth crashes into mine, finally letting every ounce of the panicked desperation he’s been feeling make itself known.

  My back arches as I try to absorb the brunt of his brutal kiss, the feral force of his love, the overwhelming power of his will to survive. I feel Wes becoming a caged animal in my arms, and my heart breaks, both for him and for anyone in this building who makes the mistake of coming too close to him.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  Officer Elliott taps his gun against the bars. “You got three seconds to get in the corner with your hands up before I shoot, boy. Don’t make me hafta drag yo’ dead ass down the Green Mile tomorrow!”

  I break our kiss and wriggle out of Wes’s death grip, walking him backward into the corner of his cell.

  “I love you,” I whisper, holding him at arm’s length.

  A lock of hair falls over one pale green eye as he stares down at me. Unbridled rage swims in the other. “Tomorrow,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.

  I force a smile through my tears and nod. “Tomorrow.”

  Tearing myself away from him and tearing my own heart out in the process, I turn and take three steps over to the bars.

  Officer Elliott unlocks the door and yanks me out without once taking his eyes off of Wes. As soon as the door slams shut, he turns to me and beams. “So, here’s my vision. Instead of Michelle doing her usual boring-as-hell intro, what if the camera follows me, leading the accused all the way down the Green Mile? Make folks feel like they’re really there!”

  As he walks me away, with a grin on his face and a gun pressed between my shoulder blades, I glance over my shoulder.

  I used to love nothing more than watching Wes watch me. His rapt attention. His intense gaze. With a single look, he could make me feel seen. Studied. Special.

  But watching him watch me go is an entirely different experience. I don’t feel special.

  I feel split apart.

  Officer Elliott rambles the entire way back to the lobby about all his TV show ideas, but I’m not listening. I�
�m too busy trying to remember how to breathe. Just before he buzzes us into the lobby, he holsters his gun and starts laughing like we’re old friends.

  “Y’all come on back anytime, Ms. McCartney,” he says, giving me a little shove.

  Officer Hoyt looks up from the front desk but drops his gaze the moment our eyes meet.

  “Thank you, Officer Elliott,” I mumble without turning around. And I’m surprised to realize that I mean it.

  I really hope Wes doesn’t kill you.

  “Thank you, honey child. And be sure to tell ya boy Flip to get my good side tomorrow!”

  “Which side is your good side?” Officer Hoyt asks as I click-clack over to the main entrance, trying to hold my head up and my sobs in.

  “Both sides, silly!” Officer Elliott howls with laughter as the door buzzes open.

  I walk outside and squint into the daylight.

  The world before me looks just as abused and miserable and desperate and filthy as I feel.

  But the sun is still shining.

  Wes is still alive.

  And the Channel 11 news van is still waiting for me out front.

  And for that, I’m grateful.

  As I drag my grieving bones across the street to the Channel 11 news van, the passenger door opens, and Michelle climbs out.

  “You okay?” she asks, her battered face mirroring my battered spirit.

  I nod. Then shrug. Then shake my head as she comes over to give me a hug.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I think this footage is gonna have everybody in Georgia on Team Wes as soon as it airs. He’s a hottie, huh?” Michelle forces a smile as she tugs me closer to the van.

  Opening the side doors, she gestures for me to climb inside. Flip is in the driver’s seat while Quint and Lamar are sitting in two small fold-out chairs. The three of them are chowing down on soup straight out of the can. A skinny counter wraps around the back and driver’s side of the van, and above it are rows of monitors, lights, switches, and buttons.

  Lamar greets me with a grin. “Hey, Rainy Lady!”

  “How’d it go?” Quint asks, setting his can on the counter.

  I sit in the middle of the floor and try to pry off one of Michelle’s cruel shoes. It’s so tight on my foot that I end up yanking it off with both hands and throwing it across the van. “Ugh!”