Rain 01 When It Rains (41 page)

One Year Later

I’
VE
LEARNED
THREE
THINGS
IN
MY
LIFE
.

First, I can’t keep things locked inside. They will eventually eat me up until there is nothing left, and life is too short to live in solitude.
One of the things Asher taught me is that every day should be worth at least one smile.

Second, I should never take anyone or anything for granted. It’s easy to assume that when someone walks into our life they will always be there. But I know that one day, one moment, one ounce of bad luck can change everything. I lost Asher way too soon. He had the most beautiful soul, and without him I don’t know how long it would have taken me to find myself again. I’m never going to be the girl I was, but right now, I’m the person I want to be. I’m content with who I am and where my life is going.

Third, love is a powerful emotion. It has the ability to get you through anything. But you have to let it.

For the past year, Beau and I have learned that over and over again. We’re also learning that you fight with the ones you love more than the ones you don’t . . . but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” he whispers in my ear, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

“Yep, let me grab the cooler, and I’ll meet you outside.”

He kisses my cheek when I look over my shoulder and loosens his grip, resting his hands on my hips. “Don’t take too long, beautiful. I can’t wait to see you in that new blue bikini.”

“Beau.”

“Yeah?”

“The quicker you let go of me, the quicker we can make that happen,” I smile, attempting to take a step forward, but he pulls me back into him.

“One more kiss,” he says, spinning me around to face him. He wastes no time pressing his lips to mine. He starts slowly, gently pulling my lower lip between his teeth. I moan with the tingle it sends shooting down my spine. Every kiss is a first kiss with Beau Bennett. Yet this time, when I’m expecting more, he pulls back. “Hurry up. We’ll finish that when we get to the lake.”

I bite my lower lip, knowing it will make him crazy. He deserves it for leaving me hanging like that. When he tries to grab for me again, I step back. “Go wait in the truck.”

He winks at me, melting my heart like butter.
“You better hurry,” he growls, playfully smacking my ass before walking backwards toward the door.

This is our last time at the lake for the summer before we have to return to school. It’s our place, and it always will be. We’ve talked about moving back here after school and maybe buying a house by the lake, but I think it’s a little too early to plan that far ahead in the future. It’s definitely a place we’ll always come to visit.

When I walk into the kitchen to grab the cooler, I catch my mom and Daniel locked in an embrace. Sometimes they’re almost too cute.
They have spent every minute this way since they got married. I smile, realizing how similar mine and Beau’s relationship is to theirs.

“Beau and I are heading out to the lake. Are we still grilling tonight?” I ask, stopping at the door.

“Of course. We invited Beau’s parents over too since it’s your last night home,” my mom replies, resting her head on Daniel’s chest.

“Sounds good. We’ll see you later,” I say, waving with my free hand before opening the door.

Beau is sitting in his truck with his arm hanging out the window and country music blaring through the stereo. His smile widens when he sees me, and everything feels right.

I’m going to marry that boy someday. Not tomorrow, not next year, but someday. He’s my forever.

“It’s about time,” he says as I climb into the truck.

“Beau.”

“Yes, beautiful?”

“Just drive,” I smile, sticking my hands out the window to feel the warm summer air. The ride is quiet except for the sounds of country twang and wooden guitars that blare through his speakers. Music has become a symbol of the different periods in my life. I still have the iPod Asher left me, and I listen to it often. I’ll always miss his voice . . . it’s a reminder of all the things he’s given me.

A couple months after Beau and I officially started dating, I told him about it and all the other good memories I have of Asher. I wasn’t sure how he’d react, but he understood. I’m sure he wishes he could have been the one to save me, but I think he’s grateful to have me back no matter what road I took to get there.

As we pull into the parking lot, I notice that the beach is pretty empty for this time of year. Crowds don’t bother me like they used to, but being here alone with Beau sounds like a little slice of heaven.

“What are you waiting for?” Beau asks, running his thumb along my cheekbone.

“I was just thinking about how much I love this place.” I smile, looking over at the love of my life.

“It holds a lot of memories,” he says, tucking a few strands of loose hair behind my ear.

“That is does. So let’s go make new ones.” I give him my best seductive grin. Anyone else might laugh at it, but Beau gets it.

We waited months before we had sex. It was good because it allowed us to rekindle our emotional bond. Our love is so strong, and nothing could destroy it now. We worked for fifteen years to get to this point, and nothing is going to come between us.

I jump out of the truck and wait for Beau to grab the cooler from the back. We make our way to “our spot”—a little clearing in the tall grass—and lay down an old flannel blanket. I decide to play with Beau a little bit and slowly pull my shirt over my head. His eyes double in size as he takes in my new bikini top, and he watches as I unbutton my shorts and let them slide down my legs. I absolutely love when he looks at me like that.

“Come here,” he demands, holding out his left hand.

I do as he asks, but I walk to him slowly, enjoying the anticipation. When I’m close enough that he can touch me, he grabs my hand and presses my body against his. He skips the ‘slow’ this time and presses his tongue into my mouth. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I feel every part of him, inside and out. His touch is warmer than the sun on my skin, and it’s easy to get lost in him.

He’s my true love and my best friend.

As his mouth and tongue continue to dance with mine, his hands run up and down my back. Everything he does, he does carefully, but the second I pull his hair between my fingers, he gets the hint and runs his thumbs over my nipples.

A few miraculous raindrops fall from the sky and land on my head. When I look up, I see a lone storm cloud over our heads. A laugh escapes my lips as I finger the umbrella around my neck.

“Thank you,” I mouth before letting my eyes connect with Beau’s again.

He picks me up off the ground and spins me around, kissing me again with his warm lips while the rain pours down.

“I love you so fucking much,” he says, resting his forehead against mine.

“I love you too,” I say, pulling him in for another kiss.

When it rains think of me.
 
I look up, letting the rain hit my face and smile.

Every two minutes, someone in the U.S. is sexually assaulted and 44% of victims are under the age of 18.

If you have been a victim of sexual abuse, you are not alone. You can contact the Rape, Abuse, Incest National Network at
www.rainn.org
or 1-800-656-HOPE.

F
IRST
, I
WANT
TO
THANK
MY
FAMILY
for putting up with my crazy hours and lack of home-cooked meals over the last few months. I couldn’t do this without the support I receive from my husband and my amazing, understanding children.

To my critique partner Mireya, you continue to push me when I just want to give up. You lift me up when I’m feeling down, and I’m grateful to have you in my life. You’ll always be the other half of my crazy.

To Jessica, words cannot express how much your friendship means to me. Thank you so much for everything you did to help me get When It Rains to where it is. I could say how much I appreciate you one thousand times over and it still wouldn’t be enough.

To Jennifer, thank you for your editing expertise. You are the queen of turning a good sentence into a great sentence.

To my amazing beta readers: Amy B., Amy C., Melissa, Christine, Mint, Jennifer and Deanna, thank you!
When It Rains
would not be where it is without your feedback.

I would also like to thank Angie at Angie’s Dreamy Reads for putting together my blog tour and Christine at Shh Mom’s Reading for helping with the cover reveal.

And last but not least, I’d like to thank all the fans and bloggers who have supported me throughout my writing journey. I wouldn’t be where I am today without you!

L
ISA
D
E
J
ONG
IS
A
WIFE
, mother and full-time number cruncher who lives in the Midwest. Her writing process involves insane amounts of coffee and many nights of very little sleep but she wouldn’t change a thing. She also enjoys reading, football and music.

Twitter: @LisaDeJongBooks

Email:
[email protected]

[email protected]

Coming Soon . . .

Always Imperfect
(Imperfect #1)—December 2013

Sometimes Imperfect
(Imperfect #2)—February 2014

This Love Thing
—Early 2014

Once Again
—Spring 2014

A broken love story

By Mia Asher

Prologue

Broken.

I’m lost.

I’m drifting away . . .

Drowning in a sea of sorrow and pain as waves of regret keep pulling me down where an undertow of resentment won’t let me break free.

Maybe I should just give up?

As I stare blankly into Dr. Pajaree’s beautiful dark eyes, listening to her prognosis in her pragmatic, yet friendly voice, I can’t help wondering where the magic has gone? Is real life contaminating our fairy tale romance with all its ugliness?

Yes.

Maybe.

“It’s better known as habitual abortion . . . recurrent pregnancy loss . . . RPL . . . three or more pregnancies that end in misca . . .”

With my arms tightly wrapped around my stomach, I rock back and forth as I try to listen to what she’s saying, her words drifting in and out of my consciousness.

I know I should be paying more attention because she’s explaining to me why I’m not woman enough, why I can’t keep a baby in my body long enough to be able to hold it in my arms, but all I want to do is shake off the cold blanket of numbness that enfolds me.

It’s not working. I’m still so very cold, so very dead inside. Feeling Ben’s strong arm wrap around my shoulders stops the manic rocking, but even his warm embrace can’t help me get rid of this helplessness threatening to take over.

I wonder why doctors wear white coats. It’s such an ugly color.

Sterile.