Saving Rain(36)

The woman behind the counter turned with my sandwich wrapped up and smiled as she rang me up. I paid, accepted my change, wished her a good day, and turned to leave without another look at that cop.

He followed.

“Hey, wait,” he called, and I stopped to glance over my shoulder. “I think we’re gettin’ off on the wrong foot,” he said, then offered his hand to shake. “Officer Patrick Kinney.”

I eyed his palm for a moment before accepting the gesture. “Soldier Mason.”

“Ya have to forgive us, Soldier,” Officer Kinney said with an apologetic glint in his blue eyes. “We live in a quiet small town, and just the thought of someone comin’ in and upsettin’ the balance shakes us up.”

I allowed the tension in my spine to loosen a bit as I nodded understandingly. “I don’t blame anyone for being suspicious.”

“Give us time,” he said, and I agreed with a smile and a nod.

It was the first act of kindness I was shown.

The second came later that day in the form of a prepubescent boy.

While I sat on a chair at the back of the store, eating my sandwich and trying to figure out how to send Harry a picture in a text message on that damn phone, I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see a boy of maybe ten or eleven watching me. I was sure he thought he was hiding effectively behind the rack of bananas, but the kid hid worse than I would behind a flagpole.

But I pretended not to see him.

I wondered where his mom or dad was. If they knew he was missing or if they knew their kid was doing a bang-up job of snooping on the new guy in town. And I bit back a laugh when he leaned too far to the left and tripped over his own feet.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, realizing he had blown his cover, only to turn right into the banana rack and knock several bunches off their hooks. “Ah, man …”

I stood up, dusting the sandwich crumbs off the bib of my apron. “Don’t worry about it. I got it.”

“What? N-no, it’s—” He looked over his shoulder, and his eyes raked over my body before widening with awe. “Wow. You’re, like, really tall.”

“Huh.” I made a show of pressing my hands to my head and looking down at the floor. “Look at that. I guess I am.”

“How tall are you?”

“Last time I checked”—I pointed to the glowing Produce sign I was regularly having to duck under in order to mop the floor between the apples and oranges—“as tall as it takes to smack my head on that.”

The kid stared at the sign, his mouth open in shock. “Whoa.”

“Yeah. I keep asking Howard to move it, but”—I shrugged—“what can ya do?”

I knelt to pick up the scattered bananas, and the kid mimicked the motion to help.

He never stopped staring at my face.

“My mom said you were in jail,” he blurted out, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Man, I loved kids. They didn’t fuck around. They asked what they wanted to ask, said what they wanted to say. There was no beating around the bush with them, and I appreciated it so much more than the scrutinizing glances and whispers behind my back.

“I was,” I answered with a nod.

“Is that where you got that scar?”

I shook my head as I returned the bananas to their rightful hooks. “No. I got this scar before—”

“Noah!”

The kid turned at the sudden sound of a woman barking what was apparently his name.

That would be Mom, I thought, turning to face a woman in a baggy sweater, tight jeans, and black boots, carrying a handbasket full of groceries.

Her wavy light-brown hair might’ve been drab in color to some, but to me, it reminded me of Sully’s coat. Soft. Irresistible. Comforting.

Like Rain’s hair.

The sudden thought brought with it an odd sense of relief I hadn’t felt in a long time, along with the most curious taste of déjà vu.

And I probably shouldn’t have been staring as much as I was. Especially considering how much it was annoying me to have this entire town staring at me. But I couldn’t seem to help myself when the last time I’d laid my eyes on someone so beautiful was when I saved a fifteen-year-old girl years ago.

Noah’s mom hurried to stand beside him, tugging at his sleeve as she readjusted the basket on her arm, while I took the bananas from his outstretched hand.

“Noah, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Sorry. I was just—”

“We have to get home and make dinner. You still have home—”

As I stood, she gasped before clearing her throat, like she was embarrassed to have gasped at all.

“I-I’m sorry he was bothering you,” she said, diverting her gaze to stare at the things in her basket. “Come on, Noah. Let’s go.”

“He’s fine,” I replied as I busied my hands by wiping them on my apron. “It was nice to actually talk to someone.”

She swallowed, taking a moment to look me over. Then, she forced her lips into a tight smile. “Um … well, have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too.” I waved at her son, already being dragged away by his mom. “Bye, Noah. Thanks for the chat.”

“Bye.” He looked over his shoulder and waved back with a slight curve to one side of his mouth. “I’ll see you around.”