Saturday Night
Jason sat on his couch, drinking a beer. His TV was on, but down low—the local radar channel showing the greens and oranges of the storm rolling in. Though just looking out his front window clued him in.
The sky lit up every so often from the lightning hidden in the coming wall cloud. Mother Nature was always gorgeous to watch, especially in the spring.
Maybe he’d get a tornado.
Let some of the natural chaos rip away some of his internal chaos.
On the plus side, at least it hadn’t hit during the cook-off. Thunderstorms, or worse, were no fun when everything was in tents.
He’d only gotten unloaded an hour ago, and while he knew he was hungry, he couldn’t bring himself to eat any of the leftovers.
Lightning flashed outside, reflecting off his third-place trophy.
Third.
Well, at least it wasn’t last place. Yeah, that was what he could tell himself. Because it looked like he wasn’t going to win much of anything else in the near future.
Ava was gone.
Tessa was back with Lucas.
Jason felt like a third-place finisher in a three-man Round Robin.
Sucked ass.
Another rumble of thunder started, and Jason stood, deciding he’d go watch the storm roll in. The bungalow house had a nice wide porch, and while he preferred the privacy of his backyard, he’d never be able to see the storm come in from back there.
He walked onto the porch and dropped in the patio chair. The sky lit up like an explosion from heaven as more lightning tore up the heavy black clouds.
Yeah, totally matched his mood.
The temperature had dropped a good twenty degrees, and the wind picked up. Each hard blast sprayed him with rain. The cold chill felt good.
At least something felt good.
He should thank his lucky stars he got third at the cook-off. He’d been so off his game. He yelled at his dad twice, almost dropped his blind boxes when delivering them and stuttered every time he tried to say something.
It was not a good day. Especially when the realization hit him, early this morning, that Ava wasn’t coming back.
He’d heard the verdict, yet some part of him hoped she’d find a way. At least before, anyway. Now, though, he knew better. They’d never let her go.
It was a whole other realm that he couldn’t quite grasp—out of his understanding. The whole idea of eternity, that she’d be forever up there. Or over there, or whatever it was.
Maybe she’d put in a good word for him on judgment day.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
The love of his life, waiting for him in the afterlife. At least he’d get to see her again sometime.
He closed his eyes and listened to the thunder pound in the air. He could hear cars in the distance, splashing at the dip in the road a half a block down. Storms always eased his mind. Took away the little stresses—after all, whether he got the water bill paid was of little consequence when the planet up and tried to kill him with one of its temper tantrums.
That was what his mother had always called storms…
Earth’s temper tantrums.
A boom of thunder punctuated his thought.
“Maybe the Powers That Be are frustrated for me,” he muttered, then shook off the silly thought. His mother had been the spiritualist. All her connections between everything had filled his brain with all kinds of notions when he was a kid. The older he got, though, the less he saw them.
Didn’t want to see them, really.
Though, tonight, the idea that Earth was as pissed off as he was soothed him.
More lightning.
More thunder.
And a whine of a motorcycle.
Jason smirked.
“Wouldn’t want to be that guy,” he mused as the whine got closer. He glanced to his right, where the sound seemed to be coming from.
Sure enough, he saw the single headlight of a motorcycle coming his way.
He watched, amused, as the black crotch rocket flew past his house. As fast as it was going, he shifted from amused to irritated.
What kind of moron drove like that in the rain?
Fucktard.
Then he heard it brake. It sounded like it slowed and stopped, with a whirr of it turning, maybe?
In a second, the light from the bike pierced the rain. Yep, the guy had turned around.
The bike came back, not so fast this time, and slowed as it approached his house.
Pulled in the drive.
Adrenaline pumped through Jason. Who in the hell—
He leaped up, ready to fight—he didn’t know anyone with a black crotch rocket.
The driver pulled off the full helmet. Red hair fell down the driver’s back, and she—because it was obvious, with those curves, it was a she—climbed off the bike.
Jason’s heart skipped a beat.
Ava.
The deluge of rain immediately soaked her hair as she turned and their gazes met.
Someone could have shot him, and he would have been less shocked.
Ava!
“Jason,” she yelled through the rain.
He ran down the stairs, not caring that the rain pummeled him. He had to get to her.
He had to.
They met in his yard, and he wrapped his arms around her. They slammed together, and he kissed her with everything he was worth, pouring all of his hurt, his pain and his joy into the kiss as the rain drenched them. He held her tight, unable to fathom this.
Was this real?
Was he dreaming?
He put his hand in her hair—he could smell that sweet, soft smell of hers, mixed with the smell of fresh rain.
Rain that was washing away everything. Including the pain and the hurt.
“Ava,” he whispered and nuzzled her neck.
“Jason… Oh, Jason.” She tipped her head back, moaning as he kissed her throat.
He kept kissing her. Even through the downpour, he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t. He had to feel her, to taste her. Even to take her. Here on his lawn.
He didn’t care.
He wasn’t letting her get away again.
Mine.
It pounded in his head, like the rain.
Mine…
“Jason, wait… The rain.”
He didn’t want to break away from her. “What? Can’t you just shield us?” He released her just enough to wave his hand.
She shook her head. Her eyes wet, but not from the rain.
He blinked.
“I’m mortal. I’m not a fairy anymore.”
He nodded, turned…and went back inside his house.