She’s My Kind Of Rain (Rawlings Ranch #1)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

MAY 5, 1997

SAWYER

The best day of my seventeen-year-old life

Jimmy Goodall, ironically, doesn’t have a good fuckin’ bone in his body.

And today is no exception.

He’s been at me all day with little comments in the hall, shoving me when the teachers turn their heads, tripping me and sending my books splaying across the floor, and now talking shit the moment we both exit the building after the final bell.

“No one fuckin’ likes you, you little bitch.” The cruel words stumble out of his mouth like it’s second nature.

I ignore him. What else can I really do? He’s easily twice my size. Besides, it doesn’t matter if I say anything, it won’t stop him from being an ass to me, and it won’t change the fact that I am scrawny, like he says, or the fact that I really don’t have any friends here either. Mostly because whenever someone has tried to befriend me, his behavior flows over to them and I don’t blame them for not wanting any part in that.

“Did you fuckin’ hear me, Skimpy Sawyer?” His voice raises an octave. My silence only ever seems to upset him more. But my choices are pretty limited.

I ignore him, trying not to feed into his behavior because I know I shouldn’t let him have that. Jimmy falls silent, and for a moment, relief floods through me. Maybe for once, he’ll leave me alone. But then the sound of his heavy breathing quickens, along with his fast footsteps as we make our way out toward the school’s front gate. My sense of relief recedes, replaced with anticipation for whatever he plans to do next.

A sharp jab to my back sends me lurching forward, my feet failing me as I trip, barely catching my balance. Anger rises in me, and before I even think through the situation, I swing my body toward him with my fist in tow. I meet his gaze the moment my fist makes contact with his nose, sending a shriek permeating the air, and blood begins to pour from his nostril. Tilting his head back, he grabs at his face, screaming like I just tried to kill him.

Shock ripples through me. Never once have I hit someone, let alone hard enough to cause actual damage. Part of me feels relief, because he is too worried about his nose to worry about me, while the other part fears what he’s going to do once he regains composure. I consider running until I hear Mr. Ludley, our principal, yell our names.

Turning toward the sound of his voice, I raise both hands in surrender. I still don’t even fully understand what happened, why I snapped. It’s like my brain went numb, and my fist took over.

“Office. Now.” His voice is stern and I start walking without a single argument. “Both of you, Mr. Goodall,” he finishes, and part of me is glad I am not the only one in trouble, but also nervous because I know Jimmy will do all he can to victimize himself in this situation.

Much to my surprise, he follows without argument, which is completely unlike him. He’s the type of guy who has an excuse ready for just about anything. But, I guess it would be hard to come up with a story when he’s busy sobbing into his blood coated hands as he tries—and fails—to stop the bleeding. A small part of me takes pride that I finally managed to shut him up—if only for a moment.

Our feet clack up the concrete stairs as we approach the school entrance. Mr. Ludley grabs ahold of our elbows as he mutters about how unacceptable our behavior is, followed by the fact that it’s Friday and that he should have chosen a job that didn’t involve dealing with adolescence.

Once we reach the nurse’s office, Mr. Ludley gives her clear instructions to clean Jimmy up and then to seat him outside his office to avoid any funny business . He casts a harsh stare Jimmy’s way, mentioning that he already has his mom on speed dial. It takes everything in me not to laugh, but I hold it back. I don’t want Mr. Ludley to tell my parents that I treated this situation like it was a joke, and I wonder just how much trouble I’m going to be in after this. It has to be worth something that I did it in self defense, right?

Without a word from Mr. Ludley, I obediently follow him until I’m seated in his office.

He exits the room without saying a word until I hear, “Hello, Mrs. Mason, this is Mr. Ludley. I apologize for the phone call. There has been an incident involving Sawyer at school and we request your immediate presence.”

I can only imagine what my mom is thinking. She’s probably worried I’m hurt since I’ve never been in trouble before. I wonder what she and dad will think when they find out I was involved in a fight. Not only that, but I broke a kid’s nose.

Mr. Ludley then calls Jimmy’s mom, mirroring the exact conversation he just had with mine.

Sweat drips at my brow. I don’t like being in trouble. Not that I have much experience in that department. I’ve always been a rule follower, a people pleaser, and I hate getting grounded—even if it doesn’t really affect me much with my lack of friends. But the idea of disappointing Mom and Dad sends a twinge of guilt through me.

He walks back in the room. “Please remain seated here until your parents arrive. I am going to go check on Mr. Goodall.” His tone is lighter than earlier, and I hope that means if he’s picking a side, it’s going to be mine. He emits a soft huff as he reaches his door and turns back towards me. “Sawyer,” he pauses, “This isn’t like you, and I assume there is valid reasoning for whatever transpired, but given that you are not the injured one here, my hands are tied, but I’ll try to be fair in your punishment.”

Confusion consumes me. We haven’t even discussed what happened. He leans against his door frame and continues, “I’ve been in your shoes, and for what it’s worth, I am sorry for whatever he did to provoke this.” Swiveling on his heel, he makes his way out of the office before I have the chance to respond.

I sit in silence, looking around the bleak room. The walls are tan and decorated with inspirational posters about learning being awesome, and a cat hanging on to a branch for dear life that says Hang in there .

I allow myself a chuckle that surfaces at the satire of that line, wondering if the poster is meant as a reminder for Mr. Ludley, or the kids sent to his office for any number of reasons. Hanging in there never once helped with Jimmy, which is who led me to this seat in the first place. I ponder that thought until I notice movement and turn to look back towards the front office where I see Mr. Ludley seat shithead Jimmy, a bloody cloth still held tightly to his nose. Shortly behind him is his mom, who is much more petite than her son, with what seems like a more gentle demeanor as she rushes to his side after noticing his nose. I wonder how someone who appears to be so pleasant could produce such a vile child.

My parents enter next, with worry written on their faces. My dad notices Jimmy’s wound first and turns to my mom, his eyes bugging out in shock. She softly touches his shoulder, grounding his reaction, then steps in front of him to shake Mr. Ludley’s hand before nodding to Jimmy and his mom. It’s an odd feeling to see everyone as if I am a fly on the wall, but it makes me feel better to see my parents’ composed response to the situation.

“Good afternoon, folks.” Mr. Ludley and I make eye contact. He motions for me to exit his office, and I do as I’m told. “I wish I could say we were all meeting on better terms, but as you know, the boys here—” He gestures to Jimmy and myself. “Got in a bit of a tussle just after the final bell. Jimmy’s nose is broken, but the nurse has assured me he will be fine and that it does not need any further medical attention.”

Jimmy’s mom gasps, embracing him in her arms, while both of my parents’ attention now focus on me as I reach them.

I divert my gaze, keeping my eyes locked on the ground, not wanting to meet Mom’s stare, knowing if I do she will immediately see that I don’t feel sorry for hitting Jimmy. I know I probably should, but I’m not going to lie and say that I wound’t do it again if I were in the same position.

“Now, Sawyer, would you like to explain what happened?” Mr. Ludley, urges me to answer.

I look up from the floor, forcing myself to make eye contact with Mr. Ludley. I don’t need to further the consequences my parents will likely deem fit, by coming across as disrespectful. I consider that Jimmy is only a few feet away but decide that it’s probably best if I’m honest. My mom’s punishment will most likely be far worse than anything Mr. Ludley chooses. Wishing that I had time to think through my answer, rather than blurt out something I can’t take back, I release a deep breath before I respond.

“He doesn’t like me. He always makes remarks about how skinny I am and how I have no friends. Today was no different. He pestered me throughout the day, tripped me in the hall, and then continued it after the bell rang.” I keep eye contact with Mr. Ludley since he is the person who directed the question and is honestly the only person I think truly understands after what he had said earlier in his office. “I tried to ignore him, but then he pushed me, and without thinking I just swung.” I stop there, knowing I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of doing it many times prior to today. I don’t want to make any of this worse.

“Skimp—I mean Sawyer hit me! He should—” Jimmy tries to contest but his mother shushes him when she hears him nearly call me a name.

Mr. Ludley clears his throat. “As long as both parents see fit, I believe both boys have handled this situation poorly. They have earned pink slips and after-school detention for the next three weeks and Sawyer is no longer allowed to go on the class trip planned for next week.” He gives an awkward glance to both of our parents and then us. “These slips will go on your permanent record and any additional issues will result in another much lengthier conversation with your parents, as well as both of you. Are we all in agreement here?”

Jimmy’s mom looks unsure if she should fight for her son or be thankful that he isn’t in more trouble, while my parents seem to be having a silent conversation amongst themselves, leading to my mom nodding her head on both of their behalf.

“Mr. and Mrs. Mason, I would like to further discuss your son’s actions for a moment in my office, and Mrs. Goodall, as long as you do not need anything further you and Jimmy are free to go.”

His mom takes a moment to glance at me, a soft smile permeating her face and I wonder again how someone so mean could come from someone who seems so tender and as kind as her. Gathering Jimmy’s things, she shakes Mr. Ludley’s hand, and exits the office motioning Jimmy to follow.

He scoffs at me as he walks past, and it takes everything in me not to swing again. To deck that dipshit once more in the hopes that maybe next time he will think twice about messing with me. My mom notices and gives him a look that would set even the worst of them straight. I let out a small laugh, then receive the same look he did. I straighten up because I know that once we leave this school this discussion isn’t over.

My parents and Mr. Ludley enter his office while I take a seat in the chair that Jimmy previously occupied. Their private chat lasts about ten minutes before the door opens again and I am met with what appears to be happy faces. Happy should be good, right? Maybe I won’t be in as much trouble as I was expecting. My principal shakes both of their hands and then we exit the school, making our way towards my mom’s red Audi convertible, the single most flashy thing about her.

We settle into our seats and before Dad even starts the engine Mom begins to speak. “Honey, what happened today is not acceptable behavior.”

“Mom I—” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“Mr. Ludley informed us that Jimmy has been in his office multiple times this year for bullying,” she huffs and continues. “I wish you would have told us about this.” Her tone shifts to a slightly more gentle demeanor. “We cannot help you if we don’t know something is wrong. I am sorry that it had to get to the point of violence, which we both know is very unlike you.”

My father nods, keeping his eyes on the road seemingly having nothing to add.

“I don’t want you back at that school,” her tone is laced with worry. “This could have ended much differently had he decided to hit you after you hit him, and Mr. Ludley agreed. But since you were the one to hit him, the most he could offer was keeping you separated during school hours. He pointed out that this will only draw attention to the situation and wanted us to be aware if we decided to take that route.”

Guilt sits in the pit of my stomach even though they are making it clear that they know this isn’t my fault. “I am really sorry,” I say softly, “I honestly didn’t think about it, it just happened. I didn’t mention it because I thought if I ignored it long enough he would just leave me alone. I don’t want to go back there either. I have no friends thanks to Jimmy, and you saw him, he is piss—” I hesitate because I know open communication probably doesn’t grant me a pass for cussing. “ —Mad I got away with hitting him.”

The car is silent besides the soft wind blowing as my dad drives down the road.

“What about staying with Pops?” My mom offers. “I know you love being at the ranch and it will only be for a short while. Plus, I think working with the cattle who are just as bull-headed as Jimmy might prove to be beneficial for you to help navigate feelings that arise in a stressful situation. And trust me they will provide a chance or two for you to work on that.” She lets out a little laugh seemingly reminiscing on a moment from her past. “Pops has been rather lonely since we moved to North Carolina. It might be good for both of you.”

“You’d really let me do that?” I let out, shocked by what I can only describe as a reward.

“As long as we all agree that’s what makes the most sense for you and Pops agrees, I don’t see why not. And you can come back once the school year is over. You only have a month to go anyway.” Her tone is warm.

Releasing a breath, my dad adds, “I agree with your mom, I think that separating the both of you makes the most sense if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, if you guys think that’s what’s best.” I try not to sound too excited, but then realize that they are clearly on my side so they probably won’t be mad at me for enjoying this new plan, so I add, “Yeah, then Pops can teach me guitar like he always says he’s going to.”

Little did I know, punching Jimmy had been the best decision I ever made, and it wasn’t because of revenge, but rather for the time I got to spend with my favorite person on this earth, Pops .

DAISY

The worst day of my sixteen-year-old life

Mornings are always the same around here. My mom has gone early to work at Delilah’s Flower Shop—a store she opened a few years back—while my dad and I enjoy the nice weather outside as he loads his truck with a new shipment of flower pots my mom ordered for the store.

“That pot a little heavy for ya, Dais?” My dad jokes out as I square up my legs with a pot that I thought would be light, only to find that it weighs incredibly more than I thought.

How can something so small be so ridiculously heavy?

We laugh as I utter an exaggerated grunt, lifting the little ceramic pot just high enough to get it into the back of his truck.

“Can we have a bonfire this weekend?” I ask, wiping the sweat from my brow, knowing all too well that the answer will be yes before he even speaks a word.

Smile lines shape around his ocean blue eyes, his happy-go-lucky smirk reaches his lips, and a soft laugh seeps out of him while he says, “You don’t have to threaten me with a good time, Dais. Of course we can. I’ll let Mom know once I get to the shop so she can call everyone and set a time. She’s a planner, that one.” He winks and we both giggle at his joke.

My dad absolutely loves spending time with friends around a campfire and pulling out his Gibson to serenade us all with every country and rock tune that he knows. Unlike most people here in Tansy Bay, he actually has the talent to back up every note he sings, and with that, I use any excuse I can to make sure everyone gets to hear it.

He hops down from the bed of his rusty Chevy pickup truck, slamming the tailgate shut, and turns back towards me.

“Let’s grill out too. We can have all the fixins’ and we will even get s’mores stuff since I know that’s the reason y’all show up anyways.” He grins, excitement ringing in his tone, almost as if he’s more excited to plan this event than me.

I laugh. If there’s one thing I’m known for, it’s my sweet tooth and always making sure there’s s’mores at our bonfires. But the real reason I love our little parties most is because I love to hear my dad sing.

“It will be a good ol’ time like always. I love you, Dais. I’ll see you later ton—” He stops mid-sentence, a stunned look now in his eyes as he grabs his chest, one side of his face looking frozen in time while the other shows a slight droop.

“Dad?” I say, concern washing over me.

He goes to speak but nothing comes out, fear written over his face as he looks at me. He falls to his knees, still grasping his chest, and I scream. What’s happening? Something is wrong, very wrong. I go to reach for him, but he’s motioning toward the door and I think I need to get him some help.

“I’ll call 911, Dad. I’ll be right back. I promise.” I choke out the words, trying my best to remain calm.

I rush up the stairs from the back door into my kitchen and straight to the phone. I dial 9-1-1, panic rushing through every inch of my body. The cord to the phone is too short to reach the window so I can’t check on my dad as the lady on the other line asks me a series of questions. Frustration and terror build until I finally scream, “Please just send someone. Something is wrong, my dad is on the ground and I don’t—He—” I break down. I don’t know what to do, or what is wrong, and my mom isn’t home so there is no one to check on my dad, and all I can think about is the last look I saw in his eyes before the moment I left him. I screech my address into the phone, drop it, and run out the door.

I reach my dad and his body lays there lifeless. I drop to my knees not sure what to do or how to help. I grab at him, yelling for him to wake up, but he doesn’t move or make a sound. I don’t know how much time passes before I hear the wail of the ambulance sirens and the chatter of paramedics as they rush to his aid. Someone begins to peel me off of him and I grasp my dad’s limp wrist, holding on for dear life. Tears stream down my face and panic radiates throughout my body. Everything becomes a blur.

And just like that, he’s gone.