When The Rain Falls

45. Screaming on Mountains

45 SCREAMING ON MOUNTAINS

AIMEE

There’s a crispness in the air, along with the smell of dirt, and pumice, and the shrill cry of a woman screaming.

And that woman is me.

When I woke up this morning, I almost stayed in bed. Before I even threw back my covers, I felt a heaviness settling over my entire body. The heaviness that only comes when life is telling you to give up. My eyes were half swollen shut. And my throat was dry from crying.

I forced myself to lace up my shoes. I figured it was a small step that might be able to propel me forward. Because if you can lace up your shoes, then you can step out the door. And if you can step out the door, you can walk to your car. And if you can walk to your car, you can get in it.

At first, I told myself I was doing this to prove something to Alicia. That I can finish something. But then, I pulled into the parking lot and walked up to the check-in table. And when the volunteer asked me my name, I looked her straight in the eye and said, Aimee Jones .

And that’s when I knew I was doing this for me .

I’m a mile from the finish line. The view of the mountain disappeared a couple miles back and I’m on a single track dirt trail meandering through tall trees.

And I’m screaming.

I’m screaming because I’m doing it. This. Something. And I’m not doing it to be liked. I’m not doing it to win someone’s affection. This isn’t a rehearsed line. A practiced touch. This isn’t what someone does after they’ve been kicked to the curb like recycling. This is what someone does when they’re worth something.

When I round the corner, I see it. The large, blue banner marking the finish line in the distance. I train my eyes on that blue banner with the large white letters. I ignore the cheering crowds of families and friends. I ignore the encouraging handmade signs. I don’t need someone to cheer for me.

I’m cheering for myself.

When my foot lands on the plastic mat marking the end of my journey, someone hooks a race medal around my neck. The second I stop moving, relief floods my body. A wave of extreme deliverance works its way through my nervous system. I slowly come to terms with the fact that everything hurts, but my heart is still pumping. And I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.

Ironically, this thought hits me just as my legs become liquid and I collapse. But even as my limbs fold over each other and I rest my cheeks against the cold asphalt of the parking lot, a part of me is soaring. It’s incredible how you can be in immense physical agony and still feel strong.

My whole life I’ve tried to avoid discomfort. But, turns out, when you face it head on, it’s like looking down the well of your soul. The water might be murky, but your reflection is there. And there’s nothing to stop you from dragging yourself up, pull after exhausting pull, to the surface.

That’s what this race felt like to me. Pulling my body up to the surface from a deep well.

And I finished.

To anyone else, this race might not seem like that big of a deal. But it’s a mountain growing in my soul. A mountain of hope. A mountain of pride. And I’m standing on top of that mountain and I’m still screaming. Screaming at the critical faces. At all the times my family looked at me and found me lacking. All the times men sized me up and determined I was an easy catch. At all the people who only wanted me for a night.

None of that matters right now. Because I’ve become someone who wants herself. I realize, as I’m screaming on my imaginary mountain, that I’m someone who stands up for herself. Someone who finishes things. Someone who could own a business. And I’m also all the things Finn saw in me. Kindness and gentleness.

Is this what they mean by runner’s high?

I roll onto my back and stare up at the blue sky. I soak up the rays warming my face. I breathe the dust in the air. And I try to ignore the feeling of sadness threatening to creep back in. I reach for the race medal around my neck. I smooth it between my fingers, hoping it will trigger another wave of pride. But now, it only feels heavy in my hand.

I try not to think about him. But I do.

The last time I saw him, I decided I was done. I chose myself because I thought I was too weak to handle his storms. I was too weak to be constantly tossed about by his heart. Always wondering. Always questioning. But now I know that isn’t true. I wasn’t weak at all.

I was strong.

I was strong for walking away.

Standing up for myself meant walking away from the only person who ever made me feel like I belonged somewhere. So, did I really win anything? Why does winning sometimes feel like losing?

But also, I didn’t want to make him choose between us. Maybe you only truly love once. And if that’s the case, then there will never be space for me in his heart. Not when it’s so full of her. And maybe I’m afraid to make him choose. Because what if he doesn’t choose me?

And what if he does? And what if he regrets it? I know, first hand, what it’s like to give yourself away when you’re not ready for the consequences that might follow. That’s what I’ve done my whole life. I don’t want him to feel the same pain. I don’t want him to choose me over her and then regret what he lost.

I try to ease the ache in my heart. The ache I feel over wanting to give him everything. But not being able to. I blink back the tears. I study the clouds and try to think of something that will stop the way my heart feels like it’s caving in.

A commotion in the parking lot pulls me back to reality. I ease myself up and wrap my arms around my leg as my head swivels towards the sound of a honking horn. There’s also the sound of a car door slamming and people shouting. My eyebrows pull together in confusion as I try to make sense of what’s happening. My attention is drawn towards a crowd of people just as that crowd is parted by a figure barreling forward, a duffel bag over his shoulder. My chest seizes instantly. Because I recognize that figure. I recognize the broad shoulders and the handsome face.

He’s here?

He came for me?

My throat threatens to close in on itself as I swallow my surprise. Goosebumps spread across my skin even as my body warms all over. Both my palms hit the ground as I push myself up.

“Aimee!” Finn shouts as he scans his surroundings, taking in the groups of runners.

“Finn!” I yell back as I scramble to my feet. “I’m here!” He seeks me out and when his eyes land on mine, his face cracks into a wide grin. He drops his duffel bag and runs straight toward me. But I’m already running to him.

When we meet, we instantly make impact. I slam into his chest as his arms curl around me. His face buries its way into my neck. My tears fall against his chest, soaking his shirt. The tips of my eyelashes fluttering against his body. Holding him never felt so good.

I squeeze him tightly and he squeezes back. I’m struggling to breathe. But who needs air? Who needs air when they have a hug like this .

“You did it, baby,” he whispers into my neck. “I knew you would. I’m sorry I’m late. I got here as fast as I could.” My breathing feels ragged now. I let his voice wash over me like a warm wave as tears fill my throat.

“You’re here,” I manage to croak out, enjoying the way his arms are holding me. “That’s all that matters.”

“No, that’s not all that matters,” he protests. “What matters is that you listen to me. What matters is what I’m about to tell you, baby.” He pulls back, just far enough so I can tip my face up to him. My eyes rest on his. They’re not just stormy grey. They’re also red. And his shortly-cropped hair is unruly. And there’s several days of stubble on his jaw. And butterfly bandages are holding a cut closed across his forehead. Before I can ask about his appearance, he continues.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave,” he begins.

“Finn, I didn’t want to. But I had to leave,” I cut him off. “Because I didn’t want you to choose between us. You’re not ready. You need more time. You love her. And I can’t ask you to give her up for me.”

As tears pour down my cheek, Finn uses the rough pad of his thumb to brush them away. “Aimee,” he hushes me. “I’m sorry. Sorry that I made you believe it was either her or you.” Finn tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and kisses my forehead.

“The other day,” his voice cracks, “What you saw.” He pauses and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry for what you saw. I was trying to tell her goodbye. And it was so fucking hard. But, Aimee, I don’t need more time. I don’t want more time. I only want you, darling.” Finn’s hands cradle my head against his chest. I’m filled with the comforting sound of his heart beating. “So often now, you’re the only thing I see. It scared me. I spent so long believing I couldn’t love again that I never let myself imagine what might happen if I did. I closed my heart off to love. I practically closed it off to life. It took you, Aimee. Bold, bright, and strong, to bring me back. You ripped the Band-Aid off so quickly that you took all my scar tissue with it.”

He’s half-chuckling now and I can feel his chest vibrating against my cheek before he drops a kiss in my hair. “And you’re right, Aimee. I wasn’t ready. I don’t think I’d ever have been ready. Not for the way my soul aches for you. Not for the way you changed everything in my life.”

I open my mouth to respond, as his words warm me from the inside out, but the words don’t stop pouring out of him.

“Aimee, you’re unrivaled in this world. You laugh at the dark and you dance in the rain. It’s fucking insane and I love it. Who on earth would ever be ready for you?” His eyes water as he chuckles. “But you were everything that I needed. And you’re all I fucking want.”

A breeze blows across the parking lot. It flutters his shirt, it whips at my shorts. I shiver as I bury myself closer to him.

“But Laurel,” I protest. “She was perfect for you and I don’t want to?—”

“I love her,” he says quickly. “And I’ll always love her. She was perfect for me. But that was then. You’re perfect for me now. And, fuck. I’m the luckiest man on Earth, Aimee. Because who finds perfection twice in a lifetime?”

Finn takes my head with both hands. “And who gets to love like this twice?” His fingertips brush against my ears, his thumbs caressing my cheeks.

My heart flies out of my chest at his words and I wonder how my feet are still touching the ground. I squeeze him tight. If only to prove to myself that this moment is real. I run my hands along the curves and plains of his strong back as that word swirls around in my brain.

Love.

“You really love me?” I ask, hoping the question doesn’t sound as pathetic in his ears as it sounds in mine.

Men have told me they love the way I make them feel. That they love the way I touch them. But no one has ever told me they love me .

“Fuck, yes,” he murmurs, his soft voice overflowing with something warm. “So fucking much.”

I think I love him, too. But I’m not certain I know what love is supposed to feel like. And every time I think I’m certain about something, the rug gets pulled out from under me.

“How do you know?” I fall into his soft grey eyes. I look for my answers there. Because if anyone knows love, it’s this man. This man who’s pined away for his wife for nine years. If that’s not love, then what is?

What’s the difference between a fling and forever?

He tips my chin up, his eyes falling intently on mine. “I know because for the first time in nine years, I can imagine a future, Aimee. And the only future I can imagine is one with you in it.” He pauses as he considers his next words. “You make me want to fight for something. And you give me a reason to do it.”

My heart isn’t fluttering. Not the way it usually does when he’s near. Instead, it feels liquified into something warm, serene, and full. I trace his jaw, admiring how strong it makes him look.

“What are you fighting for, Finn?” I whisper up to his face.

“For you, Aimee. For us. And for me. I’ll do all the fucking anger management in the world. Whatever it takes to be better. To be someone you deserve. Someone worthy of you.”

“You’re already that person,” I assure him.

Finn shakes his head and lets out a deep sigh. “Not yet. But I will be. I want to be everything for you.”

“I’ll help you,” I assure him. “I’ll always be here for you. No matter how hard it is. For the longest time, I just wanted love–"

“Baby, that is love,” Finn assures me quickly. “Wanting to hold someone through their darkness. Choosing to stay.” Finn brushes his thumbs across my cheeks again.

“Then,” I whisper through the well of tears in my throat, “then I’ve been loving you for weeks.” I confess. “And I don’t ever want to stop.”

Finn pulls away just far enough to roam his gaze over my face. “Thank you, darling,” he says softly. He presses the tip of his nose to mine as I feel out the familiar grooves of his dimples and rest the pads of my thumb in them. Then he kisses me. It’s a sweet, gentle kiss. A kiss that heals something deep within me. A kiss that tells me I finally found what I was looking for. A kiss that tells me he’s holding something back for later. When we’re alone.

“What happened to your head?” I finally ask, running my fingers over the butterfly bandages above his eyebrows.

Finn pulls back and touches his forehead. Then his eyebrows crinkle together. “I crashed the van,” he explains. “On the way here. It’s wrecked.” Then he gives me a sly raise of the eyebrows. “Also, you should see the other guy.”

A smile curls my lips as I begin to chuckle.

“I’m serious,” he says solemnly. “I had a concussion and, I punched the EMT trying to keep me for observation. I did that for you, babe.”

“ Romantic ,” I say dryly, trying to hold back laughter.

“I’m actually kind of worried about it.” Finn turns slightly and scans the parking lot. “Law enforcement might be after me.”

“Jail’s not so bad,” I tell him as I pat his shoulder.

“Excuse me?” Finn turns his attention back to me and gives me a shocked look.

“I never told you about the night I spent in jail?” I say casually. The way his face turns murderous nearly has me doubling over in laughter. It wasn’t actually a full night. Alicia’s bail money came through pretty quickly. But I feel like it gives me some street cred. I feel like taking credit for the whole night.

“Fucking hell. I should have insisted on that background check,” he grumbles. He hoists me off the ground and I curl my legs around his waist.

“Would it have mattered?” I ask. He considers, then one side of his mouth shoots upward.

“No,” he finally says, kissing the underside of my jaw. “Because I already knew you were a criminal. The way you stole my heart.”

My body clenches in laughter as I let out a fake groan. “Ugh, dad joke,” I cough.

“That’s rich,” he grumbles playfully. “Coming from someone who insists on calling me Daddy.”