Chapter 17 #3
I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue further.
Instead, I leaned back against the brick wall of the old warehouse across from the truck, looking out at the rain-slicked street, the world gray and empty except for the two of us and the distant hum of cars driving by.
“It’s nice, though,” I admitted quietly. “Just this. No expectations.”
Patrick nodded, finishing off his first taco before folding his arms and gazing out at the rain. “Yeah,” he said, his tone softer now, matching the stillness around us. “No expectations.”
There was something peaceful in the simplicity of it, something that felt like it had been missing from our lives for a long time.
We stood there, side by side, eating in silence as the rain fell, neither of us needing to say much more.
For now, it was enough. I could feel the weight of his presence beside me, steady and familiar, and for the first time in a while, it wasn’t something I wanted to run from.
The rain softened after a while, settling into a quiet patter rather than a downpour.
I glanced up at the sky, watching the clouds thin slightly, though no sun threatened to break through.
Patrick turned to me, his eyes catching mine in that subtle way that always made my stomach flip, even when I tried to pretend it didn’t.
“Do you want to walk?” he asked, tilting his head toward the narrow alleyway that cut between the warehouses, its cobblestone streets glistening under the streetlights.
“Sure,” I said, wiping the rain from my face, the idea of continuing this strange, aimless afternoon feeling appealing.
It was easier not to overthink everything, to just go with it for once.
We had spent so much time overthinking, second-guessing, trying to solve everything in a boardroom or over tense dinners.
Maybe there was something to be said for just walking and letting things fall into place naturally, even if it meant walking through puddles and getting soaked all over again.
We tossed the foil wrappers into a nearby bin, then started off down the alley, our footsteps echoing off the brick walls, the soft sound of rain filling in the gaps between our breathing.
I wasn’t sure how long we walked, the streets blurring together in a quiet haze of muted colors and the soft glow of streetlights reflected in wet cobblestones.
It felt like the city had been put on pause, like it was just for us, an endless corridor of possibilities with no pressure at the end.
We turned another corner and found ourselves back in front of the museum, the large hangar looming under the still dark sky.
Neither of us seemed surprised to be back, nor in any rush to go inside.
I stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of Patrick’s gaze on me as he stopped beside me, our hands brushing by accident but neither of us pulling away.
“I don’t think I’ve felt this good in a long time,” he said quietly, the words more to himself than to me, but I heard them clearly.
“Me either,” I said softly, my eyes focused on the rain-slick pavement at my feet. The storm inside me had calmed, just like the sky, and for a moment, I could almost imagine what it would be like to start over, to move forward from here, without all the baggage of the past dragging us down.
Patrick shifted closer, his presence warm beside me despite the cool rain that still fell around us.
I looked up, my breath catching slightly when I met his eyes.
There was something unspoken between us, something that had been simmering beneath the surface since that first morning in the hangar when everything shifted.
The space between us shrank, the world around us fading until it was just his face, his expression soft with a tenderness I had forgotten.
And then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed me.
It was gentle at first, careful, as if he was testing the waters, making sure I wouldn’t pull away.
But I didn’t. I leaned into him, my hands finding his damp shirt and gripping the fabric as I let myself feel what I had been suppressing for weeks.
The kiss deepened, not desperate but sure, the kind of certainty that had been missing for a long time.
The rain continued to fall, but it no longer mattered, the world around us disappearing into the background as the connection between us became the only thing that mattered.
The taste of him mixed with the rain on my lips, cool and familiar, grounding me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.
When we finally pulled back, both of us breathless and drenched, there was a flicker of something new between us, a tentative hope that maybe the storm was finally clearing.
It was just one moment, one kiss, but it felt like the start of something real, something we could both hold on to.
And in the middle of that Seattle downpour, standing under the museum overhang, it seemed like just enough.
I smiled at him, a real smile this time, no walls or pretense. And as we headed inside, I didn’t feel the usual rush to retreat into myself. Instead, I felt like maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of us finding each other again.