Praying for Rain (The Rain Trilogy, #1)

by B.B. Easton

I’m actually glad she ran off. That one had desperate clinger with daddy issues written all over her, and the last thing I need is another mouth to feed.

Tell me I did good. Tell me you’re proud of me. Tell me you’ll keep me forever and ever.

Rain is mine. I stole her. I’m using her. I made her come less than an hour ago, and I don’t appreciate her parading around in front of me with some other asshole’s jersey on.

I’m not stupid. I know I look like every girl’s wet dream, and I use it to my advantage whenever possible. My looks and my resourcefulness are the only tools I’ve been given in this life. Everything else I’ve had to beg for, borrow, or fucking steal. Including the little black-haired tool drooling in front of me.

Crouching down, I look her dead in the fucking eyes and whisper, “Hey, what’s our job?” The other corner of her mouth quirks up to match the first. “To say fuck ’em and survive anyway?”

I’ve finally found what I’ve been missing my whole life, and if I keep it, it will kill me. No wonder Rain was wearing a black hoodie when I met her. She’s the fifth fucking horseman of the apocalypse.

“What could you possibly prioritize over surviving?” Rain asks, becoming eye-level with me as she steps onto the first rung of the tree-house ladder. “Living.” I smile. Then, I lean forward and kiss my girl while I still can.

As I rush to him, my mind goes back to the day we met. We were in the same preschool class, and I found Quint off by himself on the first day of school, quietly eating Play-Doh behind Ms. Gibson’s desk. He begged me not to tell on him. I didn’t, of course. I sat and ate some with him just to see what all the fuss was about.