Follow the River (River of Rain, #1)

by C.E. Ricci

He’s every deadly sin wrapped in a single heartbreaking package.

I didn’t ask to be bisexual, just wake up one day and decide I think I like dick as much as I like pussy and now the rest is history. This is who I am to my very core, and I can’t change that.

It’s me not being able to own my own shit, deal with my own past. It’s not on him, and I know it. But for the life of me, I can’t seem to let it go.

Because deep down…we both know my words, each and every one, is a goddamn lie.

Him. How? I couldn’t say. I just know it’s him. Just like I know he will catch whatever I throw his way on the field. Like an instinct. A second skin. The other half of a whole.

No matter how much I want to drag him out of here by the collar of his shirt and scream in his face for being such an asshole. Or bend him over and fuck him for the entire class to watch. You know, whichever would help him learn I won’t back down faster.

No, what I regret the most…was coming back to the hotel to see River’s face for the split second before he lit into me. I’ve never seen another human look so…distraught. Like somehow, me leaving him there and going out was the worst thing to ever happen to him. Which makes no sense. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling an immense amount of guilt for it.

Because as much as I can’t stand it, I’m not indifferent to him. I feel the chemistry buzzing between us. It’s liquid hot. I’d have to be deaf, dumb, and stupid to not feel it. Doesn’t mean I want it.

“River deserves so much more than the likes of you for a father,”

“You aren’t disgusting, River. He is.”

I wear my heart on my sleeve, caring about people who couldn’t give a damn about me, and unfortunately, it’s a fatal flaw. One I can’t seem to break free from.

“Look, Grady, it’s simple. If you think you’re lost, just follow the river.” Follow River. Is he fucking serious?

Most of all, I hate how, if things were different, I wouldn’t hate him at all. Even now, I don’t know if I actually do.

For fuck’s sake, men have a prostate for a reason, so anyone unwilling to use it is wasting a gift from God himself.

“Make no mistake about it, Rain. I will make you regret this until your dying day. I don’t know when and I don’t know how. Mark my words, it will happen. And this pain is going to be worth it when I finally bring you to your fucking knees.”

But he’s been warned. This war has only just begun. I wait until I hear the click of the door latching shut before I curl into myself and sob. Cold, mangled, and defeated.

With my back to the door of my bedroom, I sink to the ground and place my head in my hands. What the fuck have I done?

“And when I fuck you? When I get to sink into that tight ass of yours and fill you with my cum? Goddamn, you’re going to be fucking ruined. You’ll never want anyone else. That is my promise to you.”

“Why do you deny yourself when you know I can make you feel so good?” It’s not a taunt, but a legitimate question. One, for the life of me, I don’t have the answer to.

Accept this is who you are, so you can start to enjoy being stranded in a fucking cabin in the woods with me for another four weeks. Shit. I don’t want him to be right. But he is. I don’t want to want him. But I do.

Fuck, I want him. It’s the most confusing and infuriating thing I’ve ever experienced.

I’m beginning to realize resisting him was a futile effort from the start, and I thank my lucky stars I don’t have to anymore. Because right now? He’s all fucking mine.

Besides, when it comes to the usage of Mean Girls references, the limit does not exist.

Ciaráin Grady was tailor-made for heartbreak.

“The color…it reminded me of your eyes.” He says it in a way like it’s a simple fact and he didn’t just flatten my world like a pancake with less than ten words. Like the fact that this…is more special to me than any apology he could ever give me.

It makes me thankful I’m giving this experience to him. Though he hasn’t opened up to me, shown me his scars and demons, I know he battles them each day. I hope a nice dose of nature might give him a break from it. If only for today.

“I just wanted to kiss you,” I gasp, and this time, it’s not a lie. “So, kiss me.” And kiss me, he fucking does.

“I just wanted to make you shut up by making you fall.” I’m starting to think you have…in more ways than one.

“There is nothing for you to be ashamed of. Not one goddamn thing. So, fuck them. Fuck them all, and the ignorant, hateful horses they rode in on.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” “Don’t,” he cuts me off, pulling back to look at me again. “Don’t apologize to me for the bullshit someone else said. That’s not on you.”

“If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. Not for them, I don’t give a shit what they have to say. I only care that I’ve used the same word as a weapon against you.”

“Rain, it’s sticks and stones. Words have no power to hurt you unless you let them.”

“Passion is passion. All-consuming, raw, and even toxic at times. It’s all in how you decide to harness it that establishes the line between love and hate.”

“Because he looks at you the exact same way you look at him,” he says simply, keeping his eyes on them. “With the same kind of passion.”

He thinks I’m angry with him when all I want to do is…hold him. Fucking forever.

“If the nightmares come—and make no mistake, they will—I’ll be right next to you. Not keeping you at arm’s length, letting you freeze on the floor.”

“Every night, for the rest of the time we’re here, this is how it’s going to be. Maybe because it makes sense or because I feel guilty, I don’t know. Whatever it is, the most important reason is I’m a selfish bastard, and when I want something, I take it.” My throat works at the knot residing in it before I let out a shaky exhale. “And what I want? More than anything? Is to finally have something to hold onto to make it through the night.”

At some point, he became a necessity, even when he was never meant to be anything more than an enemy.

“I didn’t need to be made strong. I was a fucking child. I just…” “Needed to be kept safe.”

This. So much this.

He’s seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. And stayed. Not like he has much of a choice. But he didn’t have to keep trying to make an effort with me.

“It fucking kills me, knowing you went through that, baby. With no one to fight for you, to stand up for you,” he tells me between kisses across my pecs. “And while I might be too late to keep the nine-year-old Rain safe, I’m here now. I’ve found you.”

“I’ve found you and I’m here, and I promise I will always be your safe place for as long as you need one.”

I trust him. With all of my black heart and damaged soul. And fuck, if that isn’t the hardest thing in the world for me to do anymore, I don’t know what is.

Fuck, I want him so bad. I’ll let him do whatever he wants to me. I don’t fucking care. I just want him to erase the painful memories, the touch of the wicked human who did those vile things to me.

Having him is like taking your first hit of weed or line of blow. You didn’t know what to expect from it, but fuck, the high sure does make you feel on top of the world.

I’m beginning to realize there’s no part of me he hasn’t taken for himself. Including what’s left of my heart.

I need his truths, all of them. Every single thing he is willing to share, I’ll eat it up and still beg for more. No matter how dark and fucked up it might be. The darkest parts of his soul, his past, are what make him, him.

“I don’t know if I’m sorry for hitting you. It was nice to see the golden boy can be tarnished.” I laugh, my mood lifting immediately as I push him away before rolling on top of him. “Only by you, baby. Only by you.”

Eventually, when it’s time, I can give him the darkest scraps of my soul, the fragments that never are able to see the light of day. The parts no one would love or understand, but I know he will find a way to see the good in them. That’s just who he is.

I don’t have the courage to show the world the “real” Ciaráin Grady instead of the person they think I am. But I do know, when I’m with River, I’m who I’m supposed to be.