“Hey there, fella.” The old homeless man stands in front of me. His tattered overcoat seems to be keeping him fairly dry, though water beads in his gray hair and runs down his ruddy face.
“Take this.” He hands me what used to be an umbrella, the spines broken and hanging higgledy-piggledy. It wouldn’t protect against a mist, much less this. But it’s his, and he’s offering.
I blink up at him, shocked and feeling like shit, but find my voice. “That’s okay, man. Can’t get much wetter.”
He lets out a raspy laugh, tucking the umbrella back into the basket-cart at his side. “Ain’t that the truth.” He nods toward the night sky. “Bad weather will blow past. Always does.”
I want to laugh until I cry, but I nod and reach into my pocket for my wallet. He sees me and holds up a hand. “No need for that. No need at all. I’m getting on home now.”
I’ve seen him around and know this is a lie. But pride is a powerful thing, and so I push my wallet back. “Have a good evening, mister.”
He leaves me to silence and the sound of the rain pattering against the pavement. And I sit back, my head thumping against my front door and close my eyes.
Pride. I thought I was so fucking humble, above it all. But my pride kept me from going after Fi when I first saw her. It’s kept me from demanding the things I want in life until it was easy. And it had me lashing out when I should have listened.
Fucking pride.
“Ethan?”
My eyes spring open. Fi stands a few feet away, holding a grocery bag in her hands. Illuminated by the gas lantern hanging over our door, her little frame is dwarfed by her big yellow raincoat. I scramble to my feet, my sneakers squeaking on the pavers.
“Fi.” I take a step forward, my chest heaving. “Cherry, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I know.”
“All that stupid shit I said, I was just—”
She takes a step too. “You don’t have to explain. Everyone deserves to howl at the moon at some point. And you’ve had a shitty day. A shitty month, really.”
We’ve both had a shitty time of it, yet she wasn’t the one who went into Hulk-Smash mode. “I shouldn’t have trashed the room. I scared you.”
She frowns, and rainwater trickles down her cheeks like tears. “What scares me more is that you believe you need to hide your emotions.”
My throat works on a noisy swallow, and I have to blink away the rain drops that blind me.
“What’s really bothering you?” she asks when I don’t speak.
“I liked it,” I confess in a tight voice, my eyes finding hers. “Allowing myself to let go.” It had relieved a pressure I’d felt building for what seems like forever.
She gives me a small smile. “It’s okay to get angry or upset, you know. If all this has taught me anything, it’s that we can’t plan life. It just happens. If you hold on too tight, you might break. And I don’t ever want to see you broken, Ethan.”
I don’t have it in me to explain the stark, gray terror I felt when I realized she was gone. If losing my temper meant losing her, I’d hold onto it as tight as I could. Because without her, I’d be broken anyway. “Being with you. Loving you—You make me feel everything.”
Another step and she’s within touching distance. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“No. I was numb before you. I want to feel. I just… I don’t want to scare you. I got angry, and you left. I thought….” My breath hitches. “You left.”
Green eyes stare up at me through clumped, wet lashes. “I needed air. You needed to cool down.”
“You didn’t let me finish back there. If you leave, I’ll follow. I’ll always follow.”
“I know that. In fact, I’m counting on it. But I’m done running. You’re stuck with me, Big Guy.” She raises her hand a little, showing me the bag she’s holding. “I just thought I’d get you some gumbo. It’s cold and raining, and you love it—”