Chapter 60 The Rain

Chapter 60 The Rain
Dalton POV

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The rain had soaked me through before I even reached the cabin, but I didn’t care. Each step toward the door was weighted with anticipation, fear, and the stubborn certainty that I couldn’t leave without saying what I needed to. My jacket clung to my back, soaked, but it felt like armor compared to the storm inside me.

Sloane opened the door just a crack, water dripping from her hair and the edge of her white t-shirt. Her expression was unreadable, part frustration, part exhaustion, part defiance, and it hit me like a punch to the chest. She had every right to look at me like this. I’d left, I’d failed, I’d hurt her, and now I was standing here, soaked and desperate, trying to make it right.

“I’ll give you five minutes,” she said, voice calm but firm, barely audible over the pounding rain.  “Five minutes to explain yourself. After that… you’re done. You leave. Got it?”

I nodded immediately, throat tight. “Okay. Five minutes. I… I’ll try.”

Her eyes flicked toward the storm behind me, then back to mine. “Try?” she asked, voice sharper now. “Don’t try. Just… talk. From the beginning if you have to. Don’t stop. Don’t hedge. Don’t stall. I want to hear the truth.”

I inhaled, drawing in the cold, wet air, and tried to string words together. “Sloane… I… I don’t know how to start. I should have… I should have told you everything sooner. I should have… I should have fixed it before it got this far.”

She cut me off with a short laugh, half disbelief, half anger. “You should have what, Dalton? You should have done what? Wait for me to leave? Pretend like I didn’t exist? Pretend like it didn’t matter that I could walk away at any moment?”

I swallowed, heart hammering in my chest. “No… I cared! I care! I care more than anything I’ve ever—” My words trailed off, useless, swallowed by the tension crackling between us. My hands balled into fists, and I ran a shaking hand over my face. “I’ve been trying to figure out the right words, the right time, and every time I thought I had it… I was too late.”

Her eyes flashed, fierce and stormy, almost mirroring the sky outside. “Too late? Dalton… it’s not just about timing. You think a few missed chances erase everything that’s gone wrong? You think just showing up now fixes any of it?”

I shook my head, frustration coiling tight in my chest. “No. I’m not pretending it fixes it. I’m not pretending anything. I just… I can’t leave without telling you how I feel. I can’t go away again without being honest, without… without you knowing that everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been, it’s always been for you.”

Her lips pressed together, jaw tight. “Five minutes,” she reminded me. “And that’s all. After that… you leave.”

I exhaled, nodding, feeling both relief and the crushing weight of what I still had to say. Five minutes. Five minutes to explain a lifetime of mistakes, five minutes to tell her she was the only one I could ever imagine with, five minutes to somehow make her understand why I’d acted the way I did.

And the rain kept falling, drumming against the cabin, as if urging me on.

Those five minutes flew by faster than any moment in my entire life. I babbled about like a child and I still couldn’t find the words. I was losing her by the second, and my heart ached.

“That’s five minutes. You need to leave, Dalton,” she said sharply, stepping back and gesturing toward the door. Her drenched hair clung to her face, and I could see the sharp lines of frustration and hurt cutting across her features. “I don’t care what you think you need to say, you’re done here.”

I shook my head, refusing to step away. “I’m not leaving,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Not until I say what I need to say. Not until you hear me out. You don’t get to shut me out this time.”

Her eyes narrowed, a flash of anger sparking in them. “You think forcing me to listen is going to fix anything? You think staying here is going to change what’s happened?”

“It’s not about changing the past,” I said, stepping closer, trying to close the space between us without crowding her. “It’s about the truth. You deserve that much, Sloane. I can’t just… walk away again.”

Her lips pressed together, and she let out a frustrated sigh. “You don’t get it, do you?” she snapped. “I’m not asking for the truth. I’m asking for space. For me to breathe. For me to stop feeling like my life is in your hands!”

I ran a hand over my face, exhaling sharply. “I get it. I really do. But running away isn’t going to solve this. Not for either of us. I can’t leave. Not now. Not when you’re right there, and I have this chance to finally say what I’ve been holding in for too long.”

Her hand twitched toward the door, and my stomach dropped. “Then fine,” she said, voice tight, and I could see the resolve in her posture. “If you won’t leave… I will.”

Before I could respond, she turned sharply and bolted toward the back door. My heart lurched in my chest, and I ran after her instinctively.

“Sloane!” I yelled, my voice almost swallowed by the pounding rain outside. “Wait! Don’t!”

But she didn’t stop. She flung the door open, and the storm hit her immediately. Sheets of rain plastered her white t-shirt to her skin, clinging tightly, black bra faintly visible beneath it. For a split second, my body betrayed me, tension knotting in a way I had no time for, but I forced myself to focus. She wasn’t a distraction. She was Sloane, running away from me, running from what we hadn’t fixed.

I lunged forward, boots sliding in the mud, trying to match her pace. “Sloane! Stop!” I shouted again, my voice strained, raw. “This isn’t the way! Come back!”

She kept going, moving into the storm without a glance back. The wind whipped her hair into her face, rain blurring the world around us, but she didn’t falter. She was furious, determined, and I could see the hurt in every step she took.

“Dalton!” she yelled over the roar of the storm, voice sharp, almost cutting through the rain. “You can’t fix this! You can’t! Just leave me alone!”

The words tore through the storm, sharp and final.

I froze mid-step, rain blinding, chest burning, watching her turn away from me, away from everything I hadn’t said yet.

And in that moment, standing knee-deep in mud and regret, I realized I was about to lose her without ever telling her the truth.