Praying for Rain (Praying for Rain Trilogy, #1)(13)

“That’s my dad’s, but …” Her face goes white as her eyes dart left and right, looking for a lie. “He’s deaf. And he hangs out in his man cave upstairs all day, so he won’t hear me knocking.”

“Or see you knocking,” I add.

“Right.” Rain shrugs dramatically.

“Where’s your mom?” I take the hose from her and drink while I wait for her to make up another bullshit story.

“She’s at work.”

I take a breath between gulps. “Nobody’s at work.”

“No, for real!” The pitch of her voice shoots up along with her eyebrows. “She’s an ER nurse. The hospital is still open.”

I give her a doubtful glare. “How does she get there?”

“Motorcycle.”

“What kind of motorcycle?”

Rain’s face reddens. “I don’t know! A black one!”

I laugh and shut off the water. There are a dozen smart-ass responses on the tip of my tongue, but I decide to keep my mouth shut. If this girl doesn’t want me to know that she lives alone—which is pretty fucking obvious from her bullshit responses—then that’s what I’m gonna let her think.

Besides, I can’t say that I blame her. I’m sure Invite a strange man into your house after he pulls a gun on you is in the top ten list of shit single girls are taught not to do.

Invite a strange man into your house after he pulls a gun on you twice is probably in the top five.

Rain turns her flustered head toward the Chevy. “You can siphon the gas out of my dad’s truck since the roads are too trashed to drive it anyway. I guess just use the”—her eyes dart back to me as I flick open my new pocketknife and slice off about five feet of hose—“hose.”

“Thanks.” I smirk. Walking over to the rust bucket, I cut the length of hose in my hand into two pieces—a long one and a short one. Then, I pop open the gas cap and stick both inside the opening. “Hold these, okay?”

Rain hops over like her ass is on fire. I find it interesting that she’s completely incapable of following directions unless I’m asking her for help.

She probably would have been a nurse, like her mom, I think. If her mom even is a nurse.

I pull off my holster, making sure not to graze my shoulder wound with it, and set it on the ground. I see the way Rain is eyeing it, so I push it further away with my foot. “Uh-uh-uh.”

“That’s my gun.” Rain pretends to pout as I take off my Hawaiian shirt and stuff it into the openings around the hoses.

I move her hands so that she’s holding the shirt and the hoses in place.

“Can’t you just, like, stick a tube in there and suck on it?” Rain asks as I walk my bike closer to the truck.

“Sure, if I wanted to get a mouthful of gasoline.”

Rain rolls her eyes, and the expression makes her seem so young. That giant Twenty One Pilots hoodie doesn’t help.

“How old are you?” I ask, tilting my bike sideways so that the gas tank will be lower than the truck’s.

“Nineteen.”

Bullshit.

“How old are you?” she asks as I stick the end of the long hose into my gas tank.

“Twenty-two.”

Keeping my bike tilted at just the right angle, I lean over to where Rain is holding everything in place and blow into the short tube. She gasps a moment later when we hear the sound of liquid splashing against the bottom of my gas tank.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Rain’s eyes are wide, her voice is breathy, and her mouth has fallen open in a little O.

I begin to think of a few other ways I could put that look on her face when I remember that she asked me a question. “YouTube.”

“Oh, right.” She laughs. “The internet’s been down for a week, and I already forgot about YouTube.”

An awkward silence stretches between us as we’re forced to stand there, each holding our own end of the hose.

Rain breaks it and manages to make things even more awkward. “I can’t believe we only have three days left.”

“Speak for yourself,” I snap.

“Oh, right.” Rain furrows her brow, considering my statement. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

I shrug. “You’re going to anyway.”

“If whatever’s coming is as bad as everyone thinks it is, then why are you trying so hard to survive it? I mean, what if you end up being the last person on Earth?”

“Then, I’d be king of the fucking world,” I deadpan. The tank is almost full, so I stand the bike upright to stop the flow.

Rain lets out a sad laugh as I pull out the hose and screw the gas cap back on. “Yeah, you’d be king of the whole busted, ruined planet.”

I shrug and push the kickstand back out. I never talk about my shit, but there’s something about the way this girl is hanging on my every word that makes them just start falling out of my mouth. “The way I see it, if I can survive the fucking apocalypse, then it makes everything I’ve been through mean something, you know? Like, instead of breaking me … they made me unbreakable.”

Rain’s big, sad eyes begin to glisten, making me wish I’d kept my fucking mouth shut. I don’t want her pity. I want her compliance. I want her resources. And, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind bending her over the hood of this truck right now either.