Chapter 2
Chapter Two: Rain Like Memory
The trees blurred past as the Ford Explorer hummed steadily down the wet road, the windshield wipers keeping rhythm like a metronome for the heartbeats in between their laughter.
“So wait,” Sinndy said, leaning slightly toward him, eyes wide with disbelief, “you really got chased by a rooster when you were ten?”
“Look, I didn’t know chickens could hold grudges,” Derrick said, grinning. “That thing followed me for a week. Like it had a hit out on me.”
She laughed again—one of those easy, bubbling laughs that made him feel like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world. It had been like that for miles now—conversation flowing effortlessly, the car filled with that rare kind of warmth that didn’t need music to fill the silence.
They had talked about everything and nothing. Where she grew up. How much he missed Saturday mornings with his brothers. Her love of drawing portraits on napkins. His obsession with those overpriced gas station donuts that always disappointed him.
But names? Somehow that hadn't come up.
“So,” she said finally, shifting slightly in her seat and glancing down at the ring on his index finger, “what do I call my rescuer-slash-rooster survivor?”
He chuckled. “Derrick.”
She held out her hand. “Sinndy. Two n’s. And yes, people always ask.”
He shook it. “Nice to officially meet you, Sinndy with two n’s.”
She looked at his hand again, eyes lingering just a moment longer. “Your wife’s a lucky woman.”
Derrick smiled, heart catching. “No, I’m the lucky one. If you knew my wife, you’d agree.”
Sinndy tilted her head thoughtfully. “Then I guess both of you are lucky.”
The sky began to darken as they approached Athens, the soft drizzle thickening into something heavier, louder. Rain pounded against the roof, turning puddles into mirrors and streets into slow rivers. The world outside looked like it had been dunked in a bucket and forgotten.
Derrick squinted through the windshield. “Alright… where should I drop you?”
She pulled out her phone, thumb tapping quickly. “I’m meeting someone. First time here, though. He said downtown—near the square.”
She dialed. Nothing.
Tried again. Straight to voicemail.
She sighed, her voice quieter now. “I don’t know where he is. He said he’d meet me, but…”
Derrick frowned. “Alright. I’ll find a spot with some cover. Can’t leave you out here like this.”
He pulled into a small shopping plaza. Everything around them looked closed, lights off, like the town had ducked under a blanket. The overhang near a shuttered café would at least keep her dry.
“You sure you’ll be okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said with a forced smile. “I’ll figure something out.”
She stepped out into the storm. The rain wasted no time. Within seconds, her hair clung to her face, shirt soaked through, the little backpack hanging heavy on her shoulder.
She moved toward the building, not running—just letting the rain claim her like it had been waiting all day.
Derrick sat there for a moment, staring ahead.
Then he pulled away.
But as he passed the next light, something gnawed at his chest.
Where is she going to sleep tonight? She was already cold—what if she gets sick? What if something worse happens? What if…
His hands clenched the steering wheel.
What if I turn on the TV tomorrow and hear a girl was found in this very town?
What if I just drove away from something I could’ve stopped?
He cursed under his breath, turned the car around sharply, the wipers slicing through guilt.
Lord, let her still be there.
When he pulled up again, Sinndy was still under the overhang, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She looked like a wet chicken—feathers soaked, eyes wide, too proud to cry, too tired to hide.
He hooted.
She didn’t even flinch.
He rolled the window down. “Sinndy!”
She finally turned. Saw the car. No reaction at first—then slowly, wearily, she stepped toward him. No running. No small talk.
She climbed in, shivering.
“Where are we going?” she asked softly.
“My house,” Derrick said.
She looked at him, cautious. “What about your wife?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Don’t worry. My wife’s twice as kind as I am. She’ll understand.”
Sinndy nodded once and leaned back against the seat, her braid dripping onto the towel he’d handed her.
Outside, the storm kept falling—less like weather, more like a mood. The kind that changes everything.
To be continued...
