The rain doesn't let up that night. It falls in a constant, steady rhythm, a percussive beat that seems to seep into the very bones of the inn. By the time I've helped May through her nightly routine and gotten her tucked into bed, the storm is still raging, a relentless, grey curtain that shows no sign of abating.
Lucas is already in the room when I return from going back downstairs for a drink, sitting in a chair by the window, watching the rain. He has a book in his lap, but he's not reading. He's just staring out into the darkness, his expression pensive.
May is already deep asleep in the bed.
He looks up as I enter, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. "Still coming down." He says, his voice a low murmur. "Looks like we're stuck here for another day."
"Seems so." I say, walking over to the small table by the door and setting down the glass of water I'd brought in case May wakes up in the night. "You're not asleep."
