Mort Rainey Novels & Stories

By the time Kenneth Ford finally showed up, I was already soaked through. He wasn't alone. There was a girl under his umbrella, and at well over six feet tall, Kenneth had enough height to shield her almost completely from the rain. He'd tilted the umbrella so far toward her that one side of his shirt was getting drenched, but he didn't seem to care. He just smiled and let her stay tucked safely beside him. Then he saw me, and the smile on his face disappeared. "Sorry, I'm late," he muttered. The girl beside him immediately turned to me. "Hannah, it's my fault. I've gotten so used to sharing Kenneth's umbrella that I asked him to walk me home. And honestly, being tucked up against him m

My wife Naomi Holden's phone was always on silent mode. Whenever I needed to reach her, the call never went through. My only option was to ask everyone around us, but when every single person gave a different answer, I already knew the truth. She was with him again, the frail man she had never been able to let go of. On our seventh anniversary, we had plans to meet at our usual spot for dinner. Three hours passed, and she still had not shown up. I stood on the street, burning with fever, dialing one number after another. My father picked up, his voice warm and unhurried. "Naomi just came by for dinner. Don't worry, I've got my eye on her for you." A friend working at her company lau