“She was pregnant.”
I nod, my head dropping back against the wall.
“You asked her to abort your baby?”
I shake my head. “Not like that. I asked her what she wanted to do. Fuck, Cami, I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t ready to be a dad. I’d lost my mom; I was lost and hateful and vengeful. Kendall sure as shit wasn’t ready to be a mom either. I put the ball in her court and she took that as me tellin’ her I didn’t want the baby.”
“What happened?”
“Kane came outside to see what was going on. She got scared and ran. I told him what had happened and he beat the shit outta me for being so stupid. Broke three of my ribs and split open my eye socket. I spent the night in the emergency room and I never saw Kendall again.”
I’ve always hated sympathy. Despised the look of pity that crossed people’s faces. It’s always made me feel weak. But not with Camryn. There’s a tenderness to the way she calls me out. An affinity in the way she listens.
“Do you think…” She trails off, too scared to vocalize what I now already know.
“That my father called his sick-son-of-a-bitch right-hand and demanded he deal with my off the rails booty-call? Yeah, I’m thinking that’s exactly what happened. I just don’t know why he didn’t kill her straight away? Why keep her alive to have to raise her kid?”
“Knowledge is power, Rocco. He had something over you, whether you knew it or not. It made him feel like a King.”
“I’d kill him,” I vow, knowing it’s all in vain. “If I could bring him back to life, I’d kill him. I’d make him pay, make sure he felt everything.”
“The kids were the something that left you,” she surmises. “Not Kendall. The kids.”
She’s thinking about our conversation in the bathroom. The one that stripped us bare and solidified a connection we’re now sewn together by.
“I didn’t realize they were a plural. But yeah, I’ve been searchin’ for Kendall with the sole purpose of findin’ my kid.”
I clear my throat, happy that Camryn still hasn’t removed her hands from my knees. The warmth of her touch is grounding me. In a time when I thought all I needed was pain and violence, she became my beacon.
“I’m sad for Kendall,” I tell her honestly. “But I hate her too, Cami. I fucking despise her. I’m so fucking furious that she let them live that life…”
Unwanted thoughts flood my mind as they’ve done for years. Only now I know they’re not fears, they’re real. My kids weren’t thriving. They weren’t loved and cared for. They weren’t protected. They, like me, like Parker, have had to learn how to survive. When life should’ve been easy and carefree, they were fighting. They’ve struggled. They’ve had no one to lean on, save one another.
“I could’ve… I would’ve given them something better.”
“Maybe,” she counters.
“Maybe?” I feel wounded by her statement. Unsure how to let go of the hurt, I drop my knees, no longer wanting her touch.
“You were angry for a long while, Rocco. You were ready to kill. You were what Kane and Marcus wanted you to be. You may not have been the right place for them either.”
Fuck. Straight for the jugular. “Anyone ever tell you honesty isn’t always the best option.”
Crossing her legs, she sits in front of me. “Is that what you want? Lies to make you feel even worse. Maybe their mom failed them, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t love them the best she could. Who knows what happened to have her become tangled in Marcus’ web? All we know is, that in the end, it was bad enough that she sought to escape the best way she knew how.”
I swallow the bitter pill she all but shoved down my throat.
“They’re forever scarred for whatever that asshole put them through, for what they saw with Kendall. I can’t take that away. I don’t have the power to fix it, to fix them.”
I’m empty. The fight only minutes ago coursing through me having dissipated into nothing. Into numbness. I’m broken and tired.
“You don’t fix them,” she declares indignantly. “You make sure this next phase of their lives is a new world. One of love and acceptance. You show them there is no longer anything to fear.”
My eyes sting. My heart aches.
“You’re one hundred percent right though, you can’t take away their past. But scars of yesterday aren’t ugly scrapes on our souls that will forever mar us as imperfect. They’re survival wounds, Rocco, ones we’ve fought tooth and nail for. They’re perfect, no matter how unsightly they look. Your kids are strong. They’re survivors. Exactly like you and Parker.”
“How do you do it?” I ask.
“Do what?”
“Pull my guard down before I’ve realized. Make me show you my insides without my permission. I give you everything. I give you all of me... all before I’ve realized it’s happened.”
She moves to speak but I cut her off.
“Tell me it’s not just me. Tell me I give it to you too. Tell me I’m not the only one leaning here, beggin’ for somethin’ I didn’t even know I wanted.”
“You give it to me too,” she admits almost shyly. “Likely more. I share the deepest parts of myself daring you to look away. But you don’t, in fact, you move closer.”
At that moment I realize there’s something sacred about bearing yourself completely to another. Something jarring. You’re jumping off a cliff, hoping, praying someone will catch you before you hit the ground.
This is it. Me. In the flesh. Ready to run yet?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Camryn
I wake, mentally spent, my head still reeling from yesterday.
Rocco is a dad.
Rocco Shay.
Has twins.
My temples pound and I stand before I’m tempted to draw a cushion over my head and suffocate myself.
His apartment is quiet. The sterile sound of silence welcome after the depth of conversation we dug ourselves into last night. We took a hammer to Rocco’s emotions. Cracked open a box he’d kept sealed away with the power of a million padlocks.
Searching through his kitchen, I open cupboards, disappointed to find zero chocolate. Note to self, bring a stash to hide away next time. Save myself this disappointment over and over again.
Moving to the fridge, I glance through the greenery on the shelves, grimacing with the thought of eating whatever the fuck it all is. Settling on a carton of juice in the door, I pop the opening, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone before drinking straight from the cardboard.
“That’s fuckin’ disgusting.”
I freeze, orange juice still on my lips, carton balancing in the same spot.
Sleepy Rocco has an incredibly rough voice. One that creeps across your skin like whispered promises of things I shouldn’t want.
“In my defense, I was doing you a favor.” I turn, closing the juice carton. “Firstly, your kitchen is so clean, I felt wrong dirtying a glass. Second, surely this has too much sugar for you. I was ridding its poison from your life.”
Sleepy Rocco also has super hooded eyes that trail along my body in a way that also makes me think of things I shouldn’t want.
“Sleep well?” I change the subject, hoping like hell my thoughts aren’t dusted across my cheekbones in a blush I can’t hide.
“Not a wink.”
“Want coffee?”
He nods, moving into the kitchen in long, lazy strides. “You sit. I’ll make it. Coffee is too important to me to have you fuck it up.”
I roll my eyes, trying my hardest not to sniff him as I walk past him to see how sleepy Rocco smells.
“You?” he grunts out.
Moving into the living room, I sit, legs out along the cushions, my front pushed to the back to ensure I can still see him.
“Meh,” I answer non-committedly. “Your couch, as comfy as it is to sit on, sucks as a bed.”
“Could’a used Parker’s.”
“Eww.” I scrunch up my nose. “He and Cod
i have done unmentionable things in that bed.”
“Could’a just crashed in my bed with me.”
I bite my tongue, unsure of how to respond.
Sleeping in a bed with Rocco Shay. It doesn’t repulse me as much as it should. In fact, the thought alone is enough to kickstart something deep in my stomach that both excites and scares me.
“As long as you don’t snore,” he jokes, saving me from my own awkwardness.
“I absolutely do not snore. I don’t think,” I add as an afterthought. “Not that it matters,” I rush out. “I am not sleeping in your bed with you.”
His shoulders lift in dismissal. “Your loss. I’m cuddly as shit.”
“Cuddly as shit isn’t exactly appealing.”
A soft smirk pulls along his face as his long strides bring him closer to me, coffee in hand. And look, I’m woman enough to admit that Rocco Shay, shirtless and sleepy, bringing me coffee isn’t the worst way to spend my morning.
“Did you put sugar in this?” I eye him suspiciously.
Sitting on the coffee table across from me, he nods. “Sure.”
“Lies.” I inhale the rich aroma, eyes closing in wanting.
“Just fuckin’ drink it.”
Watching him over the rim of my mug, I drink him in as I sip the smooth liquid; the perfect mixture of bitterness and sweetness exploding along of tastebuds in the promise of a good fucking day.
A small moan falls from my lips. That first taste of morning coffee like taking my first breath.
Rocco’s eyes zero in on my lips, watching as I lick them over, savoring that first drop.
I watch him, watch my mouth, the silver of his irises deepening with every second that passes. Coffee, forgotten in my hand, plays second fiddle to the violent need staring at me from the imposing man in front of me.
Desire is a funny thing. That amplified yearning for another person that settles within your body. An overwhelming feeling that is built solely around attraction and anticipation. The belief in your mind building like a bonfire, burning through you with the promise of pleasure that person can bring you.
Not just any person. Him. Rocco.
Before I’ve realized he’s moved, he extracts my coffee from my grasp, placing it on the coffee table he was seconds ago sitting atop of.
Sitting in front of me, he offers me the power of position. I’m above him, looking down on him in expectation.
“I see the way you look at me, Cami,” he tells me quietly. “The lazy want in your pretty blue eyes. The color that hits the top of your cheekbones when you’re thinking about all the things you want me to do to you. You want me to fuck you,” he states, arms stretching out behind him, palms pressing into the soft carpet of his living room.
I don’t dispute his words. As much as I know I should. I will myself to laugh in his face, to tell him he’s delusional. But the truth is, he’s right. Denying his statement would only make me look like a fool. I know I should feel shame. That I should be disgraced and disgusted at myself for letting myself want him. But I can’t. Because rejecting what I truly feel seems hopeless at this point.
I seek him out more than any other person in my life. I feel stronger around him than I ever have before. Rocco Shay has sparked something inside of me, something I long thought dead. Attempting to deny that would be like extinguishing my own flame. And I’m selfish enough to admit I don’t want to do that.
“Thing is, Cami,” he sighs. “I’m not interested.”
Embarrassment fists itself around my heart. I attempt to swallow it down, but find myself choking on it instead. I clear my throat, unsure of what to say or how to act. I shift in my seat, wanting nothing more than to flee his space. Would he let me leave with my dignity? Would he let me walk from his home and pretend he didn’t just cut me with a heavily serrated knife of disregard?
He watches my humiliation in an unaffected silence.
“I need more,” he finally adds. The words are barely audible, so quietly spoken I could scarcely hear them over the heavy drum of my heart.
“More?” I ask stupidly.
“More,” he concurs.
I blink, the fist around my heart easing its grip, letting it run away with the thundering rhythm of uncertainty.
“Never imagined I’d want someone to call my own,” he confesses. “Have someone that fed my obsession and was borderline psychotic in their need to possess my heart in the same way. Truth be told, I questioned the existence of an actual heart inside my body. Shocks me to admit it’s there, and it’s just as crazy as the rest of me.”
Silence settles between us.
“For you,” he murmurs. “It’s fucking head over ass crazy for you.”
“Me?” I ask, dumbfounded.
That makes him smirk. “Yeah, beauty.” He shifts closer. “Do I want to fuck you? More than anything. I want to possess every inch of your beautiful body, burying my cock so deep inside, there isn’t a single part of your body I haven’t claimed. I want to own you the way you unknowingly own me.”
I stare, eyes wide without blinking. He shifts closer once again until he’s kneeling between my legs.
“Question is, what do you want? Because if it’s just a quick hard fuck when you feel in the mood, my answer is no.”
He reaches up, swiping his thumb against the collection of freckles that decorate the bridge of my nose and cheeks.
“I can’t seem to read you, Rein. Do me a solid and tell me what you feel?” he asks, the palm of his hand wrapped tightly around my forearm, keeping me close.
“About what?”
His eyes bore into mine; pools of gray that never seem to end. Eyes that I forever want to become lost in.
“About me,” he murmurs.
My throat tightens, the intensity in his gaze cutting off my ability to breathe.
“My heart and my brain are at war,” I whisper. “I’m broken.”
“You’re perfect,” he combats quietly, the words nothing less than vehement.
“And you’re broken,” I continue.
“We’re both broken, but together all our broken pieces, they make a beautiful fucking whole, Cami.”
I bite my lip to stop the wobble in my chin, my eyes squeezing shut as I nod quickly.
“My heart is screaming for you,” I confess. “But my mind won’t let me forget all the things you’ve done. The damage you tried to inflict. Every time I think I’ve quelled the power in its voice, it rears its ugly head, making me believe I should hate you still.”
He watches me in understanding.
“Tell me you regret it. Tell me it was all a mistake, Rocco. Make me believe you,” I beg, pulling my arm free of his grasp to cup his face.
His nostrils flare, panic painted openly across his features. “I can’t,” he insists. “I can’t do that.”
The wet line of my lashes brush my sockets as my tears fall in heartache.
“I can tell you I’m sorry that I had so much hate inside me, I welcomed it spreadin’ like a cancer. I can tell you I’m sorry that so many people were hurt by my stupidity. I can tell you that losing Mira sliced away a piece of my heart that I ain’t ever getting back. I can tell you I’m sorry,” he declares. “But regret it… no. I can’t do that.”
My eyebrows, pulled together in confusion ease with the touch of his thumb brushing down my forehead.
My hands fall away from his face and I see the hurt that causes him.
“I don’t regret Marcus dying,” he argues, more to himself than to me. “I don’t regret Codi and Parker findin’ love in the hopelessness of the situation I created.”
He watches me quietly for a beat, shifting closer so that when he breathes in, his chest touches mine. “I don’t regret finding the best friend I’ve ever had,” he admits, his words a quiet promise. “I don’t regret loving her harder than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone in my whole entire life.”
He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “Which is saying a lot considering I w
as ready to kill for my mom. There’s no limit to what I’d do to protect you, beauty. No fucking limit. It scares the shit outta me.”
My nose stings and my eyes ache as I attempt to hold back my tears.
“How can I regret the reasoning behind finding myself in someone else? Something I never thought would happen to me. Tell me, beauty, how the fuck do I regret that?”
I lean forward, wanting to feel his lips against mine. Wanting my lips to determine if I’ve forgiven him because I no longer trust how I feel.
He grabs my jaw though, stopping me just before our lips connect. “Are we doin’ this? Because I ain’t interested in just a taste.”
I hesitate. “You love me?” I test, both shocked and elated and confused that someone with a heart as dark as Rocco’s could find itself able beat for another. More, that my cold, splintered heart could do the same.
He laughs. “Baby, love ain’t a strong enough word for what I feel for you. I love Parker. I fucking bleed for you. My heart only started beatin’ again when you saved it from givin’ out.”
Warm, fresh tears fall from my eyes, dropping along my cheeks in a river of emotions I don’t know how to articulate.
Barely a breath from my eager lips and he whispers, “And I think you feel the same for me, too. I just need to know if your love for me is loud enough to drown out those doubts that are keeping you just outta my reach.”
I answer him with a kiss. A push of my salty lips against his. He kisses me back without hesitation. His large palm fisting into my hair to deepen our touch.
There’s a desperation in the way his mouth moves over mine. In the way his tongue swipes into my mouth, dragging against mine in thick, wet caresses.
It’s not a pretty kiss. No soft moans of pleasure or teasing flicks of a tongue. It’s messy and chaotic and altogether frantic. Longing exploding in our faces in our need to be as close as possible.
Ass sliding to the edge of the couch, my thighs press against his obliques. I swallow his rough groan, drinking it down like it’s only ever been mine. Like no one else has ever heard the ragged sound of need breaking from his eager lips.
Reining Devotion: A Chaotic Rein novel Page 18
