Reining Devotion: A Chaotic Rein novel

by Jenner, Haley

  We’ve been boxing for a good few hours, at Jesse’s request. I’m not complaining, I’m spending quality time with my boy.

  Fighting strips away your walls. It doesn’t just open you up to physical harm, it cracks you wide emotionally, everything rushing out through the fire of your fists.

  I’ve learned more about my son in the last few hours than I ever would have sitting down for a deep and meaningful conversation. I’ve discovered that as much as he looks like Parker on the outside, he’s as torn up about life as I am on the inside.

  It wasn’t hard to discover his reason. To work out where his want to fight stems from. Where I fight for freedom, his aim is centered around love. He fights with an aim to learn to protect himself, and more importantly, his sister. According to Jesse, the blame of their shitty start to life rests solely on his shoulders. It doesn’t take a genius to work out he wished he’d done more to protect her. He didn’t have to say the words, it was bleeding out of his eyes as he powered through punches that almost broke his body.

  “Bathroom,” Jesse grunts out through labored breaths.

  Hand tapping his back, I move to grab his shoulder in affection, squeezing it once before letting go.

  “You two look like your connecting,” Parker reflects, watching his nephew’s retreat.

  I wish he was right. Truth be told, today an exception, the kid is unwavering in his withdrawal. He’s afraid to get too close, predicting this attempt at a happy family is going to blow up in our faces.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “He’s cagey. It’s like tryin’ to connect with a ‘me’ that just looks like ‘you’.”

  A peel of laughter rolls from my brother’s mouth.

  “So what you’re tryn’a say is that he’s superiorly handsome?”

  I jab him in the ribs bare-fisted.

  He grunts. “Fuck, dude.” Rushing forward, he twists an arm around my neck, attempting to pull me down.

  “I’ve gotta head out,” Jesse interrupts our play fight and we stand up straight, watching him curiously.

  “Where you goin’?”

  He smirks. “Bit late to start the dad thing, yeah?”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “Maybe,” Parker answers for me. “But when you’re only sixteen and stayin’ as a guest in someone’s house, you pay ‘em some common courtesy.”

  Jesse’s eyes flit between the two of us. “Well, which is it? Houseguest or family?”

  Touché, kid. Tou-fucking-ché.

  “Just tryin’ to look out for you.”

  He refrains from rolling his eyes. “Done okay thus far on my lonesome.”

  I’m caught between my want to tell him that things have changed. That he needs to understand he now has a parent. One who gives a shit. But I’m petrified of pushing him away. Of coming on too strong, too fast and them disappearing into the wind again.

  “You need any cash?”

  He shakes his head.

  “I’ll get you a spare key,” I sigh. “Just in case I’m out when you get back.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  I move to walk past him, stopping. “I’m workin’ on givin’ you guys space to settle in, but any chance you could make sure you’re home at a decent hour. Save me thinkin’ you’ve run off?”

  A soft bark of laughter is my answer. “Sure thing, Rocco.”

  * * *

  Sitting on the couch, whiskey in hand, I frown at Parker. He’s staring at me, thinking too hard to make me comfortable.

  “I think you should give the twins tighter boundaries. They can’t just disappear without tellin’ you where they’re goin’.”

  I shoot my drink, spinning the empty glass in my hand.

  “You would know,” I answer. “With all the parenting practice you’ve had.”

  “Don’t be a dick,” he bites. “They’re fuckin’ kids, Roc. They need to know there are rules.”

  I sigh. “Park. They’ve been in my house for a week. To them, I’m still a stranger. I’m treadin’ carefully.”

  His head shakes. “There’s treadin’ carefully and being neglectful.”

  “The fuck?”

  Hands lifting in surrender, he apologizes. “That came out wrong. What I’m sayin’ is, they don’t wanna go back to the street any more than you want them to. Don’t let ‘em walk all over you for fear you’ll lose them. Being a parent also means layin’ ground rules, Roc. Don’t let them dictate how shit is gonna be in an attempt to connect with ‘em. Show ‘em you actually give a shit.”

  I stand, moving back toward the bottle of whiskey, dropping my glass down, thinking better of having another drink.

  “How are you so much better than me at this?”

  Tipping the remainder of his drink down his throat, he stands, placing his empty glass next to mine.

  “I learned from the best.”

  If I look confused, it’s because I am.

  “You, Roc. You were hard as fuck on me growin’ up. It showed you cared. As much as I bitched and whined, I secretly fuckin’ loved havin’ someone lookin’ out for me.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. But I grab him, pulling him into an embrace I didn’t know I needed.

  “Aww. Cute. Can I join in?” Blake’s arms wrap around us both without permission, her cheeks pressed against my shoulder.

  Pulling back, her eyes fall across the loft. “Where’s Jesse?”

  “Said he had somethin’ to do.”

  Bottom lip tipped out, she hmphs. “Nice of him to tell me he was leaving.”

  “What’ve you been doin’?” Parker asks her.

  “Dude. I’ve been street bound for months. I’ve been giving Rocco’s Netflix and Amazon Prime accounts a total workout, catching up on all my shows.”

  He frowns at me. “Since when do you have Netflix and Amazon Prime?”

  My shoulders lift in dismissal. “Since Blake told me she had shows to catch up on.”

  She blinks at me widely. “You didn’t have it before?”

  “Had no need.”

  “So you got it for me?”

  “It’s just some TV subscriptions.”

  She laughs it off uncomfortably. Embarrassed that I would reject something that she obviously deems important as nothing.

  Fuck.

  “I was happy to do it. It’s important you get to be a kid, that you can binge-watch trashy TV and talk my ear off about it, even though I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

  Her smile starts off small. The sides of her mouth tipping upward before moving into a fully formed grin; lips stretched wide, teeth on show, dimples present. “Ha. I knew it.” She laughs. “You secretly love my recaps.”

  “I don’t,” I assure her.

  “You do, don’t worry, Uncle Park and I won’t hold it against you.”

  Uncle Park, but I’m still Rocco. Like that doesn’t hurt like a serrated knife to the throat.

  “Just like hearin’ you talk.”

  Every delicate feature on her face softens, the chip on her shoulder she gets around with disappearing like a puff of smoke.

  “Any idea where your brother has gone?”

  Moving into the kitchen, she opens the fridge, grabbing a carrot out to bite it. We watch her chew, her focus never leaving the orange vegetable.

  “I know where he is.” She finishes her mouthful. “I followed him one day. You’ll find he does this a few times a week.”

  “So?” Parker prompts.

  “Oh.” She giggles. “I’m not going to tell you. I’d have to kill you. Twin code and all.”

  She winks as she walks past us, that chip having found her once again.

  “Dinner is at six tonight,” I yell to her retreating back.

  She lifts her thumb up over her head.

  “Why is it so annoying that your kids are so much like us?”

  Talk about nature over nurture. Jesse and Blake have less than nothing to do with us growing up. They were shaped well b
efore they’d heard our names, but here they are, so much like Parker and I, you’d think someone had cloned us into smaller versions.

  “How are you doin’ with all this?” I ask my brother. “First time we’ve had a chance to chat since the bombshell of the twins was dropped.”

  Grabbing his shirt from his duffle, he slides it over his head. “I’m confused as to why you never told me Kendall was pregnant, that you thought you had a kid.”

  I should apologize, but I know my brother, he doesn’t expect it.

  “I could’ve helped you.”

  “Kendall told me she was gettin’ rid of the kid. Could’a been a wild fuckin’ goose chase, doll face. Why get your hopes up that we had family if it weren’t true. You’d lost enough, I didn’t want that hope in your eyes to cut me open whenever we came up empty-handed.”

  “What about you though?” he argues. “What about your hope? You’ve lost just as much, if not more than I have, Rocco. I’m sick and tired of you balancing the burden of our lives by yourself. I ain’t a kid. Let me fuckin’ help you. Show me you fuckin’ trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” I combat defensively.

  “Do you? Really? Look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t keepin’ anything else from me.”

  Lips pursed, I can’t bring myself to look at him.

  “I fuckin’ knew it. Tell me.”

  Hand reaching up, I scratch at the back of my neck in discomfort.

  “You’re a real prick.” He slings his duffle over his shoulder. “You know that right? God forbid anyone do anything without your permission, but you’re a law unto your own, ain’t that right, brother?”

  Showing me his back, he moves toward my door, shoulders clenched in disappointment, the stench of bad blood widening the gap between us.

  “I’m workin’ with Dominic,” I call out. “To find Sarah.”

  Feet paused, he doesn’t turn.

  “I found her,” I confess to his back. “Well, Rein found her. He sent me to bring her home.”

  He turns slowly. “And?”

  “Bitch tasered me and shot Tivoli in the leg.”

  “Who else knows?”

  “Camryn.”

  “Are you fuckin’ her?” he accuses.

  “It ain’t like that.”

  Quiet hangs between us. “Where is she now?”

  I swallow. “Contacts of Rein have spotted her in town.”

  “What the fuck is she doing?”

  “We don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “But it’s set Dominic on edge. He thinks she’s planning something.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he spits. “You don’t think Codi and I should’ve been made aware of this. Fuck, Rocco. My wife could be in danger and you’re keepin’ secrets.”

  “She has people watchin’ her,” I vow.

  He has to know that Dominic would never leave Codi unprotected. That I would never leave him unprotected.

  Arms outstretched, he looks at me with disgust. “I don’t give a fuckin’ shit about people. I keep her safe. Me. Her fucking husband. Her security ain’t your responsibility.”

  With that he slams the door, exiting the loft with the fight of a man whose family is at risk.

  Fuck.

  It’s not lost on me that we’re back here again. Me forcing my brother into a situation he wants no part in. One that threatens the lives of those he holds most dear.

  “That was awkward.”

  I startle at Blake’s voice, watching her closely to determine how much she actually heard.

  She’s good though. Not just a closed book. She’s one that’s padlocked shut and twisted up in chains, not letting a single thought escape from her eyes.

  “You know, Jesse and I lived with one unhinged psycho for too long. One hellbent on making everyone pay for his stupid mistakes over and over again.”

  I take the insult in her words without judgment.

  “We won’t do it again,” she declares.

  “I’m tryn’a fix it all,” I tell her. “I’m tryn’a make sure Marcus’ stain or Sarah’s vendetta can’t hurt the people I love. They took my mom, which lost me my dad. Then they stole my aunt.”

  The padlock pops open on her consent, sympathy clouding her eyes.

  “I won’t let them touch you or Jesse any longer. I won’t let her close to Camryn, Codi, or Parker. I’m fucking petrified of the damage she can inflict. I’m tryn’a stop it before it blows up in our faces.”

  “Why can’t you just leave it?” she questions, trying to understand.

  “You told me you knew Sarah. You knew Marcus. Do you think she’ll stop? Do you think she’ll rest until the threat of any of us is extinct from her life?”

  She doesn’t even pause to consider my question. “No.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Camryn

  “You’re restless,” I tell him. Watching his leg bounce up and down in agitation.

  He stops the incessant movement, pausing to look at me. “I haven’t fought in months.”

  I can’t decide if he seems relieved or pained by the thought.

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Yes,” he answers immediately. “No,” he corrects. “Fuck. I don’t know.”

  I sit next to him on the bed, my hand reaching for his.

  “I miss the outlet.” His thumb traces my hand. “When I’m stuck. When I’m fucking confused. When I’m lost,” he finishes on a whisper.

  “Could you find somewhere to do it safely?”

  Twisting his neck, he looks at me, a smile growing on his face. “Fuck, you’re cute.” His arm hooks over my shoulder, bringing me into his body.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  Lips to my temple, he talks against my skin, the burr of his voice kissing me. “I don’t do it for the fight, Cami. I do it searchin’ for pain. Tempting fate, gambling on my life.”

  “Oh.” My heart cracks.

  “So I’m caught. I can’t do that anymore. I don’t want to do that.” He eases my hurt. “But…” He trails off, unsure of what more to say.

  “Sometimes life gets hard.”

  He shakes his head. “Sometimes I don’t know what the fuck to do and I don’t know how to take control. Everything is so fucking uncertain.”

  Neck tipped back, he growls at the ceiling.

  “I haven’t told my mom about the twins, about you.”

  I try hard to hide my shock, failing miserably. “You talk to your mom?”

  “Mm,” he confirms distractedly. “I visit her grave. Talk to her about how much of a fucking failure I am. She listens and I think I still have her love. No matter how much I disappoint her.”

  “Rocco.”

  He shakes his head, standing to distance himself from me. “Talk about a buzzkill.”

  “Baby.” I stand, moving toward him. He attempts to move away but I halt him, hand on his arm, pulling him back. “Let’s go now. To Lila. Tell her about Blake and Jesse. Tell her about me. Tell her about the things that make you happy.”

  Rocco’s eyes are consuming on a good day. Days like today, tumultuous days, they’re like caverns; dark and deep, voids you could easily become lost in.

  He doesn’t speak for long drawn out seconds. Enough to make me second guess myself.

  “I… I shouldn’t have suggested it. I—”

  “You’d do that with me?”

  What is it about imposing men that show their vulnerability that slices away at your heart?

  “Of course,” I implore.

  “It’s your dad’s birthday, the party—”

  “Is hours away,” I cut him off. “We’ll go and be back with plenty of time.”

  His arms wrap around me tightly. The obvious strength in them squeezing me in love and appreciation. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  I shiver as I step onto the well-kept grass of the cemetery, my arms wrapping around my body to shield myself from the cold. I offered to stay in
the car and while he didn’t respond verbally, he did so in true Rocco form, through action; opening my door and reaching for my hand.

  The place is deserted. Not a single soul in sight. The smell of fresh-cut grass and warring floral aromas just an upbeat and pleasant scent to attribute to death. To those who left us behind.

  Rocco is comfortable with me following at a distance. He didn’t want me to wait in the car, but I’m betting he doesn’t want me listening to his conversation either.

  It might be strange to admit, but I feel like I’ve met Lila Shay. Her presence was so heavy at Parker and Codi’s wedding, she was a little hard to ignore. Add that to the love she obviously poured into her two boys and I know she’s someone I’d admire.

  In the beginning, I refused to even attempt to understand Rocco. I pinned him as a poisonous human. Everything in his vicinity decaying and turning black. But as time passed, I saw through that smokescreen. Lila Shay loved her boys so hard, that upon her death, her loss was catastrophic. Rocco and Parker loved their mother so completely, they had no other choice but to seek revenge. They were never fueled by hate. They were inflamed by love. A devotion so chaotic, few people would ever understand it.

  Her name, carved into her headstone, reads the same on Rocco’s heart. Forever ingrained, a marking that will live long after we all die.

  Loving wife. Adored sister. Devoted mother.

  The words on her gravestone. Devoted. Mother. If Rocco were to die today, his would read something similar.

  Loving brother. Devoted son.

  He’s more like his mother than he’s ever realized. I just wish he could see it. See that good that lived in her is also very much alive in him.

  “I wish it was raining,” he says.

  “Rain and tears aren’t the same, Rocco,” I tell him. “You can’t camouflage emotion with mother nature. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

  “Says who?”

  I shrug, eyes skating across the cemetery, taking in the flowers offered to those we’ve lost. It surprises me, how you never come across another person in a cemetery, yet headstones are always adorned with fresh flowers. Are we just so overcome with our own grief, we refuse to see anyone else? Or does fate let us select our timing, ensuring our grief is our own?