Reining Devotion: A Chaotic Rein novel

by Jenner, Haley

  “Emotional tears have a different make up than other secretions of your eyes,” I tell him distractedly. “It’s all science, but they move through different tissue, which makes your eyes puffy. Basically, your body is a traitorous bitch when it comes to emotion, it wants everyone to know you’re breaking.”

  Glancing between his mother’s headstone and myself, I take his hint.

  “I’m going to sit over there.” I point to a large Dogwood tree, the white flowers in full bloom.

  It’s hard not to watch him. To let my eyes wander to where he sits in an attempt to work out what he’s saying.

  Did he jump straight into the twins?

  Has he mentioned me?

  Is it selfish to consider he even would with everything else he has going on?

  He’s with her for over an hour. Sixty minutes I’m certain he’s no way filling with mindless conversation. Which means she’s either talking back, or he’s enjoying their shared silence as he decompresses.

  Standing abruptly, his hand moves across his cheeks, swiping at the tears he doesn’t want me to see.

  My broken soul, so afraid to let anyone see the cracks in his armor for fear they’ll turn their back.

  Hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, he keeps his face downward. “I just have one more person to see.”

  “Of course. Take as much time as you need.”

  He waits, a sharp inhale as he moves to speak, but stopping, thinking better of it.

  I watch his retreat, waiting until he’s out of sight before moving toward the ghost of Lila Shay. I don’t know why I wait for him to leave. Whether it was a conscious decision or one my mind made for me. Would he be mad? Am I overstepping?

  Sliding my hand along the grey stone, I feel the damp chill under my palm.

  “You don’t know me,” I tell her. “Or maybe you do. I’m not sure how all this works.”

  Dropping to my haunches, I pick at the dead grass around her headstone, tossing it aside to leave only the green. To leave only life.

  “My name is Camryn Rein and I’m so sorry that you were taken from this world too quickly. You’re missed, I’m sure you know that. But just in case you had your doubts, please know that you’re thought of every day.”

  I stand again, comfortable that her headstone is perfect.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I love your son. I think it’s a hope for all parents that their children find someone who love them as much, if not more than you do. I don’t know if you were ever concerned that Rocco may not find that…”

  I sigh.

  “Actually, from what I’ve been told about you, I think you knew he’d own someone’s heart one day. That he’d guard that heart with everything he holds inside of him; scarred or whole. I just want you to rest easy knowing that I love him that way too. I own his heart as much as he does mine. I promise to protect it, to cherish it, to love it through its darkest moments.”

  I see him approach, eyes searching for me at the Dogwood where he left me.

  “Thank you,” I tell Lila’s gravestone, hoping like hell she hears me. “Thank you for filling him with a love so thorough, most people can’t understand it. It’s a beautiful kind of love, Lila.”

  The touch of his hand brushes my shoulder and I turn. Eyes filled with tears, he stares at me in complete diffidence. I pull him into a hug.

  “Mira?” I ask, my face pressed forcefully against the hard plane of his chest.

  “Yeah,” he stutters. “Hardest conversation I’ve ever had in my life and the other person couldn’t even respond.”

  “That’s almost worse,” I tell him. “Because you never really know whether you have the forgiveness you’ve asked for. It’s all unknown and nothing is more compromising than the unknown.”

  My chin resting over his shoulder, his face buries into my neck, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of my pulse. It’s only then that I see her.

  Blake Shay, watching us candidly.

  Our eyes catching, she brushes at the tears she’s shedding before turning on her heel and disappearing as fast as she appeared.

  I have no idea how she got here. How she managed to follow us, or why. But I keep her hidden company to myself. This was a private moment for Rocco. One of reluctant grief and a step forward he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to take. A show of vulnerability I’m not sure he’d be willing to share with his kids. Not yet anyway. Not while the blame still has his heart tied in knots.

  Walking back to the car, he’s quiet, contemplative even.

  “Do you think they’ll stay?” he questions. “Blake and Jesse.”

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

  “If they could just tell me what they wanted… I want them to tell me who they want me to be and I’d strive my fucking best to be that person for them.”

  I pull at his arm, stopping him from opening his car door. My hands brush along his chest. “Roc, baby, what makes you think they want you to be anyone other than who you are?”

  “Ain’t exactly the pick of the bunch am I, beauty?”

  I take a step back, angered by his self-loathing. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “This.” I wave my hand in front of his face. “All the fucking contempt you wrap yourself in. You’re a good fucking person, Rocco Shay. A little psychotic at times, sure, but love is all about the extreme. In my opinion anyway. No one wants to be loved half-assed. They want to be fuckin’ consumed. My dad has me followed for fuck’s sake,” I gripe. “But I know it’s because it’s his neurotic way of making sure I’m safe.”

  I move a step forward, hands pressed against the side of his neck. “Rocco. Stop holding yourself to this warped idea of your own imperfection. No one is fucking perfect. No one.”

  “You are,” he whispers.

  “Well, yeah, obviously.” I smirk. “I’m serious,” I implore. “I love who you are. Parker loves who you are. They will too. I just wish you’d find it in yourself to love the real version of you as well. He’s kind of amazing.”

  “Just kind of?” A finger dips into the line of my shirt, pulling me closer.

  “Maybe a little bit more,” I murmur, thumb and forefinger held between us showing an inch of space.

  Head dropping, he smashes his lips against mine. A simple closed mouth kiss that is full of appreciation and fierce love.

  * * *

  It’s not every day that your dad turns fifty-two. Or so Codi says.

  My dad hates celebrating his birthday. In fact, I’m pretty certain he despises it. What he doesn’t hate though, is having everyone he cares about in one place, enjoying one another’s company. So for that reason, each year, Dominic agrees to a birthday get-together at Codi’s suggestion.

  This one seems bigger than the last few years. I mean, York is here. Fucking York. Like, did Codi actually invite him? Don’t get me wrong, Rocco called him Dork when we entered the house and I’m not even gonna lie, my life was made.

  I’ve also had at least five margaritas and about to grab my sixth.

  “You don’t find it weird that the older Shay brother has just been brought into the fold?”

  Tipsy enough, I didn’t hear his approach.

  “No, Dork. I don’t.”

  He scowls. I smile.

  “You do realize you’re talking about my guy. Like, Rocco and I are involved and you’ve just basically told your boss that you aren’t a fan of one of his family members?”

  I hiccup.

  “You’re not my boss.”

  “But also kind of am.”

  He stomps away.

  “Fucking loser,” I mumble to myself, searching the room for Rocco.

  He’s talking to Tivoli, lounged back on our sectional with an untouched beer in his hand.

  Stone-cold sober to my wobbly and more-amusing-than-attractive intoxication.

  Stalking over with a sway to my hips that likely makes me look like a newborn giraffe, he smiles. A smile that promises a m
illion and one things. Not all appropriate, some downright filthy, but some overflowing with infatuation and love.

  “Oh hey,” I slur, that last margarita twisting my tongue.

  Tivoli, having seen my approach, makes himself scarce, a look of judgment in his eyes as he passes me.

  I look back, surprised at his scrutiny. Like they haven’t done shitty things in their lives. Yet they’re sitting on their throne of importance because why, they work for my dad?

  Rocco’s hand brushes against mine, a thick blonde brow raised as he pats his knee.

  I glance at it, tracking up to his face. “You have a nice face,” I compliment. “I’d like to sit on it.”

  “You’re drunk,” he observes.

  I scrunch my nose up in affection, pinching his cheek. “Pretty and smart.”

  “And irritated by drunk people.”

  I stick my bottom lip out. “And a total party pooper.”

  “Where’s your dad?”

  “Bed. He went too hard too early.”

  Rocco frowns.

  “Okay fine. He’s old and hates celebrating his birthday. He hates the extra attention.”

  “Smart guy.”

  “You can marry him in another life,” I tease. “Right now I’d like to kiss you.”

  Instead of kissing me like I’d hoped, he lets his eyes run along my face.

  “What?”

  “Nothin’,” he murmurs, lifting his thumb to drag it down my bottom lip, resting it along my chin. “Just thinkin’ I like you lookin’ like this.”

  I roll my eyes. “And what do I look like?”

  “Mine,” he speaks quietly. “You look like nothin’ but fuckin’ mine, beauty.”

  I let my lips slowly chase his. My soft pout bracketing his on a whisper of a kiss. One that lets me tell him I love him. That being his makes my heart sing in a way it never has.

  He offers me the same touch back. The rough whiskers of his beard a stark contrast to the tenderness in his lips when they caress mine.

  “Well, aren’t you two just the cutest.”

  We break away from one another reluctantly.

  Arms around Rocco’s neck, I smile up at his daughter. “We’re in love.”

  Her smile falters, only slightly, but enough for me to notice.

  “Like, gross.”

  I shrug. “It’s true, so best get used to us kissing in front of you all the time.”

  She looks almost sad at my terrible joke and I want to kick myself. She’s sixteen, likely still mourning her mother and possibly dreaming of a life where the four of them lived happily ever after.

  Kendall may be dead, but her memory will forever remain. A ghost that in Jesse and Blake’s eyes, I’m a poor replacement for.

  An awkward beat of silence ensues, one hundred and fifty percent driven by me, but I can’t help it.

  “I should let you two catch up,” I stutter, struggling as I move off Rocco’s lap.

  Fingers circling my wrist, he stops me, a look of confusion twisting along his menacingly beautiful face.

  “I’ll catch you in a bit,” I promise.

  He lets me go reluctantly, but only after his lips skate across my knuckles.

  I move through our living room, unsure what to make of myself. I was a mess just then. A bumbling fool with less than zero chill. If I want to be in Rocco’s life, I need to handle this shit better.

  “Hey, Camryn.” Blake’s footfalls sound behind me and pausing, I take a deep breath to steady myself. “Wait up.”

  “I was only joking about that kissing remark,” I stumble over my words awkwardly. Obviously inept in my ability to have a proper conversation with Rocco’s daughter, too many margaritas in.

  “Oh.” She waves me off. “You’re funny. Gross. But it was funny.”

  I nod, for fear of slurring my words if I attempt to speak.

  “I heard Parker talking the other night,” she confesses. “Maybe I was eavesdropping but…” She shrugs. “Semantics. He said you hated my dad.”

  My mouth opens in shock, closing again when I can’t think of anything to say.

  “Now you love him?” she tests.

  “Yes,” I croak out, clearing my throat in discomfort.

  “What changed?” she asks earnestly. “You’re a good person. How did you go from hating him to loving him?”

  This poor girl. I want to hug her. Pull her into my body and assure her everything will work out.

  I exhale heavily. “I’m a little too drunk for this conversation,” I tell her honestly. “But I’m a big believer in talking shit out, so if I slur or repeat myself too many times, please don’t judge me.”

  Glancing around the room, too many listening ears present, I tip my head toward the kitchen and she follows without issue.

  “Sit.” I point to a stool, depositing myself with an eye to the entryway so I can see anyone approach.

  “I don’t think I ever hated him,” I tell her honestly. “I didn’t care to understand him and I refused to see him.”

  My mind travels back to those moments. To those bleak snaps of time where I was so consumed by my own grief and uncertainty, I refused to look at anyone else’s.

  “It’s funny,” I muse. “I used to only ever see hate when I looked at your dad. To the outside eye, I guess it’s a perception he doesn’t care to refute. He was molded that way, Blake. By Marcus. By Kane. Through loss.”

  She nods, swallowing my words like a junkie. She’s searching for something. I’m not sure what, but it’s important to her. Enough to coat her eyes in tears she’s not willing to shed.

  “But through all that, through all that hate, through all that venom and cruelty, you know what shined through?”

  Her head shakes side-to-side.

  “He wanted to avenge his mother because he loved her.”

  She swallows.

  “He took fists meant for Parker time and time again. Because he wanted to protect him.”

  Her lip trembles.

  “He poured every cent he had into finding you and Jesse because nothing, and I mean nothing, was more important to him than knowing whether you existed.”

  Her teeth bite into her lip.

  “He refused, up until today, to visit Mira’s grave for fear she would never forgive him for her death. A death that Marcus was responsible for.”

  Her eyes flash in… shame?

  “We were so far from friends, I don’t even think you could call us enemies and he helped me in a way no one else has.”

  “He’s a protector,” she whispers.

  “He told me I no longer needed to fear my demons because he’d always be right there with me, fighting them back and who the fuck would go up against him.”

  “That’d be nice,” she hums. “Knowing you had that.”

  I sit up straight. “You do, Blake. You have Rocco loving you harder than he’s ever loved anything else in his life.”

  “You think so?”

  Leaning forward, I grab her hand. “I know so. How can you not see that? He’s petrified of you leaving him. He’d lay his life on the line for you and Jesse. Whatever you’re so afraid of, it’s got nothing on your dad.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Dominic

  I stare at the photo in front of me, unsure of what to make of it.

  “Do we know who he’s meeting?”

  Tivoli shakes his head. “I haven’t been able to ID him as of yet. I’ll keep on it. It just seemed off, wanted to check it out.”

  Nodding, my eyes remain fixed on the photo. Jesse Shay meeting with an unknown man in a suit worth the same amount of money that could pay someone’s mortgage.

  “You did the right thing. How’d you know to follow him?”

  Tivoli, shifting forward on his chair, glances over his shoulder making sure the door to my office is closed. Content we’re alone, he still drops his voice. “I heard the kid talking to York. Threw a message under his nose and asked for directions.”

  Makes sense. />
  “Weird thing,” he continues. “Is that York didn’t actually give him directions. As soon as York recited the address, the kid was gone.”

  My lips turn down. “Odd.”

  “Mm-hm. I’ll keep digging.”

  Moving to stand, he pauses as Camryn knocks on the door. “Knock, knock.”

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, good. You’re here too. I wanted to talk to you both.”

  Tivoli looks at me uncertainly. Shrugging, I gesture back to the seat he was only moments ago sitting in.

  He waits for Camryn to sit down before taking his seat once again and I clock the way he looks at her. A soft longing disguised by his impassive mask.

  Truth is, Frank Tivoli has been infatuated with my eldest daughter for years. I don’t blame him, she’s beautiful.

  He’s never told me, which means he values his job more than he does his feelings for Camryn. In my eyes, that means he doesn’t care for her enough.

  “Dad, York and Tivoli are making me uncomfortable.”

  “What?” he blusters out, his usual calm caught off-guard by the directness in her declaration.

  “York made an unsavory comment about Rocco to me at your birthday party. Questioned why we’d welcomed him as family. I refrained by firing him on the spot, thinking you’d prefer the satisfaction.”

  I manage to hide my smirk.

  “And Tivoli?”

  “He glared at me all judgy the other night when I was sitting with Rocco,” she adds haughtily.

  “Sitting with him,” he spits. “You were sprawled over him like a cat on heat.”

  “Frank,” I burr, clear warning in my tone.

  “What I do with my boyfriend is none of your concern.”

  “Shall you have me fire Tivoli too?” I ask, not in the slightest bit serious.

  He moves to argue, but I hold a hand up, silently requesting he let my daughter speak.

  She straightens her shoulders. “Well, no. He’s family. He just needs to closet his judgment.”