Revolt (Legends and Love)

The sun shines through the window, hitting my face as I slowly wake up. There’s a leg holding mine down and an arm slung across my back, and when I lift my head, I see Raffiel there, asleep. For a moment, I just soak in the sight of him. He’s naked, and the scars littering his body are proof of his harsh life, but for once, he’s not running into a situation or barking commands. No, he’s sleeping in, something I’ve never seen him do. Smiling, I lay my head back on the pillow and just watch him like a creeper, cuddling deeper into Raff Jr., who must have wormed his way into my bed during the night. He seems to split his time between all of the guys and has complete run of the house, and we hired the best dog walker and trainer around to help. It’s clear he’s fitting in like he’s always belonged here.

Just like them.

“It’s weird to watch people sleep, Miss Harrow.” Raff’s voice comes out rough, and one eye opens as he grins at me.

I snuggle deeper into the bed. I didn’t notice a change in him indicating he was awake, the sneaky bastard. “You love it,” I purr.

Grinning wider, he tugs me into his arms and closes his eye again. “Uh-uh, go back to sleep.”

“It’s morning,” I protest.

“It’s too early.” He buries his head in my neck as I grin.

“It’s nine.” I feel him stiffen and his head lifts. He’s wide awake now.

“Nine? No, it’s not.” He looks at the clock in shock. “I haven’t slept until nine . . . well, ever.”

“Then you needed it.” I lay my head on his chest, expecting him to run off and check on the others, but he simply holds me tighter. His hand caresses my body softly as he embraces me, letting me soak in his warmth. I haven’t shared a bed a lot since Tucker, and even then, it was when he was exhausted or passed out.

I like this. It’s nice. He’s warm, strong, and comforting. I feel safe in his arms. It’s as if none of the outside world could touch us here.

I have things to do and so does he, but right now, I don’t care.

I just want this moment to last a lifetime. I’m happy.

We lie like this for a while, neither of us wanting to move. We don’t talk, we just hold each other, his hand tracing my body like he’s memorizing it, and knowing Raff, he is.

“This tattoo isn’t like the others. It’s older too,” he murmurs, his hand stopping on my hip. I know exactly which one he means and stiffen, unable to meet his eyes. “Reign?”

“It was my first one,” I admit. “I was underage, and it was done by a cheap tattoo artist who spent the entire time looking at my ass.”

“Always a rebel,” he murmurs. “Lost boys? What does it mean?”

I pull away and he frowns, searching my gaze. I’ve never told anyone, not even Tucker. I always lied or changed the subject. I could do that now or tell him to drop it and Raff would, but part of me wants to tell him. Part of me wants someone else to understand the pain I carry with me every single day of my life. If anyone could, it’s Raff.

He would never judge me. He would simply be here for me because that’s who he is. He’s a protector, a shield . . . my shield. This might have started as a job for both of us, but we know it’s so much more now. He’s everything I never knew I needed. He’s a control freak, and he’s strict and surly and stubborn, but he makes me feel safe. He makes me happy. He makes me want to be a better person, and even when I’m doing fucked-up shit, he’s there with me.

He’s my ride or die.

They all are.

“It’s for my brother,” I share quietly. His eyes soften, and I glance down at his thumb caressing the script. “It’s something we joked about. We called ourselves the lost boys. It was really just a way to fantasize and escape our lives.”

“Escape?”

I peer up at him, wondering how much to share, but I’m so tired of secrets and being on guard all the time. Maybe he’ll hurt me, or maybe he’ll use it against me like everyone else has, but at some point, I have to trust someone. I’m realizing I can’t do this alone. I might be Reign fucking Harrow, rebel and anarchist, but I’m also just a woman—a woman who wants to trust and be loved.

Maybe I need to learn to trust, and maybe that needs to start here, with a man who would willingly take a bullet for me. A man who carries me to bed when I’ve been working too hard in the studio. A man who makes sure I eat. A man who sees through my bullshit and calls me on it. A man, I realize, I’m starting to fall in love with.

“An escape,” I murmur, covering his hand on my hip for courage. “I grew up really poor. My little brother, Attie, and I shared a room, and we often went days without eating since our dad couldn’t afford it. My mom was in and out. She wasn’t an addict or anything like most people thought. She was just absent and flighty. She often told us she never wanted kids. My dad let her come and go because he loved her, but then one day, she never came back, and that was when everything changed. He was really angry, overworked, and tired. I tried to keep us out of his way, and I tried to make it easier on him. I got a job after school and would clean the house, but eventually, his anger turned on us and he took his pain out on me. I never let Attie see. At first, it was just some punches or kicks when he was drinking or stumbling in from a double shift, but it kept getting worse. He hated us, hated everything we stood for, and most of all, he hated that I looked like the woman who abandoned him.” I laugh bitterly as Raff holds me tighter.

“It got worse. It turned into broken bones and black eyes. I was careful not to visit the same hospitals or clinics so nobody noticed. I knew no matter how bad our house was, it could be so much worse in the system—I had seen it myself—so I protected my little brother as much as I could. I saved up my money for him so when he was ready and I was eighteen, we could get out of there. I gave him my food and my clothes and held him when he had nightmares, but I know he saw the pain our father inflicted on me. One night, I thought that he was asleep and I went to the bathroom. My father was drunk and as usual, he took it out on me, screaming about how she never would have left had I not been born. I curled into the floor and waited for it to be over, but then I looked up and there he was. Attie held his stuffed wolf, and there were tears in his eyes. Something broke in me, but even more so when he ran to my father to try and get him off me. My dad smacked him so hard, he flung into a door. I remember that. I remember the sound his body made even now when he hit it. I remember the blood dripping on his dinosaur onesie. It haunts me. My father left to go to the bar, and I held Attie and cleaned him up. He didn’t even cry, not once.” My brow furrows, and tears well in my eyes. “No, he took my hand and looked me right in the eye and said, ‘It’s okay, Rey. It’s not your fault.’ He was a kid, Raff. He was a fucking kid and he told me it was okay. He told me not to blame myself even though I couldn’t protect him after I promised to. He told me we protected each other and that he loved me. I cried myself to sleep as I held him that night.”

Wiping my eyes, I look up at Raff to see his own are glassy. “I hated my father. I hated him so much, so yes, Raff, an escape. Now you know I’m nothing like these rich bitches who grew up in a loving home. I’m nothing but a pretender who doesn’t belong here, who can still smell the faint whiff of alcohol and see the patches in her clothes.”

Pulling me closer, he kisses my head. He doesn’t tell me it’s going to be okay. He doesn’t minimize what I went through. He doesn’t ask for more details. He just listens and comforts me, and in his eyes, I see that he knows how much it cost me to share. “Thank you for telling me, baby.”

Resting my head on his chest, I let the tears fall. “I couldn’t protect him, Raff.”

“You were a kid, Reign. It wasn’t your job to protect him, yet you did anyway. You loved him, and you did everything you could. It’s time to stop blaming yourself, baby. It’s time to forgive yourself.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand,” I whisper, pulling back. I feel too raw, too vulnerable.

He catches me before I can escape and pins me down, glaring at me. “Then make me understand, Reign,” he demands. “Why can’t you forgive yourself for your father’s crimes?”

I try to look away to escape his all-seeing eyes, but he turns my face back to him. “Tell me,” he orders.

“Because it got him killed!” I practically scream before covering my face. I feel him jerk, and then soft hands pry mine away.

“Tell me,” he whispers.

“I can’t.” Sliding from the bed, I hurry to the bathroom, slamming the door. He tries the handle but it’s locked. His hand slaps into the wood, making me jump.

“One day, you will tell me, Reign. One day, you will trust me enough. I will be here waiting, remember that. I’m always in your corner, baby. Always. No matter what you tell me. I won’t let anyone hurt you, including yourself, but I’ll give you this time you need, and I’ll be downstairs. You haven’t pushed me away. I’ll be right there waiting.” He retreats, and I slide down the door, placing my head on my knees.

The tears fall once more because I know he will be downstairs, waiting for me. He won’t stop until he learns the truth, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that. My broken heart never recovered from what happened, and I’ve spent so long running, I don’t know how to stop.

Not even for them.

For him.

“Rey?” His little voice cracks, filled with pain. “Rey, wake up. Please wake up, Rey. I need you. It hurts, Rey. Please.”

Leaping to my feet to escape the memory, I crank on the shower, adjusting the temp so it’s the hottest it can get, and step under it. I let the sting wash away the pain and tears, my fingers covering the tattoo on my hip.

What I said is true.

It’s my fault he’s dead.

I can never forgive myself for that, so how could anyone else?

After showering, I wrap myself in clothes that offer comfort—an oversized band shirt from a friend and some soft leggings and socks. I hesitate downstairs, but Raff simply smiles at me. There are no hard feelings or calling me out for being a chicken. He simply holds out a mug of coffee, kisses me softly, and goes back to the stove to help Dal cook. I let out a relieved sigh, knowing I’ve escaped for now, and instead head into the living room where I find Cillian and Astro on the sofa, watching the news. I sit between them, needing their warmth and comfort, and they move closer and hold me tight. They do it automatically, and it makes me smile as I wrap my slightly shaking hands around the mug.

“Morning, beautiful.” Astro kisses the top of my head.

“Morning.” Cillian lays a hand on my thigh and squeezes.

“Morning,” I whisper, unable to look at them just yet in case they see the ghosts in my eyes. When Raff sits heavily on a chair, his eyes on me, I avoid his gaze.

“Breakfast won’t be long,” Dal says as he enters, kissing me before he sits on the floor at my feet.

“Thanks,” I murmur, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee to avoid having to say anything else. It’s only then I notice what’s happening on the TV, and I almost groan as it shows an interview of Tucker from the night before.

“Shit, let me turn it off.” Cillian reaches for the remote, but I cover his hand, frowning at Tucker’s image.

“Wait,” I say without looking, my eyes on the TV.

His eyes are bloodshot, and his fingers are clenched together and white. He’s shaking and pale. He looks sick. He also looks horrendous, which is worrying because he’s always so put together.

“So you and Reign are truly over?” the interviewer asks.

“She’s made it very clear we would never get back together, and I respect that. I respect her.” He looks at the camera. “Reign, I want you to know I’m sorry. I did love you, I still do, but I hurt you. I made a mistake, a big one. You were right. It’s so easy to lose yourself in this industry, and although I’m suffering with an addiction, that’s not an excuse for what I did to you. I’m going to get the help I need, and I hope you can forgive me one day for what I did to you. You deserved better, so much better.”

“Mistakes happen,” the interviewer interrupts. “Don’t you think she is being overly emotional?”

“I just told you I’m suffering with an addiction and that I hurt someone I vowed to love, and your first response is to diminish her hurt by calling it overly emotional? No, I don’t think she’s being emotional. I cheated on her, and I betrayed her trust. I betrayed our relationship and everything it stood for, and not only that, she had to deal with the fallout with vultures like you picking apart her every move while she nursed a broken heart.”

It could be PR, but the fire in his eyes is real. No social media manager would allow him to talk to an interviewer like that.

No, this is real.

I don’t want to like Tucker, I really don’t, but seeing him defend me while apologizing reminds me of the man I fell in love with, not the one the industry created.

“I made a horrible mistake, and a good person paid for it,” he continues, looking at the camera. “Reign, if you see this, know that I hear you and thank you. If you had never . . . had never loved me and then left me, I wouldn’t be getting the help I need. It took breaking your heart to realize how truly messed up I am. I’m sorry for that. I hope you find someone who is worth loving, and I hope I didn’t ruin your trust in everyone too much. That’s all I have to say.” He takes his mic off, stands, thanks the flabbergasted interviewer, and walks away.

Sitting back, I stare at the screen as the anchor discusses and picks apart his interview, but I know he didn’t do it for the public. He did it for me. He made his problems public so he could apologize.

I might never be able to forgive Tucker for what he did to me, but I realize I don’t hate him anymore. We are both flawed people just trying to find our way in this world, and people make mistakes. His mistake led me here. I was able to find my identity, my muse, my happiness, and my strength. What he did was fucked up, but maybe it had to happen.

Maybe this is the best outcome for both of us. Some people are not meant to be together forever, and had I not walked in on them, I probably would have stuck by him and faded into a shell of who I was. Some people simply come into your life to teach you lessons. Tucker broke my heart, but he also showed me who I could be if I wanted to. He showed me what I don’t want for the rest of my life, and just now, he showed me what it means to be brave.