His arms wrap around me immediately, one across my back, the other bracing my legs, keeping me tucked in close, and I don’t even pretend to be strong about it. I curl into him, pressing my face into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of leather andsoap and motor oil and Rev. It’s the only thing keeping me here in the now, from breaking down.
“I got you, Princess,” he murmurs, low and steady, right against my hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Every little sound makes me flinch. The clink of a glass. Someone’s footsteps in the kitchen. The door opening and closing somewhere down the hall. My nerves are shot, every muscle still tight like I’m bracing for another hit that never comes. Rev shifts slightly, and I tense without meaning to, and he stills instantly. “Hey,” he whispers. “It’s just me. Are you okay if I check you real quick?”
I nod, barely. His hands are gentle, careful, nothing like what my body is expecting. He brushes my hair back from my face, just enough to look at my cheek, and I hiss when the air hits it. “Fuck,” he breathes, and there’s so much anger in that single word it makes my chest ache. “Does it hurt bad?”
“It’s… sore,” I whisper. Everything hurts. My cheek. My feet. My chest. My heart.
His thumb barely touches my jaw, like he’s afraid to hurt me more, and then he pulls his hand back and wraps both arms around me again, tighter this time, protective, like he’s trying to keep the whole world from getting near me. “Your feet,” he says quietly. “They’re bleeding. We need to get them cleaned.” He glances toward Ansley. “Can you,”
“I got it,” she says immediately, already moving closer with a bowl of warm water and a towel. “Brooke, honey, I’m just going to clean them up, okay?”
I nod again, but my fingers tighten in Rev’s shirt when she reaches for me.
He notices. “Hey,” he murmurs, forehead resting against mine. “You’re okay. She’s just helping. I’m not letting go of you.” He keeps one arm locked around me while Ansley gently cleans my feet, and I bite my lip to keep from crying every time it stings, because I am so tired of crying and I don’t want to feel anything anymore.
But I do. I feel all of it. Bella is hovering, trying not to crowd me, wiping her eyes over and over like if she stops they’ll start spilling again. Bri is right there too, holding my hand, squeezing it every few seconds like she needs to make sure I’m still real.
I feel broken in a quiet, hollow way, like something inside me cracked and I don’t know how to put it back together yet.
Rev is the only steady thing in my world at the moment. The one thing I can hold onto. Everything else feels too loud. Too bright. Too much. And my brain won’t stop.
It keeps replaying the night like it’s stuck on a loop. Grant’s smile when he picked me up. How good he looked in that suit. How impressed I was by the restaurant. How I told myself I was finally doing something for me. He seemed perfect. Polished. Confident. Successful. The kind of man my books are full of. The kind of man I thought I was supposed to end up with.
I thought tonight was going to be the start of my happily ever after. Instead, it was the start of my nightmare. How could I have been so wrong?
I keep thinking about how he talked about himself all through dinner, about his money and his cars and his properties, and how I brushed off the way he ordered for me without asking, the way he looked irritated when I checked my phone, the way hissmile never really reached his eyes when I said I wanted to go home.
All the little warning signs I ignored because I wanted to believe. Because I was tired of being alone. Because I wanted to be wanted.
My throat tightens and I feel the tears coming again, hot and sudden. Rev feels it before I even make a sound. His arms tighten. “Hey. Hey, Princess. Breathe with me, okay?” He takes a slow breath, exaggerated, right against my hair, and I try to match it. In. Out. In. Out. “It’s not your fault,” he murmurs, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “None of this is on you.”
“But I,” My voice cracks. “I thought he was… I thought he was good.”
Rev doesn’t hesitate. “That doesn’t make it your fault. That makes him a lying piece of shit.” The words are rough, but the way he says them is gentle, like he’s protecting me even while he’s angry. “You didn’t do anything to deserve this,” he adds. “Not a damn thing.”
I press my face harder into his chest, and my hands clutch at his vest like I’m afraid if I loosen my grip, I’ll start shaking again. “I was so scared,” I whisper.
His chin rests on the top of my head. “I know, baby. I know.” And something about the way he says it, like he truly understands, like he felt it with me, makes another sob tear out of my chest.
He doesn’t shush me or tell me to calm down. He just holds me and lets me fall apart.
“I thought I was finally going to get my turn,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “I thought maybe… maybe this was it. That I could stop being the strong one for once.”
Rev’s breath stutters for half a second, just barely, but I feel it. “You get your turn,” he says quietly. “You hear me? You get it. Just not like this. Not with him.”
I don’t know why that makes me cry harder, but it does. Because I don’t feel strong right now. I feel small. And tired. And stupid for believing in a fairy tale.
Rev keeps me right there in his lap, like he promised, not letting me go even when Bella suggests moving me to the couch or the guest room. “She stays,” he says simply. “Right here.” And nobody argues with him. His hand moves in slow, steady circles on my back, grounding, anchoring, and I cling to him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that suddenly feels dangerous again. I don’t know how long I sit there. Minutes. Maybe longer.
Rev is still holding me when the front door opens again. I feel it more than I hear it, the shift in the room, the way everyone’s attention snaps toward the entry like something heavy just walked back inside.
Blade and Switch. Their boots thud against the floor, slow and solid, and even without looking I know they are both wound tight. I can feel it in the air, like the house itself knows something bad is about to be said out loud.
Bri appears at my side with a bottle of water, hands shaking just a little as she twists the cap off. “Here,” she says softly. “You need to drink something.”
Rev helps guide the bottle to my lips, steadying it when my hands do not quite work right yet. I take a few small sips, and even that feels like a lot, like my body is still figuring out how to do normal things again. “Good,” Rev murmurs. “That’s it.”
