Chapter Thirty Two

A Havlin member rode up the driveway to the cottage. Rachel, sitting on a stool in the garage, watching Ruger work on his Harley, waved. It was Brooke's husband, Maverick.

Ruger straightened and grabbed the rag on the seat of his bike. She slid off the stool and patted his ass on her way to the door leading into the house, but he tagged her wrist, keeping her in the garage.

"He won't stay long." Ruger kissed her.

Not wanting to invade his space when he had company over, she sat back on the stool and let Ruger walk out of the garage alone. She looked at the rolling tray beside her.

Earlier, she'd shown Ruger how to get music on his phone, and the tracks she'd put in his playlist were looped to play repeatedly. The look of wonder on his face reminded her that he hadn't been out of prison long. He'd missed out on so much.

She could see how his absence from society affected him. Eighteen years was a long time. Technology had advanced so much that she could now see where certain common things, like streaming shows on television or ordering online, were new to Ruger.

He played his ignorance off as anger because he hadn't experienced these things. He preferred to go through life alone rather than ask for help.

He wasn't mean or scary to her. But she could understand why others would view him that way.

"Rach?"

Ruger gazed at her with a mix of concern and hesitation. Rachel grabbed the hem of her shirt and worked it around her thumb in worry as she approached them. Something was going on.

He lifted his arm, welcoming her to his side. "Maverick's brought some news about Shady."

She stepped closer, tucked under the security of his arm, and looked between the two men. Maverick was a wall of indifference. Ruger was concerned.

Her heart pounded. She knew the moment would come when she received news of her brother—the weeks of worrying about him had prepared her for the news that he was dead—killed by the organization that had kidnapped her.

Her stomach rolled. Accepting that her brother was gone wasn't easy. He was the only family she had. Good or bad, she loved Shady. He was family.

She swallowed hard, prepared to hear the worst. "Tell me," she whispered.

His arm tightened around her. Her pulse pounded in her head.

"Shady is..." he began, his voice gentle but firm. "He's back in prison, Rach."

The air left her lungs in a burst of relief. "What? How? I thought...oh, God, I thought you were going to tell me he was dead."

"He's alive. He's just back in prison. He got a message out. One that got to Maverick, letting you know where he was."

"I don't even want to know what he did this time." She pressed her hand to her forehead. "I'm just relieved that he isn't...how long is his sentence?"

Maverick shook his head. The inner workings of the prison were a foreign concept to her. She hated relying on others when Shady could use the phone to contact her. But he refused because he had too many dealings with the wrong people with whom he needed to keep in touch. That's probably why he was in prison now.

Ruger rubbed her back. "That's easy enough to find out later. For now, you can relax, knowing where Shady is."

Tears welled up in Rachel's eyes as she processed the news. Relief that her brother was alive mixed with the sadness of their broken family. "My family is never going to be normal."

Ruger pulled her into a comforting embrace. "Nobody's family is normal."

Rachel buried her face in his shoulder, feeling sorrow and gratitude. As she closed her eyes, a childhood memory came flooding in.

She was eight, running through the empty lot behind their house with Shady. They laughed, the sun setting behind them, casting long shadows on the grass. Her brother had found a stray puppy, and they spent the afternoon playing with it. Their worries about losing their mother and their father at home with a load of hot merchandise he was trying to sell on the streets were forgotten in those precious moments of innocence.

Her brother, eight years older than her, was still young enough to enjoy the excitement of playing with a puppy.

"He's a furry ball." Shady held the puppy up, looking him all over.

Rachel giggled, reaching out to pet the small, fluffy dog. "He's so cute. What should we name him?"

Shady thought for a moment, his face serious. "How about Lucky? Because we're lucky to have found him."

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. "I like that one."

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing with Lucky, their laughter confined to the privacy of the tall grass as they shared one happy day as brother and sister.

"He wasn't always a criminal," Rachel whispered, her voice trembling. "When we were kids, Shady was always finding something fun for us to do. We were so happy."

Ruger stroked her hair gently. "Hold on to the good memories, Rach. That's the brother you love."

She circled his waist with her arms and leaned her cheek against his chest, needing the comfort and strength he always brought her.

Maverick cleared his throat. "Sorry about the bad news."

The Havlin member walked back to his Harley before she could thank him. The news was a shock, but it was better than what she'd feared all these weeks.

She inhaled deeply and blew out her breath. Shady was alive. Now that she had time to process the news, knowing he was in prison was a relief. In there, he was safe, even if he hated confinement.

But her relief was tangled with guilt. How could she feel better knowing her brother was locked up? It felt selfish, almost cruel. She remembered the nights she lay awake, imagining the worst—Shady handcuffed in someone's basement, getting beat every day or worse. The thought had been unbearable, a constant weight on her chest.

That weight was lifted, but it left behind a hollow ache. She was glad he was alive, but the reality of his situation was still grim. Shady was in prison, a place he despised, a place that stripped away his freedom. Maybe this time, while he sat in prison, he'd learn to value his life.

It was selfish to feel better, but he was alive. That was all that mattered.

She clung to that thought, trying to push away the guilt. Someday, Shady would realize how precious life was and hopefully stop living so dangerously. But what if he didn't? What if prison only hardened him further, made him more reckless?

She shook her head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts. She had to believe in him, believe that he could change. But the fear lingered, a shadow that refused to be banished. She wanted to be hopeful, to trust that this was a turning point for him. Yet, the reality of their broken family loomed large, a reminder of all the times hope had been dashed before.

As she stood, conflicting emotions swirled within her—relief, guilt, hope, and fear. She was thankful to have Ruger by her side, his steady presence a balm to her troubled heart. She looked forward to the future with him, even as the past cast its ugly shadow on her.

Ruger gently cupped her face in his hands. "Are you okay?"

She tapped the side of her head. "My thoughts are fighting. This is so messed up, and to think I dragged you—"

"I owed Shady a favor, Rach. It wasn't you." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "If not for your brother, I never would've found you."

"I know, but..." She blew out an exhausted breath.

"Relief and guilt will eat you up. What matters is you're here, you're alive, you're safe." He whispered, "You're with me."

She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm glad he's alive but scared for him. And I feel so guilty for being relieved."

Ruger pulled her into a tight embrace. "One day at a time. You don't have to go through this alone."

Rachel buried her face in his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his support. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He kissed her lips softly. "We'll get through this together."

Rachel pulled back slightly, looking into Ruger's eyes. "Thank you for being my rock."

Ruger brushed a tear from her cheek. "We're in this together, Rachel. Always."