Page 32 of Unraveling Rain
“So basically you’re worried about the women in the family—except Ruin.”
He nods. “But at least they’re under the same roof. With you, I’m constantly worrying that something is going to happen.”
Emotion flickers in his eyes, and a pang of guilt punches me straight in the gut.
“I’m sorry you had to see that back then,” I whisper, reaching out and grabbing his hand.
He squeezes it tight—so tight, it almost hurts. But I don’t let go.
“No. Never be sorry about that,” he says, his voice thick, tears running freely down his cheeks and disappearing into his mountain man beard. “I’m glad I could do something… even if I couldn’t protect you.”
The raw ache in his voice guts me.
I reach up with my free hand, my fingers trembling, and rest my forehead gently against his.
“I’m sorry you have to worry extra about me,” I say, my voice splintering into pieces as the tears break free, sliding down my face.
River shakes his head, breathing hard through his nose like he’s fighting every feeling threatening to drown him.
“It’s not your fault,” he says, barely getting the words out. “We live in a world full of entitled monsters who think they can take what they want… even when a woman says no,”
His voice cracks—and so do I.
I start crying harder, the sound escaping me in broken gasps.
A rush of memories from that horrible night crashes into me.
The fear.
The helplessness.
The shame I never asked for but still carry like a second skin.
I press my forehead harder against River’s desperate for something solid in this moment, something safe.
“I wish I could go back in time and beat that motherfucker senseless before he had a chance to hurt you,” he says, his voice low and shaking with a rage so raw it shatters my heart.
I pull back just enough to see the pain carved into his face.
I always knew I was carrying the weight from that night.
I just didn’t realize River was too.
“No,” I hurry to say, grabbing his hand tighter. “You would have gone to prison. And I couldn’t have lived with that.”
For a moment, neither of us says anything. We just breathe, the air thick between us, heavy with all the things we couldn’t stop and take back.
My sensitive, empathetic brother is carrying the world on his shoulders and doesn’t know how to stop.
“I need you to promise me,” I whisper, my voice still raw, “that you’ll take care of yourself, River. You’re always worrying about everyone else… but who’s taking care of you?”
He shakes his head, breaking our contact, pulling his hands away like he’s afraid he might shatter.
“Yes, River. You must.”
I sit up straighter, shifting onto my knees so I’m eye-level with him again. I wipe my tear-streaked face with my shirt and force myself to breathe steadily.
“As you said, Ruin, Miles, and Merlin are okay. You have Granny and Mama close by. And me…”
