𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 is your average do-good lawyer on the rise to fame as a representative of young victims. Except her motivations aren't all that innocent. Rayne's only goal is to run from her past, to leave confrontation for the courtroom, no...
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𝗥ayne allowed Beau to run into the Penthouse before she shut the door and entered herself. She stood in front of it, not moving for a second as she stared at the disheveled room.
She was right; all the blood that was split that day had been cleaned up. The entire room smelled like antiseptics and disinfectant. The window that Christian smashed her head against was taped up, but wind still blew through the material, reaching her, inviting shivers.
The room in which she stood held captive of almost three years of memories. Each one of them flashed before her eyes like a holographic figure. Never had she imagined that standing in a home formerly owned, formerly shared with someone she loved, would be a category of avoidance in her mind. She never thought that another house of horrors would be built alongside the first one.
Rayne gripped the edge of her shirt, holding herself together; she wasn't alone. That, and the fact that she was going to be okay. Christian is behind bars. There's no one here that can hurt her. She's all alone with no one but her thoughts to fear.
"Are you okay?" Beau asked her, snapping her trance.
She looked over at him and smiled. He was jumping up and down on the faded black couch, a grin plastered to his boyish face. His black hair flew with the movement of his exercise, and for the first time since she met him – he truly looked like a kid. The thought steered sadness and joy in her heart.
"Yes, I'm fine," she walked over to him, "I just zoned out."
"Okay," he breathed.
"You need to be careful up there. If I bring you home with a broken bone your family will hate me forever," she crossed her arms and looked at him.
"Well, I won't hate you for forever," he laughed, "—plus if Rueben hates you that makes you available for me again. Ten years ain't got nothing on us."
She smiled, "You are adamant about being with me, huh?"
"Yes."
She walked over to the side of the couch he wasn't jumping on and took a seat, then she beckoned him to do so as well. He nodded and jumped over to her, landing on his butt.
"Can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
"Your brother makes me really happy," she grabbed his little hand.
Beau looked at her with wide eyes for a moment. She watched the wheels click in his head as they closed, and felt good when the corners of his mouth remained upturned.
"I know," he said finally, "Rueben has that effect on people."
"He does, and he doesn't even know it."
"Rightttt!" he rolled his eyes, "That guy is so smug all the time, but he makes it so obvious he's pretending. Sometimes I wish I was him. He's so cool. He has a pretty girlfriend, a lot of best friends, and more. He doesn't need to be babied by his parents anymore. And he doesn't have to be the leader of the mafia one day."
