Chapter 26
26
REIGN
Dirty Laundry - All Time Low
I don’t know why I said yes. Maybe it’s the way Lena looked at me when she asked, or maybe it’s because I can’t seem to say no to her lately. Either way, I’m here, standing under the overhang at the entrance to the rehabilitation center, watching the rain come down in steady sheets.
The wind’s cool, carrying the salty tang of the ocean with it. Gulls cry overhead, their voices sharp against the rhythm of raindrops hitting pavement. I glance at my watch, wondering if she’s running late. Typical Lena—she’s got a million things going on, and punctuality isn’t exactly her strong suit.
Her car pulls into the lot, tires splashing through shallow puddles, and I push off the wall, stepping closer to the edge of the overhang. She throws it into park and bolts out, making a mad dash toward me. She’s wearing just a tank top and a pair of leggings, her braid bouncing against her back as she sprints through the rain. By the time she reaches me, she’s soaked, shivering as water drips from her hair onto her shoulders.
“Lena,” I mutter, shaking my head as I shrug off my hoodie. “You’re freezing.”
“I forgot my jacket,” she says, her teeth chattering as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“Clearly.” I hold the hoodie out to her. “Here.”
She hesitates for half a second before grabbing it. “Thanks,” she mutters, her voice softer than usual. She pulls it over her head, the fabric swallowing her frame, and something about the sight makes my chest tighten.
Before she can say anything else, I hand her the coffee I picked up on the way. “Figured you’d need this. And knowing you, you probably didn’t have time to grab one.”
Her eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face as she takes the cup. “Caramel macchiato?”
“With extra caramel,” I say, smirking. “You’re welcome.”
She shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips as she takes a sip. “Extra caramel. You do know me.”
“Of course I do,” I reply with a smirk. “You’d riot if I got it wrong.”
She arches an eyebrow over the rim of the cup. “Riot? Please. You’d be the one apologizing and offering to get me another one.”
“Not a chance,” I shoot back, crossing my arms. “I’d just drink it myself and make you suffer.”
Her laugh is soft but genuine, and she takes another sip, tilting her head as she looks at me. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”
“I don’t think,” I say, my smirk widening. “I know.”
She rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face doesn’t falter. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” I say, leaning a little closer, “here you are, drinking the coffee I brought you, while wearing my hoodie.”
She shakes her head, muttering, “You’re impossible,” but her grin gives her away.
Seeing her in my hoodie does something to me—something raw, something I can’t shake even if I wanted to. It’s not just that she looks fucking good—though, hell, she does. It’s the fact that she’s wrapped up in something of mine, my scent clinging to her, the fabric brushing against her skin like I should be. It stirs something dark and possessive in me, something that makes my blood run hot.
I want to take her right here, no questions, no holding back. Press her up against the wall, the rain pounding outside while I claim every inch of her as mine. I want to hear her lose herself, feel her come undone under me, her body wrapped up in my hoodie like it’s a second layer of protection from the cold. But it’s not just about the cold. It’s about her. About me. About the fact that right now, she smells like me, and I can’t fucking think straight because of it.
She glances up at me, that goddamn hood slipping over her eyes, and I can’t tell if she knows what she’s doing to me. The way she pulls the sleeves down over her hands, looking all soft and innocent while I’m standing here barely keeping it together—it’s fucking maddening. Then she smirks, just a little, and yeah, she fucking knows.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, taking another sip of her drink like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
I clear my throat, my voice coming out rough, darker than I mean it to. “You’re welcome, celona mou .”
Her lips twitch at the nickname, but I’m too far gone to focus on that. My head’s full of every way I want to wreck her right now, how I want to feel her nails dig into my back, hear her breath hitch in my ear. My fingers twitch at my sides, fighting the urge to pull her in and give in to all the shit swirling inside me.
I look away, forcing myself to focus on literally anything else. The sound of the rain, the smell of the ocean—anything but the way she’s looking at me, the way her lips curve like she’s got all the power here. Because right now, I need to stay in control.
But fuck, she makes it impossible.
“Looks good on you,” I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.
She glances up at me, her cheeks faintly pink. “It’s warm,” she says simply.
I reach out, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face, and press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get inside, I’m sure you’re already late for your shift.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, leading the way through the doors.
The air inside the rehabilitation center is warm and a little humid, a big change from the cold rain we just came out of. It smells like saltwater and fish, with a faint hum of filters and the occasional splash breaking the quiet. It’s not bad, though. Kind of calming in a way I didn’t expect.
She turns her head to glance at me. “You coming, or are you planning to loiter all day?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I push off the wall, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Lead the way, boss.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t stop, her boots squeaking slightly on the damp floor as we head into a big room with massive tanks. The place looks like a behind-the-scenes tour of an aquarium—glass walls filled with glowing blue water and all kinds of creatures moving inside. Manta rays glide like they’ve got nowhere to be, and a few sleek sharks cut through the water like they’re on a mission.
“This is where the magic happens,” she says, dropping her bag on a counter and turning to me.
“Magic, huh?” I raise an eyebrow. “What’re you doing back here, teaching the sharks to play fetch?”
“Yeah, because that’s totally what I do,” she fires back, grabbing a bucket from the floor. “Smartass.”
I smirk, leaning against the counter as she steps up to the edge of a tank. She crouches, scooping up a handful of small fish and tossing them into the water. The sharks move instantly, snapping them up with quick, precise movements. It’s kind of eerie watching them, the way they move without hesitation.
“This is the rehab tank,” she explains, her tone softer now. “The animals here are recovering from injuries or illnesses. Once they’re healthy, we release them back into the ocean.”
“Rehab, huh? Guess even sharks can screw up their lives,” I say, crossing my arms.
She snorts, shaking her head. “Yeah, because getting tangled in fishing nets and hit by boats is totally their fault.”
“Touché,” I admit, watching as one of the manta rays glides up to the surface. “What about that guy? He in for bad behavior, or what?”
She points to one of the smaller sharks with a faint scar along its side. “That’s Archer. He was caught in a net and had a nasty infection when he came in. He’s doing a lot better now.”
Her voice changes when she talks about them—gets softer, like she’s talking about someone she actually knows. It’s... weirdly endearing.
“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” I ask, my tone more serious.
“Yeah,” she says, not looking away from the tank. “The ocean’s always been my thing, you know? It’s constant. Even when everything else is a mess, the ocean just... is.”
I nod, not saying anything for a moment. She’s not wrong. There’s something about this place, about her here, that feels different. Calmer. Like she’s more herself.
We step into a larger room with massive tanks lining the walls, each filled with clear blue water. The place is like an aquarium, but quieter, more intimate. The manta rays glide like they’ve got all the time in the world.
Lena stops in front of one of the bigger tanks. “Alright,” she says, turning to me with a grin. “You’re going to help me.”
“With what? Shark wrestling?” I ask, leaning against the counter.
She smirks. “Not quite. Come here.”
I push off the counter and follow her to the edge of the tank. Inside, a baby dolphin bobs just below the surface, its sleek body moving lazily through the water. It’s smaller than I expected, almost fragile looking, with a faint scar near its dorsal fin.
“This is Finn,” Lena says, crouching by the edge. “He’s recovering from a boat strike. We’re teaching him to swim again and making sure he’s eating properly.”
I glance down at the dolphin, who looks up at us with curious eyes. “What do you need me for? I don’t exactly speak dolphin.”
“You’re going to feed him,” she says, grabbing a small bucket of fish from the counter and handing it to me.
I take the bucket, skeptical. “What if he doesn’t like me?”
“He’ll like you,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Just hold the fish out and let him come to you.”
I crouch by the tank, feeling stupid as I hold out a small fish. Finn swims closer, his movements smooth and cautious. When he finally takes the fish from my hand, it’s gentle—careful, almost.
“See? Not so hard,” Lena says, grinning as she watches.
I glance up at her, smirking. “Guess I’ve got a way with animals.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she teases, standing. “Keep him company for a second. I’ll be right back.”
She disappears into another room, and I’m left alone with Finn. The little guy circles the tank a few times before coming back to the edge, where he bobs just below the surface, watching me.
“You’ve been through it, huh?” I mutter, resting my arms on the edge of the tank. “Yeah. Same here.”
Finn chirps softly, and for some reason, it hits me harder than it should. He’s in recovery, just like me. Pulled out of something that wasn’t his fault, stuck here until he’s strong enough to go back to the life he had before. And Lena? She’s the one helping him get there. Just like she’s been helping me, even when I didn’t want it.
The thought settles in my chest, heavy and strange. This place, this visit—it’s more than I expected. It’s not just about her showing me what she does. It’s her letting me in, showing me a piece of herself that’s raw and unguarded. And for the first time in a long time, I feel... lighter. Like maybe I can breathe a little easier.
Lena comes back, carrying a small net and a clipboard. She stops when she sees me, her expression softening. “You okay?”
I nod, brushing it off. “Yeah. Finn and I were just bonding.”
Her lips quirk into a smile as she crouches beside me. “He likes you.”
“Can’t blame him,” I say, tossing another fish into the tank. “I’m pretty likable.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Sure you are, tough guy.”
We finish feeding Finn together, her explaining more about his recovery process and how they’ll eventually release him back into the wild. The way she talks about it, about him, is so full of care and purpose. She’s not just doing a job—she’s healing something, and it hits me in a way I don’t know how to explain.
By the time we’re done, the rain’s eased up, and she leads me outside to a small bench overlooking the water. The hoodie’s still hanging off her, and she wraps it tighter around herself as she sits.
“You’re good at this,” I say after a while, breaking the silence.
She glances at me, raising an eyebrow. “At what?”
“At... caring,” I say, the words coming out rougher than I meant. “You put everything you have into this place, these animals. It’s not just a job for you.”
Her expression softens, and she looks back at the water. “It’s who I am,” she admits quietly. “I’ve always been like this. Cruz used to worry it was a kind of curse. Caring too much, he said it could be both a good thing, and a bad thing.”
“He wasn’t wrong,” I say, leaning back on the bench. “But caring like this, I don’t think it’s a bad thing, Lena. It’s... it’s what makes you, you. You’re making a difference, even if people don’t see it.”
She doesn’t respond right away, her gaze distant. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft. “Thanks. Anyways, I wanted you to see this place because... I don’t know. I thought maybe, if you could see that sometimes, bad things happen, but with a little care, patience and hard work, we can get through it, maybe it could help you? With all the stuff you’re going through.”
“It already has,” I admit, surprising myself. “More than you know.”
She turns to me, her eyes searching mine, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the gulls over head and the waves crashing on the shore just a few feet away. It feels... different. Like something shifted. Like maybe this place, this moment, is exactly where we’re supposed to be.
Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close against me. She doesn’t resist, her body fitting against mine like it was meant to. My fingers find her hair, tucking a damp strand behind her ear, and I can’t help but linger, letting my knuckles brush against her cheek.
Her gaze drops for a second, something vulnerable flickering in her expression, and it hits me in the chest. I press a kiss to her forehead, letting my lips linger there, and when I pull back, I meet her eyes again.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, my voice rough. “For this. For letting me see it.”
She doesn’t say anything, but the way she leans into me, her arms slipping around my waist, says enough. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel... steady. Like maybe I’ve finally found something to hold on to.