Chapter 17 - Blayne
Seventeen
Blayne
Three days later, I’m standing in Reggie’s living room trying to figure out how the hell I ended up agreeing to family movie night.
Not that I’m complaining—I just don’t remember the conversation that led to me being here on a Thursday night with a bag of microwave popcorn and three kids arguing over what to watch.
“We should watch something scary,” Jaylen says, scrolling through options.
“No way,” Annalise protests from her spot on the floor, surrounded by about fifteen stuffed animals. “I don’t like scary movies.” She pouts.
“You don’t like anything good,” he shoots back.
“That’s not true! I like lots of things!”
“Name one movie that isn’t animated.”
“Um…” She scrunches up her face, thinking hard. “The one with the dancing!”
“That doesn’t narrow it down, princess,” I tell her with a grin. “Half the movies ever made have dancing in them.”
She beams back at me. “The one where the girl dances with the beast!”
“Beauty and the Beast is animated,” Nia points out from the couch, where she’s got her ankle propped up on a pillow. I shake my head. She’s milking this injury for all it’s worth. Smart girl.
“The new one isn’t!”
“Fine,” Jaylen sighs dramatically. “We’ll watch your princess movie.”
“Actually,” Reggie says, coming in from the kitchen with drinks, “I was thinking something we’d all enjoy. What about that new action movie? The one with the guy from…”
“Mama, no!” All three kids protest in unison.
I chuckle. “What’s wrong with action movies?”
“She always picks the boring ones,” Nia explains, letting her head fall back on the couch arm like her mother’s alleged bad taste in movies makes her life miserable.
“I do not pick boring ones,” Regina objects with a laugh.
“Remember last time? That movie about the guy who was trying to save the world, but it was mostly just him talking to people in suits?” Jaylen argues.
“That was a very well-reviewed film,” Reggie says.
“It was two hours of meetings,” Jaylen adds. “With a few explosions.”
“There were some very good explosions,” Annalise jumps in, giving her mother a sweet, supportive smile. Reggie laughs, brushing back her daughter’s hair, before pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Thank you, baby.”
I’m watching the entire exchange with a grin I can’t hold back. This is what family looks like.
“How about we compromise?” I suggest. “Something with action, some romance, and enough plot to keep everyone interested.”
“Like what?” Annalise asks.
“The Princess Bride,” I tell her with a wink and a tickle that has her giggling.
“What’s that?” she asks between fits of laughter.
“You’ve never seen The Princess Bride?” I look around the room in mock horror. “That’s it. We’re watching it. This is an emergency.” I turn to Regina, pointing a mock-accusatory finger at her. “Ma’am, you’ve done this kid wrong.”
She laughs, shaking her head at my antics.
“Is it scary?” Annalise wants to know, eyes widening, definitely intrigued.
“A little. But mostly it’s funny, and romantic. And has the best sword fighting ever put on film. It’s the best. Trust me.” God, I sound like Peter Falk in the movie.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, we’re all settled in for the movie. And somehow, I ended up on the other end of the couch with Reggie curled up next to me, her head on my shoulder and her hand resting on my chest.
This feels different. Domestic. Like something we do every Thursday night instead of something that just happened.
“Inconceivable!” comes from the TV, and Annalise giggles.
“He keeps saying that word,” she observes.
“I do not think it means what he thinks it means,” I quote along with the movie, and she dissolves into laughter.
“You’ve seen this before.”
“A few times.”
“How many is a few?”
“Maybe fifty.”
“Fifty?!”
“It’s a really good movie.”
“It’s his favorite,” Jaylen throws me under the bus without taking his eyes off the screen. “He told me when we were talking the other day.”
When did I tell him this was my favorite movie? Oh, right. Tuesday afternoon, when I stopped by to check on Nia and ended up throwing a ball around in the backyard with him for an hour. And somehow the conversation wandered from football, to movies, to books, to life in general.
“You two have been talking?” Reggie asks.
“Yeah,” Jaylen replies with a shrug. “Blayne knows a lot about sports.”
“Really?” We exchange a look and warm smiles.
“Yeah, Ma.”
I feel Reggie still looking up at me, but this time I keep my eyes on the screen. It’s easier than explaining how I’ve somehow become the person Jaylen comes to with questions about everything from football strategy to whether the girl in his math class actually likes him or is just being nice.
“You going to tryouts tomorrow?” I ask him.
“Yes.” He lights up. “Coach says I’ve got a good shot at starting varsity.”
“Nervous?” I ask with a reassuring grin.
“A little.” He shrugs.
“That’s normal. You got this.”
“But what if I screw up?”
“Then you learn from it and do better next time.”
“That’s what you said about the dance,” Annalise chimes in, turning her attention from the screen for a few seconds. “You said if we messed up, we’d just try again.”
“Same principle applies to everything, princess.”
On the TV, Westley is climbing the Cliffs of Insanity, and I feel Reggie’s fingers trace patterns on my chest. It’s absent-minded, the kind of touch that happens when you’re comfortable with someone, when touching them is as natural as breathing. Life is good. Fucking perfect.
“This is nice,” she says quietly, so only I can hear.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Feels like…” She trails off.
“Like what?”
“Like home.”
The simple word hits me square in the chest. Home. Not her home or mine, but just… home. The place where you belong, where you’re wanted, where people save you a spot on the couch and argue with you about movies and ask your opinion on things that matter. Ours.
I’ve never had that before. Never had a place where I fit so completely that it felt natural, inevitable.
Not since I left the Silver Creek Ranch.
And I always knew that was temporary. As amazing and welcoming as Andy and everyone else were after I left the army and found my way there, I always knew I’d come back West. Even if all I knew here before was foster care and group homes.
But sitting here with Reggie’s head on my shoulder and her kids scattered around the room, watching a movie I’ve seen too many times to count, and enjoying every minute of it… this truly does feel like home.
“My name is Inigo Montoya,” comes from the screen. “You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
“This is the best part,” I whisper.
“Better than the sword fighting?” Jaylen asks.
“Different. This is justice. The other was just showing off.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Inigo’s fighting for something that matters to him. The Man in Black was just proving he could.”
“But he was trying to save the princess,” Annalise points out.
“True. So maybe they’re both fighting for something that matters.”
“Like you did,” Nia says quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“The other day. When you came to get me. You were fighting for something that matters.”
“I wasn’t fighting anyone.”
“Not with swords. But you fought the paperwork, the insurance people, and all the stuff that was trying to keep you from taking care of me.”
I swallow with difficulty, feeling my eyes prickle.
I don’t know what to say to that. She’s right, in a way.
I did fight. Fought every instinct that said I wasn’t qualified to handle a medical emergency with someone else’s kid, fought the voice in my head that said I was in over my head, fought the system that wanted to make everything complicated when all I wanted was to make sure she was okay.
“That’s different,” I say finally.
“How?”
“Because you’re…” I stop, realizing what I was about to say. Because you’re mine. Because all of you are mine, and I’ll fight anyone and anything that tries to hurt you.
But I can’t say that. Not yet.
“Because you matter,” I say instead.
“We all matter to you,” Annalise jumps in with the confidence of a six-year-old who’s never doubted her place in the world. “Right?”
“Right.”
“Good. Because you matter to us too.”
And just like that, this little girl has said what none of the adults in the room have been brave enough to say. We matter to each other. This thing between us, goes both ways.
By the time the credits roll, Annalise is asleep on the floor, curled up with her stuffed elephant. Nia’s dozed off on the couch, her head tilted back against the cushions. Jaylen’s trying to pretend he’s not tired, but his eyelids are heavy.
“Bedtime,” Reggie announces softly.
“Do we have to?” Jaylen asks.
“Yes. You’ve got tryouts tomorrow, and you need sleep.”
“Will you be here tomorrow?” Annalise asks me as Reggie helps her gather up her stuffed animals.
“Do you want me to be here?”
“Yes. I want to hear about Jaylen’s tryouts. And Nia might need help with her homework.”
“I don’t need help with homework,” Nia protests, but she’s smiling.
“I’ll be here,” I tell Annalise with a smile and a wink.
“Promise?”
“Promise.” I brush her hair back.
Reggie gets the kids settled for bed while I’m tidying the living room. Folding blankets, putting the empty popcorn bowls in the kitchen, turning off the TV. House stuff that feels natural. When did I start thinking of this as my space to take care of?
Reggie comes back a few minutes later to find me loading the dishwasher.
She protests, coming my way, “Blayne, you don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind.” I look up, giving her a small smile.
“I know, but…”
“Reggie.” I turn to face her, taking in her tired eyes and soft smile. “I want to do it.”
“Why?” she insists, still grinning.
“Because.” I raise both eyebrows playfully.
“Very eloquent answer, Mr. Madison.”
She laughs, and the sound is warm and makes me want to pull her into my arms and never let go.
“Come here,” I say.
She steps into my space, and I wipe my hands before wrapping my arms around her, pulling her against my chest. She instantly melts into me, her arms going around my waist, her face pressed against my shoulder.
“Thank you,” she says.
“For what?”
“For tonight. For being here. For caring about us the way you do.”
“Thank you for letting me.”
We stand in her kitchen, holding each other in the quiet aftermath of a perfect evening, and I know I don’t want to go home. Don’t want to leave this warmth, this sense of belonging, this feeling that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“Stay,” she says softly, like she’s reading my mind.
“The kids…”
“Are asleep. And they’re getting used to you being here.”
“Reggie…”
“Stay. Please. I don’t want you to go.”
So I stay. And when we finally make it to her bedroom, it’s not just about sex. It’s about holding her while she sleeps, about waking up to the sound of her kids getting ready for school, about feeling like I belong in this life she’s built. It’s about being home.
* * *
I’m holding her in my arms in the middle of the night, my face buried in her hair, her soft, warm body relaxed into mine. Surrounded by her scent, her tenderness. Her fingers gently threading through my hair. And my heart cracks wide open.
“Lost some guys overseas. Good men. Brothers.” The words come out rusty.
“Came back fucked up. Angry. Couldn’t settle.
” Reggie’s hand squeezes mine. “This friend, Andy…he runs a ranch. For vets. Gives us work, purpose. Time to get our heads straight.” I force myself to keep going.
“Saved my life, probably. Definitely saved my soul.” She’s just listening, holding me, pressing herself deeper into my embrace.
And I don’t know how I’ll ever let this woman go…