20. The Fall
The Fall
“ T hat man loves you already, Rayna.”
Daddy’s words landed harder than I wanted to admit. He didn’t throw love around easy. Not after Mama.
I remembered those years after the divorce—Daddy trying to date, women drifting in and out like they were just visiting.
I never liked them much. Maybe that was loyalty to Mama, flimsy as it was.
On her weeks, I never mentioned Daddy’s company.
Part of me thought she might ask, but pride kept her mouth shut.
Eventually Mama started dating too, and I remember Daddy saying once, almost under his breath, Well, I guess that’s it.
Like he’d been holding out for her to come back.
That was the first time I realized he wasn’t all work and no play like Mama accused him of.
He had a heart—quiet, stubborn, waiting.
And now that same man was looking at me and saying he saw love in the way a man looked at me.
It scared me more than a little. Because if Daddy could see it—if he was bold enough to name it—then maybe it was real enough to stop running from.
Shawna and Mama told me to lead with my heart like it was simple. Like it wasn’t the very thing that ruined families. How’d that work out for most people? Divorce papers. Empty beds. Women crying into towels so their kids wouldn’t hear.
But when I thought of Quentin—his smile, his intelligence, those eyes behind his frames. The way he smelled when I pressed my face into his chest like I needed him to breathe for me—what I felt wasn’t ruin. It was love. Warmth. Everything I’d been running from.
And here I was, still trying to act like my life was just fine without him.
Liar.
My own voice hissed at me as I stepped out of the shower, steam curling off my shoulders. You barely like your life. You’ve been bored.
That was the moment I decided—I’d call him tomorrow. Invite him to Daddy’s house. Let him in more, even if it scared me.
Work that day was chaos—we were racing a deadline so the plumbing could go in. Daddy was on site, giving Jerome notes, checking our runs. He was in his element, and I felt proud just watching him. We even cracked jokes between jobs, but the lightness didn’t last.
I climbed the ladder with a coil of wire slung over my shoulder when it hit?—
A wave of dizziness. Fast. Brutal.
The whole room tilted.
My boot missed the rung and I slipped.
The weight slammed out of my arms, ladder rattling as I lost grip. The fall wasn’t far, but it stole the breath from my chest, knocked my skull into a jolt of white. By the time I blinked, I was flat on my back, dust swirling, Jerome hovering.
Daddy’s face loomed over me, his brown eyes wide and stricken like he’d just seen a coffin closing.
“Hospital,” he barked.
“No.” My voice was thin. I pushed up too fast, the world still spinning. “I’m fine.”
“The hell you are,” Daddy snapped, his voice raw with something I’d only heard once before—when Mama left.
But I wouldn’t go. Hardheaded as always. My pride felt heavier than my body.
Finally, Daddy shook his head, jaw tight. “Go home, Rayna. Now. I’ll finish the day. Don’t argue.”
I didn’t. My body ached, but my pride hurt the worst. And underneath both, something quieter, something I refused to name yet—like my body had just tried to tell me a truth I wasn’t ready to hear.
By the time I stretched out on the couch, the afternoon had sunk low.
My head throbbed, stomach unsettled, but I told myself it was nothing.
I wasn’t about to sit in an ER for hours just to hear the word dehydration.
I hadn’t been drinking enough water. That much was true, and Mama always told me that was a dangerous thing.
The knock came heavy, and certain. Quentin.
He stepped in before I could even lie. His eyes swept over me—messy hair, blanket half covering me, a sweating glass of water on the table—and landed on my face like he’d already read the whole story.
“Why didn’t you call me?” His voice was low with something deeper than anger.
I opened my mouth, ready to fuss, but he cut me off.
“Uncle Leon told me. He got my number from the tournament signup.” He ran a hand over his jaw, breath rough. “Rayna, you could’ve been hurt bad. You think I want to hear that secondhand?”
My chest tightened. I wanted to say I didn’t need babysitting, that this was just the job. But then he crouched down so we were eye to eye.
“When shit happens with you, Rayna… you can call your Daddy. Call your brother. But call me too.” His voice softened, his gaze pinning me in place. “I’m here for you. Let me be here.”
Something cracked open inside me, and the small part of myself I always kept tucked away split wide.
Tears burned hot and sudden. I pressed my lips together, furious at myself for being this soft, for letting him see me unravel.
But he reached anyway, pulling me into his arms. His heartbeat pounded under my ear, steady and present, his palm wide on my back like he wasn’t letting go.
I sank into it. Against every instinct to hold myself apart, I let him hold me. My chest shook, my eyes stung, and all I could think was: what the hell is happening to me?
I wasn’t the woman who cried in a man’s arms. I wasn’t the woman who leaned. I’d built my whole life on never needing anyone to catch me.
But Quentin didn’t just catch me—he refused to let me fall alone.
And maybe—just maybe—that was the scariest part.