Unbroken Rules (Rules 3)

“Oh.” She flushes. “Good.”

I sit on the edge of the bed.

“Where do you want me to sleep?”

Okay, this one is for my ego.

“I’d make you a bed on the floor, but we’re all out of blankets so… with me? Is that okay?”

I almost laugh. Is that okay? Is that okay?

“It’s fine.”

“Thanks. I know it means a lot to Jay.”

I frown. “Jay wanted me to stay?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t know that we broke up yet and… He seemed so happy to see you at the hospital. I just… I couldn’t tell him. And he could use the familiar face. He trusts you, you know?”

He trusts me.

But she doesn’t.

“I’m sorry. I’ll tell him that we broke up soon.”

Her words sting the hell out of me. I’d rather think that she’s the one who wanted me to stay, but I don’t care. I’m here. That’s all that matters.

“How are you feeling?” I remove my shirt, the way I always do before I go to bed, and toss it. I catch her gawking at me from the corner of my eye and smirk. Still got it. I decide to keep my pants on for now. Don’t want her to be uncomfortable.

“Dead inside, but what’s new?” She slides under the covers and buries her face in the pillow with a groan.

I laugh quietly and get in bed next to her. “He’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” she counters.

I stretch my arm out and turn off the lamp. Darkness fills the room. Her back is facing me, but the moonlight outlines her perfect silhouette, the curve of her ass.

Hormones, shut the fuck up.

“It’s called hope,” I whisper, and she rolls over to look at me. “Hey, listen, I thought maybe we could finish what we started at Vic’s. I never got to tell you… you know, everything.”

Her response is immediate. “I can’t do this.”

“But—”

“You don’t get it. I physically can’t. Not tonight, okay?” Her voice is faint, weak.

I nod. Guess I can forget about playing her the recording while I’m at it. Her eyes connect with mine, and something shifts in her gaze.

“Can you just hold me?” she croaks.

When tears start pouring down her face, I don’t think, I just act. I ease my arms around her shoulders and let her cry. When she trembles against my chest, I want to believe that she needs me as much as I need her. She’s been through hell today. There’s a chance she’ll never speak to her father again, and it’s just starting to sink in.

“This doesn’t change anything, okay?” She sniffles.

My heart twists.

I play with her hair. “Okay.”