Unbroken Rules (Rules 3)

I can’t restrain a laugh. “Relax, we didn’t do it on the table.” I put out his panic before it flares into a wildfire. He nods faintly, not entirely convinced, and gets up to put his dishes away.

“Can I sit on the couch?”

“It’s a couch. That’s kind of the whole purpose,” I mock.

“No, I mean, is it clean? I don’t want to sit somewhere you and Haze fucked last night.”

My lips flatten.

“Oh my God! Seriously?” he snarls. “Where can I sit, then? The carpet?”

A small grin remolds my lips.

“Are you serious? The floor, too? What’s wrong with you people? Are there any places you haven’t had sex?”

I actually have to stop and think about it. We did it a lot last night—like, a lot.

“The balcony?” I try a joke, but Kendrick is not amused.

“Screw it. I’m going to my room. I can assume you guys never had sex in my bed?”

I pretend to hesitate, triggering his anger. He starts to fume, making me laugh out loud.

He’s scandalized. “You freaks! I slept in that.”

“I’m kidding.” I throw my hands up. “We never had sex in your bed.”

Kendrick exhales in relief and carries on down the hall.

“If it makes you feel any better, we tried to clean after,” I call. “Kind of.”

“Clean? Clean?” He scoffs. “Gimme gallons of holy water, then maybe I’ll sit on that couch again.”

I watch him slam his bedroom door with a laugh. My eyes dart to the time on the stove. Crap, I’m late. I’ll have to skip the shower this morning. My dad may be getting released today.

I doubt he’ll want to move back in with Lauren. There’s so much we’ve yet to figure out. He wants a divorce from Cruella, but he needs constant help and supervision until he heals completely. The doctor said he’ll be in a wheelchair until his leg heals. Not to mention it should take him four months to recover from it all. He can’t just slide back into his routine overnight. He called his insurance company and found out he doesn’t have access to at-home care, which is another problem we’ll have to tackle as soon as possible. There’s no way to fix this mess, no glue strong enough to piece our broken family back together. Someone’s going to have to take care of Mai and Jay. It goes without saying that someone will most likely be me. Now that I’m a school dropout, I’ll have more time on my hands, but I also need to get a better job.

Since the house is under my father’s name—pretty much everything is—I doubt Lauren will be allowed to stay there much longer. If it was up to my dad, I would’ve never moved out in the first place, so, safe to say that I’ll still move back in after he’s kicked Lauren out?

Drained, I sit on my bed and reach for my phone. I can’t stop thinking about Haze and how insane last night was. I hate that it was good—okay, I hate that it was the best.

Waze comes strolling in through my partially opened door and hops up next to me. His waving tail whooshes a piece of paper off the nightstand. God, I can’t believe Haze told me he loved me. I can’t believe he lied about something so important.

I frown at the crumpled note I didn’t notice before and bend over the side of my bed to scoop it up.

Haze’s handwriting.

Three words. Nothing else.

I meant it.

HAZE

I’ve never been a good liar. Even in my player days, I’d tell my booty calls what I wanted up front to avoid getting their hopes up. Yes, I was—am—an asshole, but I wasn’t liar. Now lying is all I fucking do.

Lie to the girl I love.

Lie to my only friend.