Unbroken Rules (Rules 3)

I’m such a whipped little bitch.

“I really should go.” I shake my head, inwardly cursing my lack of judgment, and walk to the door.

“Don’t,” she yelps.

I stop.

“Please, stay. Please.” she begs.

Just the alcohol talking, Haze. Not really how she feels.

I glance at her over my shoulder. “You’re going to wake up tomorrow and want me to leave.”

“No, I won’t.” She shakes her head. “I promise, I won’t. Just stay, please. I don’t want to spend another night without you. Not again. Not ever.”

How I wish she could wake up sober and still mean that.

“You hate me,” I remind her.

With sad eyes, she says, “Almost as much as I love you.”

Her words rip me open.

Then piece me back together.

Then tear me apart once more.

I didn’t know how bad I needed that confirmation until now. To hear her say that she still loves me. That there’s still hope. I get my coat off, walk over to the bed, and slip under the blanket. She snuggles up to me, resting her head on my chest and nuzzling her nose in my neck. This feels so different. So fragile. I extend my arm around her and stroke her shoulder.

“Good night, Haze,” she murmurs.

And in that moment,

For a brief instant, the tiniest, fleetest of seconds,

It feels like we’re okay and I’ll see her smiling at me in the morning.

19

Risks

“What the actual fuck?” A voice wakes me up. A female voice, to be exact. Forcing my eyes open, I grimace at the light of day. Allie is standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. Not going to lie, she looks like hell. Her hair is all over the place, and her makeup is smudged down her cheeks. Winter isn’t the only one who got hammered last night.

Winter.

My eyes drift to her. To her body next to mine. She’s still sleeping.

“Good morning,” I say coarsely.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, quietly this time.

I rub my eyes. “I called Winter last night. She was blackout drunk and all alone. I picked her up and brought her home.”

“Tell me you didn’t sleep with her when she was drunk, Haze?” She zeroes in on my bare chest. I tossed my shirt sometime during the night.

“What? Of course not.”

The irony isn’t lost on me.