Читать книгу The Marked Men Series Books 1–6: Rule, Jet, Rome, Nash, Rowdy, Asa - Jay Crownover - Страница 17

I was having a hard time concentrating in my study group, which wasn’t a good thing because we were all expected to carry our own weight. I was pretty good with anatomy so I wasn’t too worried about falling behind, but I didn’t want anyone else to fall behind because I couldn’t keep my head in the game. Trying to find time to work in Rule with my already busy schedule was proving to be a daunting and frustrating task. In the last two weeks I had only managed to squeeze in two lunch dates when he had time between clients, a Friday night when he came to the bar with his friends and hung out with me until I got off, and a subsequent Saturday night that, of course, led to Sunday morning. I had to work, so Sunday was just a brief kiss good-bye and then I was on my way out the door. We talked on the phone and texted back and forth, but it wasn’t enough for me. Now that I was sleeping with him on a regular basis it wasn’t enough for the me who wanted nothing more than to roll around in bed with him every chance she got.

I was blushing at a particularly hot memory when one of the girls had to tap me on the shoulder to get my attention. I’m sure my face was bright red so I cleared my throat and fanned myself down with the notebook I was using to take notes. “Sorry, what did you ask?”

She repeated the question and I stumbled through an answer, telling myself I had to stay focused for the remaining hour of the session. My phone went off a couple times in my pocket but like a good college student I ignored it and gritted my teeth through the rest of the question-and-answer portion of the meeting. As soon as time was up, I gathered my things and bolted out of the room we were using for the meeting. It was rude but I didn’t even bother to say good-bye to my classmates. I wanted to see what was on my phone. Rule liked to send me dirty text messages when I least expected it. They made me get all breathless and silly and I couldn’t wait to see what these might read. Only the name on my phone wasn’t his, but Gabe’s, and that made me want to toss the little device onto the ground. My mom was still insisting on a family get-together; luckily her schedule was so busy that I had managed to avoid it and Gabe for the last few weeks, but from the sounds of the messages he had left me that was no longer the case.

Shaw, I spoke to your mother today. She would like me to bring you to Brookside on Saturday night for dinner at the club. She would like you to stay the night there and then we are doing a big gathering at her house on Sunday for brunch. My parents will be there along with several other influential people.

I groaned out loud and scrolled down to the next message.

I know you are hesitant to spend time alone with me after my erratic behavior, but I assure you, my intentions are good. All I’m offering is a ride.

I most definitely didn’t want to be stuck in a car with Gabe for an hour and I most certainly didn’t want to deal with my mother for an entire weekend. Plus, Saturday night had proven the one night a week I actually got to spend with Rule and I absolutely didn’t want to give that up, but I didn’t see where I had a choice. I bit my lip and replied that I would be there but that I would be driving myself. There was no way in hell I was going to Brookside without a way to escape. He texted back that that would be fine and asked if I would mind giving him a ride. I wanted to say no but figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to just take him and drop him off. We arranged to meet at a bakery that was between our two places on Saturday morning and I was just about to put the phone away when Black Rebel Motorcycle Club trilled from my hand. Rule’s sneering face looked up at me from the display and I couldn’t hold in a smile.

Ayden warned me every single day that I had to be careful. I was in love with Rule; Rule wasn’t in love with me. We were having sex, really amazing, make-the-world-stop sex, but he never, ever mentioned anything about a relationship or how he felt. My roommate was sure I was standing on the cliff of an epic heartbreak, just waiting to fall over. For now I was okay taking what he was willing to give—I mean, it was more than he had ever given to anybody else—but in the back of my mind I knew it wouldn’t be enough forever, and eventually something between us was going to have to change, or at the very least, be defined into clearer terms that I could live with.

“Hey, you, I thought you were working late tonight,” I said.

“I am. I’m also starving and wondering if you’ve eaten yet.”

“No. I just got out of my study group and have to go work on a project for my anatomy class.”

“Is it something you can do here?”

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and stepped gingerly across the icy parking lot. “At the shop?”

“Yeah. We have Wi-Fi and it’s just me and my client so it’s quiet. You can grab some food and then work here for a couple hours until I’m done. We can go back to my place later if you want.”

I so totally did want. I bit my lip and got into my car. “Are you sure you can work with me hanging around? I mean, I don’t want to distract you or anything.”

He gave a soft laugh that sent goose bumps running up and down my arms.

“While you are quite a distraction, Casper, my client is a fifty-five-year-old retired homicide detective who would gladly wring my neck if I screw his piece up. It’s a memorial tattoo in honor of his son who died in Afghanistan. Feed me so that I can do a good job and not get my ass kicked.”

I laughed and clamped the phone between my shoulder and ear. I hadn’t ever been in Rule’s shop. That seemed like a line that our previous relationship didn’t cross, but I had to admit I was curious to see what the inside of a real tattoo parlor looked like. “What do you want me to bring you?”

“I don’t care. I’m not picky, just make sure there is a lot of whatever it is.”

“All right, I’m still at the school so give me a half hour or so.”

“Cool.”

He hung up without saying good-bye, something that drove me nuts because he always did it, but I was learning that he had a lot of weird quirks that I’d never noticed before. There was a lot I was learning about him, things that I had missed over the years that surprised me, like the fact that he was such a good friend. I had seen him interact with Rome and Remy so I knew he was giving and loving to those he cared about, but he was the same way with his boys. Nash and Rule were most definitely a team. When one zigged the other zagged instinctively. They lived in sync, worked in sync, and it was clear to see that they just got each other, and as high maintenance and complicated as Rule was I had to admit it was fascinating to watch. They made each other laugh and made each other mad. Rule was kind of a slob and Nash was a neat freak, but they took care of each other in different ways. Nash tended to be quieter and let things slide—like the jerk across the street taking his parking spot even though it was snowy and cold, didn’t bother him enough to make a fuss—but Rule was a born fighter, a hothead who refused to let anything ride. The guy in Nash’s spot came out to find an elaborate scene of a big purple dinosaur getting head from what looked to be a perverted Yoda on the hood of his car in washable paint. Sure he was furious and wanted to call the cops, but Nash had talked him out of it by pointing out that he could have had the car impounded, which would cost more than a trip to the car wash. It showed how the boys just balanced each other out.

I decided on Chinese because I could grab a decent variety of things and I love sesame chicken. There was a line and I had to wait for what seemed like an eternity to get it. It was closer to an hour by the time I found the shop and a place to park that wouldn’t take me an hour to walk there. Parking on Capitol Hill was a nightmare and walking on the crowded sidewalk with bags full of takeout and my laptop case proved to be an interesting challenge, but I made it, and the glass door painted with an interesting mélange of old-school sailor tattoos swung open before I had to figure out what to juggle in my full hands in order to pull it open. Rule took the food from me, pressed a quick, hard kiss on my startled mouth, and ushered me into the tattoo parlor. He flipped the sign on the door to closed and guided me past a long marble counter that had a series of portfolios laid out across it and a massive high-tech computer system propped up on top.

Each of the workstations was divided by a waist-high wall and a mounted flat-screen TV. Everything was bright and shiny clean, and there was a myriad of different artwork and all kinds of interesting old-school tattoo designs for people to choose from plastering the available wall space. It was visually stimulating and there was old Bad Religion playing quietly on the house sound system. It was all very Rule, as if he had found a place to work that completely and totally embodied who he was as a person, and that was just really special to see. He led me to a back room that had a table and couch as well as a mini fridge and a bunch of different stations that had drafting tables and special lights for artists to use. Sitting at the table was a middle-aged man who could have easily been one of my father’s golf buddies, except for the fact that he had his shirt off and the entire center of his chest was covered not in gray hair but a stark black outline of a bald eagle and an American flag.

Rule dumped the bags on the table and began digging through them. “Shaw, this is Mark Bradley, Mark this is Shaw. I hope you don’t mind if she sticks around for a bit since she was nice enough to bring us dinner.”

He started dishing stuff out onto plates that he pulled out of nowhere. “Sure thing. I didn’t know you went out and got yourself a girl, Rule. A pretty one at that.”

Rule winked at me over the guy’s head and handed me a loaded plate that I probably wouldn’t even put a small dent in. “She sure is that.”

We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes but I kept checking out the bold outline on Mark’s chest. It was huge and seemed like such a massive commitment for someone in his fifties to be making.

“That piece is pretty impressive,” I said between bites.

He looked down at himself and then back up at Rule. “The kid has real talent. I looked all over town to find someone who would do what I wanted justice. Rule got it right away, and it didn’t hurt that his brother is enlisted, so he understood the importance behind it all.”

“He mentioned it was a memorial piece for your son.”

“Unfortunately. Roadside bomb a few years ago. He was my oldest and nothing else seemed an appropriate way to honor how proud I am to be his father.”

I felt tears well in my eyes. I was so used to parents being too thoughtless or lost in their own grief to really express their heartache in a healthy way. I reached out and squeezed the older man’s hand while blinking away the moisture gathered in my eyes.

“I think that is beautiful.”

“My kid was a sucker for a good old-school tattoo. I gave him crap every time he came home with something new. It would tickle him pink that this was the way I chose to keep his memory alive.”

“You’ll be finished with it today?” I asked Rule, who was eating while standing up and watching the interplay between me and his client intently.

“No. Something that big takes a few sessions. Today we’ll hammer in the rest of the solid black and the gray, get some of the highlights and all the shading done. His next sitting will only be an hour or so and I’ll get the color in it. It’s going to be classic when it’s all done.”

We finished eating and I offered to clean up the mess while Rule went out to set up for Mark. I had just finished cleaning up and was pulling out my computer and books to set up in the back room when Rule poked his head into the room and crooked his finger at me. “Come out here and post up in one of the empty stations.”

“I don’t want to be in the way.”

“Come on, Casper, you make the view better.”

I rolled my eyes at him and moved to set up across from him. I settled into the surprisingly comfy chair and propped my computer on my lap. The music switched to a song by The Gaslight Anthem and I hummed along.

“What are you studying?”

I glanced up at Mark, who was making an interesting face as Rule bent over him, the constant buzz of the tattoo machine surprisingly lulling and comforting.

“I want to be a doctor. I would eventually like to work in emergency medicine.”

“That’s a pretty big goal. Why emergency medicine?”

I pulled my hair up into a sloppy knot on the top of my head. “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor. My dad is a heart surgeon, but I lost a really close friend a few years ago in a horrific car accident, and I guess I felt like maybe if he had had better care when he got to ER he would have made it. I want to make a difference when it matters most.”

Rule looked up and we stared at each other for a long moment before he put his head down and went back to what he was doing. Mark grunted. “That’s a pretty special girl you got there, kid. You better be doing right by her.”

He muttered something I didn’t hear and I turned my attention to the project I still had a bunch of work left to do on. I typed away and the machine buzzed for a solid two hours. We didn’t really talk much—me because I was working and subtly watching Rule; Mark, because as time went on it was clear he was hurting; and Rule, because when he worked he was focused solely on what he was doing and it was extraordinary to watch. He was actually putting a little bit of himself into what he was leaving on Mark and he wouldn’t settle for less than a perfect end product. I think watching him work, watching him diligently change this man’s body forever, made me fall just a little bit harder for him.

Mark had to take a couple breaks, and each time he got up, Rule made his way over to me. The first time he dropped a kiss on the top of my head. The second time he pulled me into a full-body make-out session that had me readjusting my shirt when Mark came back inside from smoking a cigarette. All in all it was a pretty nice way to spend an evening and I got plenty of work done. Four hours later Rule was wiping smears of black ink off Mark’s angry red skin, and the image he had on his chest was a beautifully etched tattoo that was an honorable tribute to his fallen son. I told him again how beautiful I thought it was and that I would love to see it when it was all done, and he gave me a hug like a real dad would and told me to take care of myself. He also paid Rule, which made me balk. I had no idea how much getting tattooed cost and then he left him a gigantic tip on top of it.

Rule told me to pack up and then went about cleaning up his station and shutting the shop down for the night. It took us another hour to finally leave, and by then I was yawning and getting sleepy. My car was close enough that I decided to just leave it and not try for a spot closer to their apartment, and Rule promised to get up early in the morning and take me to it if I wanted. The walk was fast because it was cold; it helped that he pulled me close the entire way.

When we got back to his place, we said hi to Nash. I thought maybe Rule wanted to sit for a second and chat but he dropped my stuff on the coffee table, grabbed a couple beers out of the fridge, and hauled me into his room.

We didn’t talk, didn’t seem to need to. By now I was getting the hang of how the whole sex thing, or rather the whole sex-with-Rule thing, worked. He was very tactile, very hands-on, and I benefited from all of it. After rolling around not once but twice I was quite happily sprawled across his naked chest randomly tracing the scales of the snake on the arm next to my face. He was propped up on a pillow, drinking one of the beers and messing around on his phone while drawing some kind of pattern on my back with his finger. I was sated and almost asleep when his voice rattled through my head.

“Want to come to another show with me on Saturday? I tattoo one of the guys in Artifice and I got backstage passes.”

I let my eyes snap open and went stiff, which he was bound to feel since I was using him as a body pillow. I pushed my hair out of my face and looked up at him. His eyes were droopy and sleepy as well, but I saw that he really wanted to know what my answer was. I gulped a little and bit down on my lip like I did when I was nervous.

“I have to go to my mother’s for the weekend. I’m leaving on Saturday and won’t be back until sometime Sunday afternoon.”

Now he was the one who went stiff underneath me. “You going alone?”

“No.” My voice was barely a whisper. “I told Gabe I would drop him off at his parents’ on the way.”

“You told the guy who has been stalking you and harassing you that you would give him a ride?” The incredulous tone made me nervous.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because it was easier than dealing with the guilt trip and endless amounts of disappointment my mom would throw at me if I didn’t. You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly. Your mom says jump and you do it right into that nut job’s arms. I can’t believe this, Shaw. I barely get to see you as it is. I go freaking insane half the time because I wake up in the middle of the night to reach for you and you aren’t there, and now you’re off planning a weekend getaway with your psycho ex-boyfriend. Unbelievable.”

I rolled off him and pulled the sheet up around myself, feeling exposed and vulnerable, neither having to do with the fact I was naked. “It isn’t like that and you know it. I don’t want to go, don’t want to spend time with Gabe, but letting my mother have her way is easier than trying to defy her.”

“How would you know? Have you ever even tried to defy her?”

I sucked a cold breath in through my teeth. “She’s my mom, Rule.”

“Whatever. We can talk about it tomorrow.” He rolled onto his side away from me and I knew Rule well enough to know that there would be no talking about it tomorrow.

In fact, as he dropped me off at my car the next morning there was zero talking, zero kissing, zero eye contact, zero anything from him to indicate that a conversation could fix what I had somehow done.

I texted him after work the next day that I was sorry and I wanted to see him, but he didn’t respond. I called him on Tuesday to see if he wanted to get lunch and talk about things and was sent right to voice mail. By Wednesday I was practically frantic and ready to show up at the shop or at his apartment and demand that he talk to me, but Rome was back in town and commandeered me for dinner. He let it slip that he was crashing at Rule’s for a few days because his other buddy had family in town for the week. My heart nearly devoured itself when I realized Rule hadn’t even bothered to let me know Rome was in town. I very well could have shown up and made a complete ass out of myself in front of his brother and he didn’t even care.

I spent Thursday and Friday sobbing onto Ayden’s mostly unsympathetic shoulder and tried to get through my shifts at work. I was a mess on Saturday morning when I stopped at the bakery to get Gabe and all I wanted to do was run his smug, smiling face over with my BMW.

He tried to lean in to kiss me on the cheek and I pulled away so violently I smacked my head on the driver’s-side window.

“Don’t.” I could almost see the icicles hanging on my voice but I didn’t care. I missed Rule, was mad that I was having to pick between him and yet another family, and pissed that he couldn’t see why I had to do what I did. All week long I had been plagued with visions of his room turning back into a revolving door of sexual conquests and it made me hyperventilate. I could see why he was angry at me, but I hated that he was just shutting me out.

“Come on, Shaw, can’t you at least try to make this weekend pleasant? Our parents would be thrilled if we could just work things out between us.”

I turned the radio on and let Georgia rock from the Drive-By Truckers fill in the void where my conversation should go. I slapped Gabe’s hand away when he reached for the volume control. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Come on, Shaw, we need to talk.”

“No.”

“Stop being so stubborn.”

“Gabe, I’m involved with someone else. There is nothing we need to talk about. The only reason I’m going this weekend is to get my mom off my back.”

“That tattooed punk? You can’t think you have anything serious with him, Shaw. Seriously what are you thinking? You’re going to come home after a seventy-two-hour shift at a hospital and he’s just going to be sitting around waiting for you like some kind of house husband? You really think that’s an accurate description of how your future looks with someone like that? More like you start your residency and as soon as he sees how much you’re gone and how much time he has to spend alone he starts bringing all those girls that were there before you back around. Get real. Guys like that are not in it for the long haul, they’re only there until the shine wears off.”

I bristled because it was hitting a little too close to home for me right now so I just turned the music up louder and did my best to ignore him for the rest of the ride. I made great time, driving faster than I should have but desperate to get out of the confined space with Gabe. He had tried several times to pull me into conversation but each time I upped the volume on the radio until the Truckers were at an ear-splitting level, making it ridiculous to try to talk. He finally got the point and zipped his mouth shut. I practically shoved him out the door without stopping when I got to his house in Brookside. He motioned for me to roll the window down so he could talk to me, but I just gritted my teeth and pulled away with squealing tires.

My parents lived in another gated community in Brookside so as I tooled through town I decided to stop at the Starbucks where I had taken Rule last time I was here and pull myself together. Just to torture myself even further I pulled out my phone and died a little more when it showed no new messages or texts. I didn’t know what to do and I felt like everything I had ever wanted was slipping right through my fingers.

“Shaw? Shaw Landon, is that you?” I looked up from my coffee and stifled a groan as Amy Rodgers barreled down on me. I should have remembered her and this Starbucks went hand in hand.

“It sure is, Amy. How are you?”

She air-kissed my face and gave me a toothy smile. She had never even pretended to be this nice to me in high school, so I was instantly on high alert.

“Oh, I’m good. I just finished beauty school and I’m working in a super trendy, super high-end salon in Denver. You’re living there now, too, right?”

I nodded and I saw her eyes trail over my new and improved hair. “Well, I’m excited I ran into you. I was thinking about looking you up.”

I lifted a brow. “Why?”

She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I was home a few weekends ago doing laundry and I ran into one of the Archer twins, the one with all the tattoos. Anyway, I remembered that you were close with them and I was wondering if I could get his number from you. I can’t remember which one is which, but lordy was he gorgeous. I heard they moved to Denver, too, and I was hoping I might be able to start something up with him.”

I felt everything inside me turn to ice. I almost threw my coffee in her pretty, perfect face but just barely, by the skin of my teeth, managed to restrain myself.

“Remy died, Amy. It’s just Rule, has only been Rule for almost three years now, and I’m sure he would just looooove to hear from some idiot girl who didn’t even know who he was, just one of the Archer twins. You make me want to vomit, and you’re lucky we’re in a public place or there’s a really good chance I would be punching you repeatedly in the face right now.”

She gaped at me in astonishment as I pushed past her and tossed my coffee in the trash, all taste for it gone. “I’m not giving you his number because he’s mine and if you get anywhere near him I swear to God the things I’ll do to you will be chronicled on Investigation Discovery for years to come.”

I was shaking by the time I got back in the car and it only took a second for the tears to come. I missed Remy, I missed Rule, and I missed Margot and Dale. Rule was right; I didn’t know what it felt like to defy my mother because I never had and now she was just one more person trying to get between me and the person I wanted to be with. I had no trouble laying claim to him with a bimbo like Amy, but my mother, well that was a far bigger fish to fry. I had always known he was worth it—that’s what I was waiting so desperately for his parents to see, but when the time had come to prove it I had done what everyone else did to him and let my mother pressure me into doing something that moved me away from him. I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel and picked my phone back up. I stared at it for a solid five minutes with the car running, trying to think of what to say to him and all I came up with was:

I really am sorry; I never meant to hurt you. I should’ve stayed. I really miss you.

I put it away before I made myself crazy seeing if he was going to text anything back and made my way to my parents’ house. The house was more like some kind of elegant mountain chalet than an actual home. Everything past the gates was elegant and expensive, and as I parked and made my way to the front door I remembered how small I felt next to the grandeur. When Remy had come into my life and taken me under his wing, I had taken the opportunity to spend every second I could at the Archers’. For all their faults, they made a home where it was clear people were loved and cared for. Both my mother’s and my father’s homes had none of that; they were filled with servants and showpieces. As I was led into the living room I was struck again by how very much I didn’t want to be here and how if I couldn’t fix things with Rule after this weekend there was a good chance I was going to have to be committed because I just might lose my mind.

My mother in all her refined glory came at me with a critical eye. There was no hug, no “how was your drive?” no “sorry I missed your birthday, sweetie,” just a quick sweep of her ice-cold gaze from the top of my head to the toes of my laced-up leather boots. Her already tight mouth pulled into a frown. “What have you done to your hair, Shaw? It looks dreadful and I hope you brought more appropriate clothes for the country club. We’re going to dinner, not a potluck.”

I was wearing leggings and a long oxford with a wide leather belt that matched my boots. It was way too fancy for a simple car ride home but I had been trying to avoid this exact scene. Once again I had failed to meet her exacting standards. My hands curled tighter around the bag I had refused to give to the maid who’d opened the door. My heart was in my throat—well, actually it was back in Denver currently ignoring me, but that was neither here nor there.

“I assume you and Gabe had time to talk on the way up here?”

“Not really. I’ve told you I don’t have anything left to say to him.”

If it were possible, her mouth pulled into an even tighter frown—she looked like she was sucking on a lemon. My mother was a beautiful woman—I got my fair hair and light coloring from her—but as I looked at her objectively, for possibly the first time in my life, I realized that all that beauty was harsh and encased in so much ice and bitterness that it was hard to see.

“I asked you to stop being ridiculous, young lady. You will be polite and charming this weekend. I will not tolerate any hostility or rudeness directed at Gabe or any of the Davenports, do you understand me?”

From somewhere deep inside me the Shaw that I was when I was with Rule, the Shaw that should have refused to come on this farce of a weekend, raised her head. I flicked the ends of my two-toned hair over my shoulder and brushed past my mother to head to the stairs where my room was located. “You ordered me to be here, Mother, so now you have to deal with that whether you like the outcome or not.” She called something after me in a shrill voice but I tuned her out, calling over my shoulder, “Let me know when you’re ready to leave for dinner.”

I shut the door to the room that had never really felt like mine and let my bag drop on the floor. My mother’s interior designer had done the room in a palette of grays and soft pinks. It was all very lovely, feminine and girly to the max with a million frilly pillows on the bed and even a lacy canopy draped over the white four-poster bed. It was the room a person who wanted to sleep in luxury and be surrounded by million-thread-count sheets would enjoy; for me it had always felt lifeless and dull. There were no personal pictures, no splashes of color, no TV or radio—simply nothing to describe a thing about the person who was supposed to live there. I settled cross-legged on the center of the big bed and sent Ayden a text. She had been acting a little weird since the night she had let Jet take her home from the bar, but she didn’t want to talk about it, and since I was having my own boy drama I didn’t want to fight to drag it out of her.

Wasn’t even in the door two steps before she mentioned my hair and my outfit. So good to be home

That sucks, honey.

Yeah and Rule still won’t text me back.

Ummm …

What?

I don’t know if I should tell you.

Tell me what?

You have to promise not to freak out.

Well now I’m bound to freak out!

Loren was talking about being out last night; she said she saw Rule and the boys at whatever club she was at.

Oh my God …

Yeah, well she mentioned she was going to try to talk to him or whatever because she’s a clueless slut, but he had some redhead hanging all over him. She said she couldn’t even get close to him.

Fuck.

Yeah, well, she also said he left with her, the redhead, I mean. She said the whole gang of them left together and she is a heinous gossip and likes to cause trouble but I figure you should have a heads-up since you can’t get a hold of him.

Thanks.

You okay?

No, not at all.

Want me to hurt him for you?

Maybe. I’ll call you later after I get through this stupid dinner. Love ya, girl.

You, too. xoxo

I swiped a finger across the screen and took a second to hold my breath before letting it out in a furious screech and chucking the expensive device against the wall with a satisfying crunch. I buried my head in my hands and tried to keep from throwing up. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I had had everything I ever wanted for just a few seconds and all it took was one single bump, one tiny disagreement, to screw it all up. It shouldn’t hurt that I was so easily and quickly replaced. I knew Rule, knew how he operated, but I still felt like someone was poking holes in the very fiber of my soul with a scalding-hot poker. Being in love with Rule had never been an easy thing to do, and now that I knew what it was like to actually love him I wasn’t sure how to go back to before.

I spent the rest of the afternoon sequestered in my room. My mother sent one of the staff up to see if I wanted lunch but I refused to answer the door when they knocked. She sent her husband up around five to tell me that we were leaving in an hour for the club, and while a big part of me wanted nothing more than to wear skinny jeans and my motorcycle boots, I decided that having that fight with my mother in front of my half siblings would just make me seem childish and ridiculous, so I put on a long-sleeved white and purple A-line dress that hit me a few inches above my knees and spent a few minutes flat-ironing my hair so that it fell in a slick curtain around my shoulders. I had a pair of purple booties that had spiked heels and little studs on the back that completed the look. It wasn’t exactly picture-perfect country club gear, but it should get me through the front door without too much trouble.

My mother gave me the evil eye as I came down the stairs, and Jack helped me into my gray pea coat. No one said anything as we piled into the family Escalade and headed to the country club. The kids jibber jabbered back and forth and I brooded about Rule and some unknown redhead, hoping it didn’t mean what I thought it did and willed the car to get a flat tire so I could avoid Gabe and his family. It didn’t happen, and when we got to the club and I had to force a smile and let Gabe kiss my cheek and pull out my chair, it literally took every single ounce of willpower I had not to run screaming in the other direction. I settled in between Gabe and my mother and prepared to suffer through the most awkward, awful dinner of my life.