Breaking the Rules: The Dating Playbook, Book: 2

by Dietz, Mariah

  Her jaw is set as I look to her for answers. “It’s fine.”

  I trace over the wound again with my eyes. “Will you stop telling me it’s all fucking fine.” My voice is quiet, because the words in my head are a plea, though, to my ears, it sounds like a demand.

  “It happened when I was cutting the net.”

  I empty my lungs in a long breath, pull her forward so her chest presses against mine, and wind one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist. Her arms go around me, and though her grip is loose, she doesn’t move away. I hold her for several seconds, breathing her in as I memorize the rhythm of her heart once again. It’s a tune I need to hear nearly as badly as I need to feel her—confirm her presence when her ghost has been my constant companion for the past couple of weeks.

  “I need my truck. I’ve got practice in the morning.”

  Raegan takes a step back as my arms slip free. She holds a hand out to me, waiting for my keys.

  “You got to be reckless. It’s my turn.”

  She shoves me, both hands against my chest with a surprising amount of strength that sends me backward several steps.

  “Don’t. I didn’t do it to hurt you.” She tries to glare at me, but her vulnerability is fracturing her anger. “You have no idea.” She shakes her head and starts to turn, but I catch her arm, forcing her to face me, knowing at the very least she owes me this truth as we hash out the broken and fractured details through a dozen different conversations that all rotate around the same single issue.

  “What? What do I have no idea about?”

  “Let’s go.”

  I release my grip, taking a step closer to her. “Tell me.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut and then slowly shakes her head. “I… No.”

  “You didn’t even look back.”

  “I couldn’t,” she fires. “I couldn’t talk to you because if I had, I wouldn’t have jumped, and then I’d have to live with myself knowing I let him die. I know that you guys think he’s just a dolphin, but it didn’t seem fair that his life was so inconsequential. Not when I’ve stood back and watched for so long and could finally make a difference.” Her chest sinks as she takes in a ragged breath. “I thought of you every single second. I fought for you. I cut off the damn drugs in the hospital because I was terrified I’d never see you again.”

  I lose myself in her words, in her truths, realizing for the first time, her guilt might rival my own.

  “I don’t trust myself around you,” I admit. Her blue eyes search mine, warmth setting in as she misinterprets my meaning. “I don’t trust you.”

  Her lips part like I’ve knocked the air out of her chest. “That’s the truth you want to exchange?”

  “It’s the only one that matters.”

  She turns, stalking toward the road, pulling me along behind her without a single touch. She seems to realize she doesn’t need my keys to drive my truck, going to the driver’s side door and opening it once I’m close enough that the fob reads, freeing the lock.

  Reagan pauses to take her cell phone out, her fingers racing across the screen for several seconds before she climbs inside and moves the seat forward. She sets her purse down, and a blue jewelry box falls open at her feet.

  I cringe, waiting for her to ask me about it.

  She leans forward to collect it, her eyes tracing over the gold chain and pearl pendant that’s been sitting in my truck for months. Then, without a word, she fishes for the lid and puts it back on before slipping it into the cup holder and starting the engine.

  We ride in silence, her confession swarming my thoughts until we stop in front of the house I share with Pax, Arlo, and Caleb.

  The silence is magnified as she cuts the engine, but before it can cross into uncomfortable, she swings her door open and hops out. The second her feet connect with the ground, she starts coughing. It’s a guttural sound that has her bending at the waist.

  I cross the front of the truck and place a hand on her shoulder, sure she’s going to pass out. Her lips form a small ‘O,’ and the coughing slows as she takes short breaths, her chest rising and falling in quick bursts as she reaches her hands above her head. She opens her eyes, looking at me with regret and shame before she closes them again, taking measured breaths as her skin fades from red.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Another product of my decision.”

  A car pulls into the driveway, the headlights so bright we both have to lift a hand to shield our eyes. She slowly takes another deep breath, as though testing that she can, then she takes out her phone, revealing the Lyft app. “There’s my ride.”

  “You just coughed up a lung. You should stay. Sit down.”

  “I’m fine,” she says. “If you’d been around, you’d realize it sounds way better than it did.”

  She twists the dagger by turning away, disappearing into the dark car.

  Once again, I don’t stop her.

  6

  Raegan

  Ag·o·ny

  /ˈaɡənē/

  noun

  Agony: Extreme mental or physical suffering.

  Synonyms: Saying good-bye.

  I pull my sweatshirt sleeves down, gripping the balled excess fabric I’ve repeatedly used as a tissue. Regardless of knowing this moment was coming, it hasn’t made it any easier to accept. Maggie’s blotchy cheeks and red nose aren’t helping either, the desire to comfort her warring with my own emotions that have been spilling down my face as I fear for lost time, her safety, and a tinge of selfishness about who I’ll talk to and confide in.

  I wasn’t even supposed to see her, and yet the time I wish to continue feels stolen. Invisible threads of fear and unshed tears wrap around my larynx, making my throat so tight it aches. It’s a miracle I’m not choking on another coughing fit.

  Dad pulls into the parking lot of the airport. It’s too soon. The thirty-minute drive felt like two seconds. My mouth grows hot, my eyes heavy with tears that blur my vision, and the lump in my throat becomes impossibly bigger. Maggie doesn’t move from her seat beside me in the back to unlatch her seat belt, pressing her lips together in a firm line though her chin shakes.

  Mom gets out first. She’s been crying all morning, and I know it’s only going to get worse. Paxton and Dad follow, going around to the trunk to start unloading the single suitcase and carry-on that Maggie’s taking with her for the next year. I try to swallow—attempt to gain some bit of composure, so Maggie doesn’t feel sadder or gather any doubts in these last few hours. She turns to me, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. She lifts her hands, gripping both sides of my face before the thin veil of self-control she was holding onto falls with a torrent of tears and a guttural sound that rips my heart back into my throat. I can’t breathe because if I do, I’m going to fall apart at the seams.

  I focus on the coolness of her touch against my hot and puffy cheeks, on my parents talking at the back of the car, discussing what time Maggie will be landing and the weather reports for her impending flight.

  “You’re going to kick ass at college.” She takes a deep breath, her fingers pressing into my cheeks. “I love you, and I am only a phone call away if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?” Her stare is more familiar than my reflection, and it’s filled with a thousand words and memories that seize my maturity and crush my heart. Maggie pulls me closer, holding me as I wrap my arms around her. Her shoulders bob, closely followed by her cries, the difficulty to breathe and find composure is again lost.

  After several long minutes, I pull back, wiping at my dampened cheeks with the wad of sweatshirt still balled in my hands. “Promise you’ll be safe and won’t try to fight every battle on your own?”

  She hiccups, using the box of tissues she’d packed to dry her face. “If you promise not to jump into the ocean alone.” Another tear falls, but she swipes it away. “I want to hear about your boy journal. Bad first dates and epic kisses that turn you inside out.” She nudges me. “But, don’t give up
on Lincoln. Not yet.”

  Currently, boys are in the very back of my thoughts, but I stick my pinky out anyways because I’ll gladly make up stories about guys if she sticks to her end of the bargain.

  Dad opens Maggie’s door. “Sorry, kiddos, but this plane is going to leave with or without you.”

  Tears tumble faster, spilling down my cheeks

  Maggie nods a couple of times, and then climbs out of the car, grabbing her purse and a small bag Mom and I arranged with some of her favorite things for the long flight.

  Grandpa and Camilla join us as we walk into the airport, where Paxton and Grandpa work to exchange bad jokes to lighten the mood as Maggie checks her bag. We take the short path to the security checkpoint, and I have to turn away as my family professes their love for one another because it hurts too badly to watch.

  Pax swallows me in a hug as Maggie disappears past security. He’s been aloof and absent lately, and I think much of it has been because, like me, he’s feeling too much. He and Candace broke up again, and between my accident and the impending date of Maggie leaving and his football schedule, I can feel his mental exhaustion with just a glance. His chest falls with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick.”

  My voice is too garbled to respond, so I hug him closer, reliant on his comfort and support.

  “Why don’t we head home? Order some Chinese food before Paxton has to leave for practice.” Mom rubs a hand across my shoulders, and the gesture makes me cry harder. While my mom’s hovered and fussed over every aspect of my life over the past couple of weeks, she’s been absent in all the ways that have mattered, never talking to me about anything other than how I’m feeling and where I’m going.

  Paxton’s breathing begins to shudder, and his arms wrap even tighter around my shoulders. He holds me until the pain in my chest stops threatening to destroy me, long enough that the tears dry in sticky paths down my cheeks, making my skin feel tight.

  “Can I borrow your car?” I ask Pax.

  “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  I shake my head. “I just need some time.”

  His jaw flexes when I finally look high enough to meet his gaze. “Rae…”

  “Please?” I ask, cutting him off.

  He digs into his pocket, dropping the small wad of keys into my palm.

  “I’ll be home soon,” I tell no one in particular, and then I set across the bright white tiles of the SeaTac airport, heading toward the parking lot.

  Paxton drives a manual, allowing me to shift and punch the clutch and gas pedals, to feel the gas inch higher with my speed.

  I drive until I reach the marina, parking and turning off the car, but I don’t move. I remain in the car, my brother’s cologne so strong I have to roll the window down.

  I stare out across the gravel lot, my eyes tight with the loss of so many tears, and my head throbbing with each beat of my heart. Outside, summer hangs on by a thread, the afternoon sun surprisingly warm in its direct path, beckoning me to roll the window down farther. Lacey clouds rove across the sky like they’re late for an important event, a cool breeze tugging them to go faster, tickling my neck with the promise of autumn.

  My phone beeps with a message that I glance down to read.

  Poppy: You okay? I got some Oreos and all the Drew Barrymore movies.

  Thoughts of Maggie and I binging the Harry Potter series while feasting on junk food and copious amounts of Dr. Pepper has my chest shuddering.

  Poppy: I love you, Rae. I’m here for you.

  I close my eyes, leaning my head back as tears stream down my temples. I know Poppy would be here for me, and part of me wants to reach out and rely on that knowledge—hole up in my room where we’ve spent countless nights lost in thoughts and dreams, heartaches and crushes, homework and ambitions. Yet, those four walls seem like a prison after the past couple of weeks.

  The crunch of gravel growing closer has me sitting up, turning to discover Lincoln, his truck parked behind me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need a friend after today. And probably some booze.”

  I close my eyes to make rejecting him easier. “We’re not friends.”

  He places both elbows on the opened window and squats so our faces are level. “I’m not convinced.”

  I pull in a breath and slowly open my eyes. “I’m in a shit mood. I’m not going to be good company.” I swipe at the damp trails across my face, keeping my attention directed anywhere but on Lincoln.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shake his head. “I didn’t come here for you to put me in a better mood, Lawson.”

  I roll my eyes as I turn to face him. He called me Lawson for well over a month at the beginning of the school year—up until he kissed me. It seems like a tedious measure to go back to since he’s already stuck his tongue in my mouth as well as down there.

  He chuckles. “Raegan,” he says, as though he can read my thoughts. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t … I didn’t mean to come here. I just couldn’t think of anywhere else I could go.”

  Lincoln opens the car door, extending a hand toward me. This situation is on par with taking another shot to cure a hangover. Instead, I’m trying to aid one heartbreak with another.

  I grab Paxton’s keys, and against my better judgment, take his hand.

  “Your hands are always freezing,” he says.

  “It’s been worse since the accident.”

  His brows lower. “You think you just notice it more?”

  I shrug. “Maybe. But I feel cold now. Constantly.” I shove my free hand into the fleece-lined pocket of my jacket. “It’s like the ocean changed my body temperature.” His skin, in contrast, feels hot against my chilled fingers.

  “Nigeria will be warm.”

  I nod. “Maggie will like that. She loves the sun.”

  We walk along a path I’ve only taken once because it’s long, windy, and unkempt, leading to a shore covered in rocks and pebbles and little sand. I don’t complain, though, because I have no desire to walk to the end of the pier.

  “How’d you know I was going to be here?” I ask, glancing over at him as he pauses in front of a long piece of driftwood blocking our path. He releases my hand and climbs over it, reaching back for me. I don’t need his help to balance or get myself over. It’s not a very big log, and before Mom and Dad spent eighty-plus hours a week working, we spent most of our weekends with the woods as our classroom, climbing and exploring all of nature’s secrets. Still, I take his help in scaling the log.

  “What was your childhood like?” he asks, like I didn’t just ask a question.

  “What?”

  Lincoln dips his chin and raises his shoulders. “I didn’t know you guys when you were younger.”

  “It was good. I mean…” I shrug. “It was normal.”

  He chuckles softly. “Your family isn’t normal. They like each other. You guys don’t fight and only see each other on Christmas.”

  “We fight, we’re just quick to forgive … usually.” I think of Mom again and how each day, her anger surprises me. Lincoln stares at me, refusing to accept such a simple response.

  “Supposedly, Maggie was upset when my parents were pregnant with me. Paxton didn’t sleep and stole all her toys. Plus, they say he was a biter. She was afraid I was going to be a menace, so she refused to acknowledge me until I was nearly two.”

  Lincoln’s mouth parts with surprise, his brow rising. “No. No way.” He smiles, weaving us around a large puddle in the middle of the path. His jeans are clean and look new, as do his black tennis shoes.

  “It’s going to get muddier. Maybe we should turn back. You’re going to ruin your clothes.”

  He glances from his attire to my own. My jeans are comfortably worn, and I’d put on my old tennis shoes that are stained, and one has a hole in the side from excessive wear becau
se while I love eyeliner and fashion, I hate shopping for shoes and only own a handful of pairs. These are still my favorite.

  “I’m not worried about it,” he says, tugging me forward. “She really didn’t pay attention to you until you were two?”

  I nod. “Well, almost two.”

  “What changed her mind?”

  “Dad said I refused to let her ignore me.” I smirk. “My first word was Maggie.”

  Lincoln glances at me. “You’re not an easy person to ignore.”

  “Yet, you’ve both proven it’s achievable.” I throw the words out, surprised I don’t regret them though it feels like I should. “Our childhood was good. I mean, we had parents who cared for us, family dinners every night, an annual vacation to the Oregon coast. But, it was definitely different than now. My parents never had much money, which is probably the biggest difference. Dad also seems happier now. Like he worked so long to be something more and better, and he finally feels like he achieved that.”

  “I think guys are sometimes worse at that.”

  “At trying to be the best?”

  He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just at being present.”

  “What was your childhood like?”

  Lincoln smirks. “You ask that like I’m done. The only thing I learned out of that was Maggie ignored you for two years. Paxton being a pain in the ass doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

  “I don’t have anything more to tell.”

  “Have you always lived in that house?”

  The path narrows, and Lincoln slows, forcing me to lead the way. “No. We moved in when I was eight. My grandma on my dad’s side passed, and she left it for him. We wouldn’t have been able to afford to live in Seattle otherwise.”