Breaking the Rules: The Dating Playbook, Book: 2

by Dietz, Mariah

  “You don’t,” I tell her. “You don’t want to live with that. You don’t want someone else to hurt. You haven’t done anything that you can’t come back from. Let’s keep it that way, okay? Let’s just take a deep breath, and put the gun down.”

  She looks from me to Raegan. “How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

  “Because he’s the most honest person you’ll ever meet,” Rae says. “And because I love them, both of them, and they won’t do anything to hurt you or me.”

  Lindsay looks haunted and defeated—a concoction that scares me more than the anger that had been so visible because one doesn’t see reason or the potential loss when they already feel like they’ve lost everything. She moves, time slowing like so many movies have portrayed, like you know the moment is coming, allowing you to memorize every detail so you can appreciate it all one final time.

  Raegan’s face falls, her arms dropping to her sides as she recognizes the same reality—my reality. Raegan screams, the sound masked by the gun firing.

  41

  Raegan

  I slam into her, my weight taking her down easily. We fall fast and hard, her head hitting the lamppost, the sound eerily like that of a melon cracking and making my stomach churn before my knees and hands hit the slick wooden dock. The gun clangs against the boards near me. I reach for it, losing my grip as I do, my chest hitting the dock and knocking the air out of me before her legs slip from mine, and there’s a loud splash.

  My attention shoots to Lincoln who’s crouched, his eyes impossibly wide. “Are you okay?” he asks, moving to stand.

  I nod, my heart beating so fast, I’m dizzy. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

  He nods, climbing to his knees and then his feet.

  “We have to help her.” I tear my attention away from Lincoln, though my entire body wants to reach for him, feel his heat, the security of his touch, the assurance of his kiss.

  “She tried to shoot us,” Pax says, moving to Lincoln when I take too long.

  “I know, but it’s his fault, not hers.” I glance back at the dark water, knowing she’s sinking farther into the depths with each second.

  “Raegan!” Lincoln yells. “Don’t.”

  I glance at him. “I won’t leave you. I promise. But, I can’t let her die. Our dad did this to her.”

  Lincoln starts toward me. “If you jump in there, you’re crazy.”

  I grin. It feels reckless and irrational, similar to my mood. “Fifteen seconds,” I tell him. “Also, I love you, too,” I say, and then I jump.

  The contrast of the cold water flooding every inch of my body has my thoughts flashing back to that night I jumped in to save Blue. I feel imaginary tugs on my clothes, making my heart pound in my chest with fear as I thrash my arms to rid the invisible attack I know is only in my mind.

  The water laps at my skin, a silent countdown in my head, echoing the dangers of being under for too long as I dive down, praying I have some chance to catch up with her.

  I kick and push the water, swimming so deep I can barely see, my eyes burning with the tiny debris floating around and the salt.

  Then, my hand brushes against something soft, making me cringe. Nightmares of the stories people have told for centuries about monsters that lurk in the depths of the Pacific make me nearly suck in a breath of the icy salt water, but then I feel the warmth of skin and fabric. I wrap my arms around her, everything weighing me down: my clothes, her, her clothes. I kick and push, clutching her dead weight as the time starts to speed up. Then, warm hands tap my arm, and through the dark and murky water, I see Lincoln, and beside him is Pax, here for me like he’s always been there for me. Lincoln grabs my hand, and Paxton takes her weight before shoving me upward. I follow Lincoln, kicking as my lungs start to burn, and my muscles start to ache. I clear the surface with a gasp, my breaths coming out in fast bursts as I suck in the night air, rain falling across my hair and face as I look for Lincoln.

  He swims toward me, his hair pushed back, and his eyes still wild and wide. “Are you okay?” He cups my face, his eyes following the path of his fingers as he traces over me.

  I nod, still shivering. “Are you okay? Did she hit you?” I ask, scouring the details of his face and expression.

  Lincoln leans forward, his lips crashing against mine in a clumsy and cold kiss. “She missed. She hit the water.” He kisses me again, gentler this time. “God, you scared me.”

  Tears pool in my eyes, but before I can answer, Pax surfaces several feet away, Lindsay still in his arms as he heaves a deep breath.

  I tread water, attempting to ascertain the best way to help get her out, my arms and legs cutting through the water, the freezing temperatures feeling so different than they had that night with Blue, the fear inside of me nearly forgotten as the same comfort the ocean’s always provided returns. There’s no way I should have been able to reach Lindsay, not with how long it took me to dive in and the lack of visibility. The ocean helped me, I know it did, and I don’t question the how or why, I simply revel in the fact that my purpose and place feels renewed.

  “I can’t tell if she’s breathing,” Pax says.

  “We need to get her out.”

  Lincoln appears beside me. “Let’s get her to the ladder. I’ll climb out, and I can pull her up. Time’s not going to be our friend.”

  Lights start twisting in the air as we swim toward the dock, and then I hear Poppy yelling my name, and a man arguing with her to stay back. A police officer appears, shining his flashlight on us and blinding me. Then another officer appears, this one shorter.

  “What’s going on?” the shorter officer asks.

  Paxton shakes his head, all of us speechless for a moment as we digest the last few moments. Then, Dad appears, his brow furrowed, and his beard gone. “Raegan. Paxton.” He places a hand on his chest, his head tipping skyward, making my emotions feel weighted with a constant train of conflicting thoughts. “Thank God you’re both all right.” He looks at us and then Lindsay. “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t think she’s breathing,” I tell him.

  The officers each take a knee, helping to lift Lindsay out of the water before we follow, climbing up the rickety ladder.

  The second our feet are on the dock, I catch sight of an officer doing chest compressions on Lindsay while another officer lays a blanket over her legs. A frantic chain of words are spoken, and then I see Dad. He hovers over her, watching and listening as intently as we do.

  Responsibility and fear press on my lungs as I wait with bated breath. It’s a confounding and overwhelming sense of emotions that pass through me as I watch Lindsay lying there, knowing it was my dad and their list of broken promises and lies that led to this moment. And though I know I didn’t intentionally hurt her, I’m already thinking about how I could have done something—anything—differently so it didn’t end like this.

  “We’ve got a pulse. Turn her!” They move her to her side in time for her to throw up a stomach-full of seawater.

  “Medics should be here in less than five,” one of the officers says.

  I shiver, the combination of the cold water and icy wind and receding adrenaline creating a tenseness that makes my entire body hurt, though my mind feels a new sense of ease and calm.

  “Raegan!” Poppy yells, her feet falling loud and fast across the dock. She doesn’t hesitate, wrapping her arms around me even though I’m sopping wet. Her grip is tight, her embrace warm for a full second before she pulls back and looks at me with a scrutinizing glance. “Are you okay?”

  I’m barely able to confirm with a nod before she’s hugging me.

  A fire truck arrives, closely followed by an ambulance, and we watch in silence as they assist Lindsay. My ease grows as she moves her legs and arms, and then plummets when she motions to the back of her head.

  “She’s fine. She’s going to be just fine,” Lincoln says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You saved my life.”

  Before his words can sink in, Dad walks to
ward us, pushing a hand through his hair. He looks ten years older than he did a few weeks ago. He stops several feet in front of us. “Are you guys okay?” His gaze crosses between us, guilt furrowing his brow. “I swear, I had no idea she’d do this.”

  “But you should’ve,” Pax says. “You ruined that girl’s life, and in the process, you nearly took Raegan’s. That’s on you.”

  Dad nods. “I know. I understand.” He turns his gaze to me, silent apologies creasing his brow. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to hurt anyone.”

  Poppy keeps hold of my arm but turns to face him. “You can’t expect them to accept your apology. Not now, not after this. You’re going to have to clean this monumental mess you’ve made, and then after you do that, you can offer another apology, but you can’t expect an acceptance. That’s not how apologies work. It’s her choice. It’s his choice.”

  “I didn’t—” Dad starts.

  Poppy shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. Actions speak louder than words. Prove that you’re sorry, and don’t make them feel guilty for not being ready to accept your lousy apology after everything you’ve done.”

  Dad nods. “I will. I’ll fix this.”

  Memories of him promising to fix things that night I found him with Lindsay make my eyes sting and betrayal to creep into my thoughts. Still, I want to believe him. I want to think of the man I knew when I was little, the one whose toes I stood on as he spun me around the kitchen, and sat patiently with me while I stared out at the ocean, waiting to catch a glimpse of a whale. The one who attended every football game of Paxton’s and cried openly when Maggie left.

  “Dad,” I say, taking a step.

  He stops from turning around, the same hope I’m feeling apparent in his eyes. “It’s not just us who need you to clean things up. You need to talk to Maggie and to Mom. And you need to help Lindsay without taking more from her. You’ve hurt her so much.”

  Dad presses his lips together, running a hand over his shaven jaw. He slowly nods. “I understand.”

  Pax blows out a long, slow breath as Dad turns, speaking to an officer who approaches him. “You’re out of your mind, you know that, right?” He asks. “I can’t believe you jumped in there.”

  “Yes, you can,” I tell him.

  He fights a smile, running a hand over his face as water drips from his hair. “You’re still crazy.”

  “I fell in love with your best friend. If that isn’t proof that I’m crazy, then I don’t know what is.”

  Pax shakes his head, a near-silent scoff. “I told you to date a book nerd.”

  “I did,” I argue. “Have you seen how many books he owns?” I ask, glancing at Lincoln.

  He smirks, his brown eyes bright with humor. “This is true,” he says.

  “If that wasn’t bending the rules, then I don’t know what is,” Pax says with a smirk.

  “I’m pretty sure they broke the rules,” Poppy says, turning her attention to me, bestowing me with a wide and familiar smile. “Finally.”

  I move my attention to Pax. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say. “I know this sounds like an excuse, but I just didn’t want to interfere when you already had so much going on. I swear, I was going to tell you, after your last game, I was going to tell you everything.”

  Pax links his arm around my shoulder, his touch cold for several seconds before turning warm. “You should have told me about the cranes, and Dad, and Lincoln.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “But, I get it. And while it’s strange as fuck, I get it. I see it, now. It’s going to take some time to get used to this, but,” his gaze cuts to Lincoln, “I’m not going to get in the way. You guys need each other, and I’m not going to mess it up.” He pulls in a breath. “So, kiss and make up while I go buy you five minutes from all these cops.” His hand slips from my shoulder, and he walks up the dock with Poppy at his side.

  I turn to Lincoln. His wet dress shirt is plastered to his chest, and his lips are starting to turn a light shade of blue. “I’m sorry I left. I should have stayed and talked to you about everything. I should have explained to you how I felt and why it bothered me so much, and I should have trusted you instead of her.”

  He shakes his head. “I wasn’t even thinking. That stupid necklace I gave her meant nothing to me, but I can see how it would mean something to her, and more importantly, to you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear, I will do anything—everything—to make sure you’re safe and that you’re happy and feel heard—feel seen because I see you, Raegan Lawson. I see every part of you, and I love you.”

  I reach forward, trailing my fingers over his cheek. “I was so scared when she aimed the gun at you,” I admit.

  The column of his throat moves as he swallows. Then, he lowers his forehead to mine. “I swear to God, I’m building you a bubble.”

  I laugh, closing my eyes as his hand comes to my waist, anchoring me.

  “I need to hear you say it again. Tell me you love me without following it by diving into the fucking ocean again.”

  My lips curve into a smile, my laughter catching in my throat as he takes a step back, his dark eyes more intense and intent than I’ve ever seen them—his vulnerability fully exposed as he stares at me.

  “I love you, Lincoln. I love you so much. I’ve loved you—”

  He silences me with a kiss that is demanding and impatient, much like Lincoln is. We kiss urgently in the borrowed time, knowing later we’ll be making time for slower kisses where we can appreciate these words and their truths.

  Epilogue

  Lincoln

  Coach Harris chews his gum so furiously his jaw pops with protest. He leans back on his heels. “This is it. This is what you’ve all been working for.” He peers at our team, stopping when he reaches me. “Let’s get back out there and show this team what you’re made of. You hear me?” The team whoops and claps and then turns back around. Coach Harris stalks to me, his hand on my shoulder. “You all right, son?”

  I nod, drying my hands on the towel. “Never been better.”

  He grins. “I see that. You’re not just playing like you’ve got something to prove—tonight you’re playing like you’ve got something to lose.”

  I think about his words as I drift back to my place on the field, soaking up the sounds, the lights, the energy that still feeds me like a physical substance. I glance higher into the stands, and though I can’t find her with the thousands crowding the bleachers, I can feel her presence.

  Pax makes a beeline for me, his gaze intense. “Stop hunting for my little sister, and get your head in the game.”

  I flash an immediate grin. “You have your game habits, I’ve got mine.”

  His lips tip upward. After that night on the dock a month ago, something changed for all of us, something individually as well as collectively. A price was put on friendship and love. A reality we’d already met once that reminded us nothing is guaranteed and everything should be savored. “You feeling okay?”

  We’ve worked diligently to keep the details from that night out of the press in hopes of saving what was left of Lindsay Meyer’s reputation. Last we heard, she transferred to a school down in Oregon, and her parents moved with her.

  Pax nods, then glances up into the stands. “She’s in there somewhere. Don’t let her down,” he pats my shoulder, the same one that has felt weaker all year and still hints at the idea.

  We’re at our final bowl game of the year, Christmas having passed just two days before, a Christmas that was different in nearly every aspect from years past. Things between my dad and I didn’t magically resolve with that single conversation at his wedding. He’s still in denial that my future won’t include a plaque on a door at his law office, and though he spends more time at home with Carol than he has with his ex-wives who came before, he still has a long way to go toward reaching any husband of the year awards. Still, Raegan and I went to brunch at their house, where Dad asked too many qu
estions about her dad and her future, and not enough getting to know her. Then Raegan gave him a book about Andy Warhol and the history of modern artists, and it was as though a switch was flipped and the side of my dad that so commonly focusses on business dealings seemed to fade as the lesser-known personal side of him peeked out. They began discussing life and how she had visited Italy as a freshman, my dad’s love for the museums in Italy, her adoration for the culture and food, and before I knew what was happening, they were laughing, and Raegan pulled me into the conversation with both hands, talking about me and our undefeated season, how school was going, and my continued love for history that had us debating modern-day culture and the impacts of past civilizations and which brought us the greatest rewards and cost us the greatest detriments.

  After that, we spent the afternoon and evening with Paxton and their mom, grandpa, and Camilla in the new house their mom bought a couple weeks before. It’s a small brownstone, built in the early 1920s. Raegan’s still struggling to know where things lie between her and her dad, and I don’t blame her. At times I want to give my unsolicited advice and tell her to keep him out of her life—especially after everything I saw he was capable of and the destruction he caused others, but Raegan isn’t like me. She has the ability to forgive, and considering I’ve been on the receiving end of that quality, I don’t dare hinder it, only learn from it.

  We line up, and I watch the field for the markers Raegan warned us about. I take a final fleeting glance at the crowd before my focus falls solely on the field and each player.

  “Why aren’t we celebrating?” Raegan asks, pushing against my shoulder with hers.

  “We are.”

  “We ditched everyone and came out to eat tacos.”