Rules

by Doe, Anna B.

  In the last second, I put the mitt in front of my face, stopping her from actually punching me in the nose.

  “Nose,” she pants, bending forward. Her hands grip her knees as she tries to get her breathing under control. Lifting her head for a second, she flashes me a smile. “Got it.”

  “Remind me not to piss you off,” I laugh. “Firecracker just got a bit edgier.”

  Brook laughs too, but when our laughter dies, determination returns to her face. “Show me more.”

  And I do. I walk her through some of the classic defensive moves like heel and elbow strike, as well as groin kick. I let her try them out on me, the third one reluctantly, until she’s confident she has them mastered, and then I show her how to get away if somebody actually manages to capture her.

  Brook masters each move one by one, and I watch her confidence and smile grow with every praise I give her.

  “One more time?” she asks after we’ve been at it for more than an hour.

  Sighing, I agree. “One more, but then we’re done for today.”

  She turns her back to me, and I grab her from behind. She throws her head back, missing my face by an inch and casing my leg to get between hers. Brook bends down and grabs my leg, pulling it as she gets up from the squat, making me fall on my ass.

  The breath gets kicked out of my lungs, and I stay glued to the floor, not moving a muscle. My body aches from all the practice, but I don’t regret it for a moment.

  Brook’s face looms over me, a big smile spread on her lips, but it’s gone as soon as it appears when she lowers down to the ground next to me.

  “Thank you,” she says softly.

  “I already told you, there is nothing to thank me for. This is all you.”

  “You let me punch you and throw you around like a rag doll, but more than that, you gave me back my confidence. When you asked me to join you this morning without saying what we were going to do, I was happy to be able to stay. And yes, part of it was because it’s you, but now I realize a part of me was scared to go back. If I’m here, with you, I’m safe, but out there…” The rest of her sentence stays hanging in the air, but she doesn’t have to finish it for me to understand. “So yeah, thank you.”

  My fingers lace with hers, and I give her a strong squeeze. “Everybody needs a little help and reassurance every now and then.”

  She huffs a laugh, but there is nothing funny in her tone. “Not you.”

  I shake my head. “Even me.”

  Feeling my throat close on me, I look away. I’ve never talked to anybody about this, but after Brook opened up to me yesterday, it feels wrong not to do the same for her. “You already helped me more than you can even imagine, Brook.”

  A beat passes in silence, then two. She watches me with confusion, a frown between her brows, as I clear my throat and start talking.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  BROOK

  Patiently, I wait for Max to explain how exactly I helped him. I can see that he’s uncomfortable, so I wait him out, giving him the space he needs to open up, although I want to know, and I want to know now.

  It was hard not to feel exposed and vulnerable after everything that happened. I confided in Max, told him my deepest secrets. I’m emotionally drained, but part of me, a big part, feels relieved. Relieved there is somebody out there who knows what happened to me and doesn’t judge me. Yet, there is this other part that wants him to do the same. To have Max bare himself to me so I’m not the only one feeling this way.

  Clearing his throat, his eyes finally find mine. His hand that’s holding on to mine is clammy, but neither of us pulls away. It’s like we need this connection between us. Need to have an anchor to hold on to.

  “I was seven years old when I started understanding that I wasn’t like the other kids in my class.” He closes his eyes for a second—in embarrassment or just to clear his mind? I’m not sure. But I do know I saw a flicker of pain and frustration in his stormy gaze a second before he looked away.

  “It’s normal that starting school, starting to learn, is an adjustment for all kids, but it was a real nightmare for me. I tried to explain it to my teachers and my parents, but they thought I was lying to cover my laziness. Letters dancing on the page,” he laughs bitterly. “Can you imagine their faces when I tried to explain it? But there was no better description than that; there still isn’t.”

  My heart aches for him, the little misunderstood boy he was and the young man sitting in front of me.

  “You’re dyslexic,” I whisper, squeezing his fingers to draw his attention. Max lifts his head, surprise written in his eyes.

  “What?”

  “Dyslexic. It’s a learning disorder. It affects your ability to interpret words, letters, and symbols,” I explain. “And before you give me that freaked-out look, no, it does not make you stupid and I don’t think of you as such. You’re smart, but your brain works in a different way than most people’s.”

  “H-How do you know that?” he asks, wide-eyed.

  Did he really think I didn’t notice? After all the time we’ve spent together studying?

  “I’ve heard of it before.” I shrug, playing it off. I knew Max and figured he was keeping it a secret because he was ashamed of it or something, so I never wanted to make a big deal out of it. I tried asking him about it once, but when he went cold, I decided to let it go. “But I never saw it first-hand until I met you.”

  “So the spreadsheets and stuff?”

  “That’s to help you learn easier. I looked it up online when we were working on that Spanish project. It said that organizing material differently and keeping important information and keywords organized in a visual manner should help your brain form the connections and conclusions more easily.”

  “It does.” He nods, a small smile forming on his lips. He turns to the side, leaning against his forearm to look at me. “Thank you, Brook.”

  “You’re welcome.” With his burning gaze on me, I feel the color rise in my cheeks, but I can’t break our stare. Smiling back, one of my hands reaches forward and brushes back a damp strand of hair that fell in his face. “How did you do it… before?”

  “Jeanette. She always believed me and did her best to help me, but even she doesn’t understand the extent of it all.”

  “There are professionals who can help you with studying. There are more techniques to help you organize…”

  “I know,” Max interrupts me, his expression going dark for a moment. “It’s just… one of my teachers tried suggesting it to my parents when I was younger, and they didn’t want to hear about it. The only thing they heard was “disability” and the Sanders family is not disabled.”

  “Learning disabilities are more common than people think, and they’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I know, but I’ve been making do for so long…”

  I nod my head in understanding. When you’re hiding something for as long as we both have, it’s hard to open up to other people, especially if you yourself view your secret as a weakness.

  It’s funny, because for all our differences, at the end of the day, Max and I are more similar than either of us thought possible.

  Giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, I whisper, “I can help you. For as long as you need, I’ll be there.”

  Side by side, we lie and stare at each other, the only connection our intertwined fingers. With our demons at bay, if only temporarily, we bare our souls to one another.

  “Me too, Firecracker,” Max whispers back. “Me too.”

  In this moment, we live in now. If only now could last forever.

  * * *

  Being with the Sanders twins made it easy to forget about the outside world waiting for me, and I decided to stay ignorant for as long as possible. Once Max and I managed to get ourselves off the floor, we went back upstairs to take a shower. This time, I asked Jeanette for a change of clothes since mine were dirty and Max’s were simply too big.

  Jeanette looked at us with interest w
hen we barged into her bedroom, not too happy to be woken up, even though it was well past noon. Max insisted it’s normal for her to sleep in and be grumpy when she wakes up, but there was something else about her. There wasn’t the usual fire in her eyes. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what was wrong, but I knew her enough to know something was happening and she didn’t want to talk about it, so I decided not to ask too many questions.

  After the shower, we all went downstairs to eat something and then we curled up in the media room and spent the afternoon watching movies. I was surprised that, yet again, their parents weren’t home. Apparently, their dad was working and their mom went out to have lunch at the county club with their grandma, who was visiting over the holidays. Still, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was their normal. That their parents are always out doing their own thing and leaving the twins to fend for themselves.

  I always thought that if you have a real home, family and money, you have it easy, but I’m starting to doubt that. On the surface, Max and Jeanette seem to have it all, but when you look deeper, you can see the cracks in the perfection they portray to the outside world. I’ve been dealt a shitty hand when it comes to my family and upbringing, but even though they have both parents and everything money can buy, they are still lonely. We’re all broken and jaded in our own way. The only difference is, some of us are better than others at covering it up. There are some exceptions, like Lia and her family, but those people are few and far between.

  “I should go home,” I say, looking at the sun setting through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook their backyard. The orange glow makes the snow that had fallen the day before shine brightly.

  Max’s hands squeeze tighter around my middle, pulling me further into his chest. “Nope, not yet.”

  “Maaax!” Self-consciously, I look toward the doorway, expecting somebody to come any second now, although rationally I know there is no one in the house. Jeanette was watching Netflix with us for a while, but decided to go to her own room eventually, and his parents are out. But with my luck, that doesn’t mean anything. Our friends were already giving us knowing looks, and that was before something was happening between us.

  Is something happening between you now?

  I want to deny it. The words are on the tip of my tongue, ready to lash out, but something is holding me back.

  Looking over my shoulder, I meet his warm gaze. “I should go before somebody comes.”

  “Nobody will come,” he reassures me, his eyes growing darker, voice husky. “Stay.”

  My whole body shudders when his warm breath touches my skin, my stomach clenching in anticipation that the look in his eyes brings.

  His fingers dance over my cheek, slowly grazing my skin, tracing the line of my cheekbone and jaw. His thumb caresses my lower lip and I can’t help the sharp inhale. Nibbling at my lower lip, I watch his eyes fall down to my mouth.

  Shifting in his seat, his hands help me turn around so I’m straddling his hips.

  Max groans at the first feel of our bodies touching. His hips thrust forward on their own accord and I can feel his hard length press against my center.

  He grabs my cheeks, his forehead pressing to mine.

  Letting my lip pop out, I whisper, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  Our lips almost but not quite touching. So close, yet far away.

  “We totally should,” Max counters.

  I want to disagree once again, but the words won’t come out. This constant tension, this uncertainty, between us, is killing me. Every time we’re in the same room, every time our eyes lock even with the distance between us, it feels like all the air is sucked from the space. It’s hard to breathe.

  If only it were mutual.

  My fingertips brush against his cheek tentatively. “You don’t want me. Not really.”

  Groaning, his hands slide down to the small of my back and pull me closer. My whole body presses into his and leaves me breathless.

  I should be scared, repulsed really. With everything I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours, I shouldn’t want his touch. But I do. Oh, how I do.

  “Does this feel like I don’t want you?” he whispers in my ear, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my neck.

  As if to say he agrees, his cock twitches against me, and I can’t help but whimper.

  “Maybe my body.”

  “Not just your body.” Max pushes my hair back, lifting my face to look at him. “I want your all, Brook.” Those gray irises stare into me with such intensity it’s impossible to look away. “Your all, Brook,” he repeats. “Your body. Your mind. Your heart. And your very soul. It all belongs to me.”

  His words ring in my mind as his mouth assaults mine. There is no finesse, no tenderness. Today he’s taking what he wants, and I’m powerless.

  Powerless to resist him.

  Powerless to resist myself.

  Powerless to resist this desire and need that’s been growing between us since I laid my eyes on him.

  His big hands cradle my cheeks, not letting me move one inch—not like I’d actually do it—as his mouth ravishes mine. His tongue seeks entrance, owning my mouth with sure, dominant strokes.

  Sighing into him, my tongue returns his strokes, my whole body shivering with need. I grip his forearms, holding on for dear life.

  “Brook…” My name is a low growl coming off his lips, deep and sexy as hell. His lips press harder, tongue dives deeper, bringing out a moan of my own. My whole body answers his call, and I can’t help myself. My thighs clench tighter around him, pulling him into me more.

  He was right.

  He does own me.

  Maybe I don’t want it.

  I sure as hell don’t like it.

  But it’s true.

  Maximillian Sanders has somehow found his way into my life, into my heart. No matter how much I tried to push him away, he found a way to break through.

  My final rule broken from one look of his steely eyes.

  My hands slide over his forearms and onto his chest. Max’s heart beats wildly, yet somehow in tune with mine.

  His fingers play with the edge of my shirt before they slip underneath the hem. Naked skin touching naked skin as my whole body wakens in awareness. The warmth of his touch spreading through my whole body.

  “Max…” I gasp, breaking the kiss to breathe in so much needed air. Air he apparently doesn’t need, because he keeps kissing me. My cheek, my jaw, and my neck. With soft kisses, he traces my skin, committing to memory the lines of my face.

  One of my hands dips into his strands, trying to find a semblance of control. I want to let go, I really do, but I can’t.

  It took me so long to get it back, to reassure myself that I’m okay. That I’m safe and that nobody can touch me. And still, I have nightmares.

  I push the always-present memories back, returning to this moment.

  To this now.

  Tugging at his hair, I stop him from placing another kiss on the hollow of my shoulder. Max lifts his head, dazzling, passion-filled eyes looking at me.

  My fingers brush against his cheek, feeling that constant current vibrating underneath my skin every time we touch.

  I pull him in for a kiss.

  Slower.

  Longer.

  Thorough.

  My mouth brushes over his in delicate, closed-mouthed kisses, until we can’t stand it anymore.

  His hands grip my cheeks tighter, our mouths open, tongues sliding together as we both moan at the touch.

  “Mine, Brook,” Max whispers between kisses, his words making my heart pound.

  A shudder runs through my body, an icy feeling spreading through my veins. Those words. Those damn words…

  Not now.

  My whole body goes still underneath his arms, all the warmth and excitement I’d been feeling just moments before now gone.

  Not again. This can’t be happening again.

  But it is, and I can’t stop it. I can’t stop the
memories rushing back. Can’t hold back the darkness.

  I try to fight it. I try to push it all back, but it’s useless.

  He’s gone. You’re safe.

  But am I really?

  “Mine, Brook,” he pants. “You’re mine.”

  The fine hair at the base of my neck stands, cold sweat washing over my body. It’s like I can hear him whisper in my ear. Like he’s standing right there behind me, his warm, beer-stained breath touching my skin and making the bile rise in my throat.

  “Brook?” Max rasps, breaking our kiss. I blink my eyes open, meeting his worried stare. “Are you okay?”

  Is this the first time he’s called my name, or did he just get through to me?

  His voice is barely audible, but somehow it reaches me. Finds me in the darkness and memories and brings me back to the light.

  My fingers grip his, looking for support. Anchor.

  “Take it away,” I plead. “Please, Max… take it all away.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  MAX

  Brook’s helpless, almost tortured plea hangs over us as I wrap my hands around her and pull her small body into my arms. It’s with us all the way down the dark hallway and up the stairs until we get safely behind the closed door of my bedroom.

  Please, Max… take it all away.

  Even in this moment that should be all ours, he is still lurking in her mind, not letting go. But I’m not about to let him win. Not this time.

  “Are you sure?” I whisper, my lips brushing against her earlobe, leaving a small kiss before I lay her down on my bed.