Rule Number Two (Rule Breakers Book 2)

by Nicky Shanks

  She likes it.

  She loves the thrill; she’ll like fighting just as much as I do, and this is going to end up in much bigger fireworks than the ones I had with Julie.

  Maybe I’ve met my match, then.

  “You shouldn’t grab people like that. You could seriously hurt someone with that grip you have, Incredible Hulk.” She rubs her arm and glares at me with disgust. “You could have hurt me, and then I’d have to kick your ass.”

  The fragility in her voice amuses me; I can see her fear dripping from her tongue as she squares her shoulders when I laugh. “You—kick my ass? I don’t think so, Paris Hilton.”

  She scoffs and puts her hands on her hips, pretending to be offended. But I can see the sparkle in her eyes. “Well, I would try.”

  Heather’s freshness makes me smile. I broke Julie down so much that she eventually stopped fighting back, but not Heather. She looks like she thrives on a challenge. This might eventually be a problem for us since I like to fight too. Two volcanos don’t make a rainbow—that’s just common sense.

  “Speaking of sleeping with me—”

  She laughs. “I never said I was sleeping with you.”

  I grin and slip my hands around her small waist, making her drop her arms to her sides. “Well, let’s stop talking and make that happen. It’s been a long and frustrating night. I could use a release.”

  She makes a disgusted noise. “I told you no sex and I mean no sex.”

  “I didn’t think you were serious.” I try to smile but end up frowning instead. “What’s your problem?”

  “My problem? Are you serious right now? What happened to that sweet guy from the past few days? I mean, you leave for half a day and when you come back, you’re all pissed off and taking it out on me.”

  Smart girl.

  “Just stop!” I yell at her. “I think you have me mixed up with Saint Oliver. I never said I was sweet and I never said I would treat you kindly. If anything, you should be thankful that I picked your sorry ass up from that hotel and gave you a real home.” I’m growling at her and I want to rip her clothes off. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

  Her eyes get glassy. Oh, please don’t cry.

  “I think I better leave.” She sniffles and runs from me, shutting her bedroom door behind her. I hear her sobbing from where I stand, frozen in place. What the hell is wrong with me? I know I can have her if I really want her—what’s holding me back?

  She’s not Julie.

  I don’t bother knocking because I don’t care if she wants to cry in private. I know it’s my fault she’s in hysterics, and I actually feel bad about it. I try and find a little softness in myself as I stand in the open doorway and she refuses to look at me.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken things out on you. I’m just…angry.” I watch the light return to her eyes as she wipes them; all she wanted was an apology.

  I have to do better. I have to stop thinking about Julie and start thinking about Heather. I have to stop wanting Julie if I’m ever going to have a normal life again.

  Heather leans toward me and it makes me nervous. All she wants is someone to validate her and make her feel special again—make her feel worthy of spending the time making herself look the way she does. I can’t hide the fact that I want her; the soft bounces of her small, perky tits taunt me as I walk to her and take her hand in mine. “Forgive me?”

  She clutches my hand tighter. “I forgive you. I know what it’s like to be in love with someone you can’t have.”

  My eyes widen because she called me out. That’s not how I thought this would turn out, but I find myself not wanting to fight anymore. I think about her feelings—which is odd for me to even admit to myself. My fingers find her tears and I wipe them away. I know she can see right through me. “I’m still in love with Julie,” I say to her. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t love you too.”

  “I found her things upstairs.”

  I want to yell at her. “Okay, and what do you think about that?”

  She shrugs. “I can handle it.”

  I laugh then snap my mouth shut. “You seem like a woman who doesn’t like to share.”

  She turns toward me and I let her crawl into my lap. Her legs are bony and jab into my thighs, but I try to think of something else. Once she nestles in and finds warmth, I hear her soft breathing and it slows the world down around me.

  “I don’t like to share,” she says. “I probably will get tired of it eventually. You’ll have to choose at some point. You’ll have to answer to yourself if you want to keep chasing a ghost.”

  “Julie isn’t a ghost.”

  “Your relationship is. You have to know how in love Oliver and Julie are, right? She isn’t going to leave him, no matter what you have up your sleeve.” There’s thick sadness in her voice and I know she’s still pining over Oliver just as much as I am for Julie. All I can do right now is mend this present moment with her and hold her for as long as she wants me to.

  I just want to feel normal again.

  I smile.

  Normal.

  My life was normal.

  Now, my life is…a disaster.

  “I can’t be Julie for you just like you can’t be Oliver for me.” I cringe when she says his name. I overheard Randy and Julie yelling in their front yard before I left, and I debate on whether to tell Heather about his accident. I don’t want her to run to him too.

  I rub my chin and her eyes lock on mine. “I have something to tell you about where I was tonight.”

  Should I tell her everything? Even the parts before Oliver’s crash?

  No, stick to the basics.

  “I was at Julie’s.” I watch her face, but she doesn’t cry. “I went over there to see her, but she was with some other guy and found out something bad about Oliver.” I think about the entire scene again, leaving out some parts so she won’t be as pissed. “Did you know that Julie is pregnant? Or she might be…I’m not exactly sure.”

  Her jaw drops. “No, I didn’t know that.” The color drains from her face as she processes the information.

  “Then I guess something else happened.” I wait for her to climb out of my lap, but she snuggles in deeper. “He was in a car accident and he’s in the hospital.”

  There.

  Now, what are you going to do?

  Are you going to leave me, or are you going to stay?

  Your move.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Heather

  For some reason, when Brandon tells me about Oliver’s accident…I don’t panic.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I frown. “I hope he’s going to be okay.”

  Brandon’s eyes twinkle and he devours my lips before I even know what’s happening. I missed someone kissing me like he does—like he wants me so bad that it overwhelms both of us when we touch. Oliver and I were like that once.

  I can’t think about Oliver right now.

  The more Oliver slips away from me, the more Brandon seems within my reach.

  The gold flecks in his brown eyes captivate me when he lets go. My legs are drawn to him; my body aches at the thought of his lips on my skin. I turn in his lap and face him, pressing my body against him. My hips move in circles against his pelvis and his rough hands grab my ass and squeeze hard. He pulls me closer and buries his face in my hair, pressing his hard-on into me and groaning softly.

  “Are you sure you want this?” His breath is ragged. “I mean, you really want me?”

  “I want you,” I breathe into his ear.

  Before I can change my mind, he grabs me and stands up, wrapping my legs around his waist. I feel drunk and the room spins with my excitement, but all I can focus on is how incredible it feels to have him throw me down onto the bed and rip off my pajamas. The chill of the room tickles my naked body as he tears off his own clothes and looks down at me. The adrenaline inside my veins is taking over every inch of me as he examines what I look like completely naked—he hasn’t seen
me this way since we hooked up in the hotel. Except then it wasn’t anything more than a one-night stand.

  Now all I ever need is going to be found in him.

  “Wait.” I catch my breath and try to swallow the air caught in my throat. “I don’t want to end up pregnant like Julie.”

  He chuckles and I hear him open something. The sound of rubber squeaks between his fingers. He doesn’t say a word as he forces my legs open and looks into my eyes once more for confirmation, just to be sure.

  “I want you, Brandon.” I lower my voice. “It’s okay…you don’t have to be scared.”

  He growls. “I’m not fucking scared.”

  His hard flesh pushes into me and I clutch onto his bare back for stability as our bodies buck on the purple bed. His thrusts get deeper and harder with each passing minute; the more he thinks about what he’s doing, the harder he pushes. I rake my nails across his flesh and he growls loudly, pushing me harder into the bed and moaning.

  I let him turn me over without pulling out of me, and he gathers my hair into his hands, pulling the tangled mess backward until he’s satisfied with the level of pain he’s giving me. It doesn’t hurt…not in a bad way, that is. Something shifts between us as he lets my hair free and grips my sides, pushing into me with more longing than frustration.

  I slide onto him and meet his every thrust until he turns me back around to face him. His eyes capture mine and he looks sad. My fingers reach up and touch his cheek; his eyes widen with surprise and a smile grows on his lips. “I want to do this right.”

  I giggle. “You’re doing it right.”

  “No.” His hair is matted to his forehead with sweat. “I want to do everything with you right. This isn’t right…not like this. I didn’t do things right before; I broke all the rules.”

  Rules.

  I frown. “I don’t live life by rules. This is what it is.”

  His lips lower onto my neck and he sucks it. “And what is this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His breath is hot on my skin and I want more; I can’t handle the games he’s playing right now…and screw whatever rules he wants me to follow. He slides back into me and I wrap my legs tightly around him so he can’t escape again. His body crumples into mine. He holds me as our bodies slide together, and when the room explodes…it explodes. The purple mess comes back into my view and the room is darkened by the night sky outside the open curtains.

  Once he catches his breath and notices that I’m smiling like a damn idiot, he rolls off me and kisses my shoulder. “You confuse the hell out of me.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but I can hear the smile on his own face.

  “How so?” I prop myself up on my elbow.

  “You tell me one thing and then do another—it’s very confusing. You say you don’t want to have sex, yet…” He sees the anger building in my eyes and kisses my lips. “Don’t get me wrong. That was…pretty damn good…but what if we’re both too messed up to make this work?”

  I snuggle into his body and sigh. “I’ve never been the girl who lets someone in all the way. Oliver and I never connected like you and I have without even trying. I think we both owe it to ourselves to try and make it work.”

  He yawns and grabs the purple comforter from the bottom of the bed, draping it over our naked bodies. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? I have to go to work early, but maybe we can have dinner after I get home.”

  He’s already asleep before I can muster up the courage to say anything else. He wants to talk tomorrow, and that’s all I can really hope for.

  I can’t expect him to be perfect when I’m nowhere near it either.

  I remember how my mother was when I was growing up: She slept around and the whole town talked about her like she was a piece of trash. My friends’ parents wouldn’t let me hang out with them anymore and all I had left were guys to keep me company.

  Just like her.

  I haven’t seen my mother since I left for New York; the last things she said to me never sat well with me, so I haven’t made the effort to reach out.

  “You go off and try and live a better life while I stay here and rot.” Her snarl echoes in my head. “You’ll be back—you’ll come crawling back, and then I’ll get to tell you I told you so.”

  I’m going to do everything I can not to have to return to her. I want to wake Brandon up and tell him all of my dirty, dark, and embarrassing secrets, but I know there’s a time and a place for that. This isn’t it. I like watching him sleep, though. He’s peaceful and sort of…beautiful.

  Not that any man likes to be called beautiful.

  In the early pictures of him with Julie, he’d looked like he’d stepped out of a Marilyn Manson concert or something; his overgrown, somewhat greasy black hair was the first indication that I’d never be caught dead talking to him if I’d met him sooner. I wonder what changed for him—when he started to take better care of himself and see his reflection in the mirror as something more valuable.

  We all have our demons—it’s how we choose to live with them that makes us who we are.

  Julie looked like a typical blonde and bubbly cheerleader, someone I would actually have been friends with in another life. Talking to Brandon about her and judging by the way Oliver fawns over her…I’m starting to feel a pull toward her too. There’s something about her that makes it damn near impossible to fully hate her guts, and that’s different for me. I know I want to hate her for snatching Oliver up and leaving Brandon, but in all reality, she’s a victim here too.

  Maybe we can all be friends someday.

  I smile. I know it’s a pipe dream, but when I’m finished soaking up all the good karma I can get…maybe I’ll work on being her friend next. A chill runs down my spine. I’ll have to be able to stand to look at her first, but I’m trying.

  I’m really trying.

  So, Brandon has rules of his own.

  I want to make this work.

  I have to live by his rules.

  Whatever they are.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Julie

  “Do you want some coffee?” the nurse asks me. I barely hear her; I’m thinking about something totally different and far away. “My shift ends in a few minutes and I can get you some.”

  I sniffle and look at her. She’s exhausted; her tired eyes are shaded and low. “Coffee would be wonderful, thank you.” I shiver in my seat and look at Oliver’s face. “It’s cold in here, right?”

  The nurse checks some machines next to him before walking to the thermostat on the wall. “Let me turn up the heat for you. Is that better?”

  I force a smile. “Much better, thanks.”

  The sound of her voice doesn’t compare to the silent echo that radiates from Oliver’s lifeless body in front of me. The fact that there’s absolutely nothing I can do for him makes me sick to my stomach. I wonder if Oliver can feel the warmth now spreading across the room, or even my hand that’s locked with his.

  The nurse smiles at me and leaves the room. I’m alone with him, and the silence is so chilling that I wish so hard that he’ll just pop his eyes open and come back to me. I don’t take a good look at his face or body in fear that I might hyperventilate at how mangled he really is. I force myself to push back his gown a little, but quickly put it back when I chicken out.

  I wrap my hand around his lifeless and cold fingers. I look at him and want to talk to him; I want him to tell me everything is going to be okay. I see him in my mind sitting across from me in the sunlight, a smirk on his face because I’ve done something to amuse him once again.

  “Well…” I choke and talk to him like he can hear me. “I’m here. It’s crazy you had to do something like this to get my attention.”

  Great, give him a guilt trip.

  I feel bad and squeeze his hand, hoping he squeezes back.

  He doesn’t.

  I close my eyes and listen to the silence.

  I don’t notice the door open and the nurse walk back in unti
l she holds out the cup of coffee in front of me. “Here you go.” I nearly jump out of my skin. “Whoa there, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Her tired eyes look down on me and I fake a smile. I take the coffee from her hands and put it on a small table next to me so it can cool off first. I notice her looking at Oliver’s body, trying to be nonchalant so I don’t see her.

  “Well, have a good night, okay? Mr. Jackson is in good hands, it seems. Dr. Osmond will be here in the morning—he’s the surgeon you requested—and he can begin trying to repair the tear in your husband’s lung.”

  She speaks of him like she knows him.

  The ventilator that’s helping him breathe makes a whooshing sound, making it hard to concentrate on my own thoughts. For a split second, I want to run. I’m only twenty-two—I’m not mature enough to be called someone’s wife, and I’m sure not mature enough to make life-or-death decisions for someone I only met a few months ago.

  Someone that I’m crazy in love with.

  Someone that’s crazy in love with me too.

  The nurse turns to me before leaving the room and makes it a point to smile at me. She’s so good at her job that she doesn’t have to search for things to say to someone like me—someone who’s literally hovering over her dying lover’s body.

  “Hey, just be with him, okay? He can hear you. You know how I can tell?” I follow her gaze to a small machine that isn’t making any sound, but an electric orange line steadies as we watch it. “Say something and keep your eye on that screen, okay?”

  I glue my eyes to the orange line on the screen. “What should I say?” I whisper, feeling the hot tears fall down my cheeks. The orange line jumps toward the top of the screen.

  I look over to her as she smirks. “He can hear you; he’s responding to your voice.”

  “My voice? Like he knows I’m here?” I don’t take my eyes off the screen as the orange line jumps toward the top again. My heart skips a few beats with excitement. I know she’s just telling me what I want to hear—this machine isn’t really a connection from him to me. “That’s him responding to my voice? That’s crazy…it’s like he’s here talking to us. I bet when the line goes up quicker, it’s one of his smart-ass remarks.”