Forgotten Rules: A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Eliah Greenwood

  Shiitt.

  “Fuck,” he rasps against my mouth, slowly curling a finger in and out of me. “I need you, Kass. I need you so fucking bad. Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  I know it’s probably just the alcohol talking, but the way he says it… It punches me in the feels.

  He’s talking about my text, isn’t he?

  “Will, you’re not yourself. Y-You need to sober up.”

  “I don’t want to sober up.” He picks up the pace, easing a second finger inside me effortlessly and winning over a moan I kept locked up. His mouth connects with my neck, paying extra care to my collarbone, and I scold my body for disobeying my brain. I can feel his length digging into my thigh. “I want to fuck you so hard I forget what you did. I don’t want to be angry anymore. Let me forget,” he begs, withdrawing his fingers and flipping my T-shirt over my bare chest. I didn’t bother putting on a bra earlier. He grunts at the view, sucking my right nipple into his mouth with such pressure that my back arches.

  This can’t be happening.

  Not like this.

  “Will, we can’t.” Heaven only knows how I find the resolve to push him away. My body pulsing with desire, I carry myself off the mattress, panting like I just ran a marathon. He stares as I smooth my T-shirt back down, putting much-needed distance between us.

  He scoffs. “Right, I forgot… You gave up on me.”

  Is he joking?

  “Stop saying that. That’s not true.”

  “Please.” He drops onto his back. “One peek into my life and you fucking ran. Then you wonder why I kept the truth from you.”

  “I didn’t run! You pushed me away.”

  Did he not get my gazillion texts this week?

  He completely ignores me. “It’s fine. Can’t say that I blame you. She should’ve run, too.”

  His voice decreases into a mumble.

  “Then maybe she’d still be here.”

  I can’t keep my nerves under control.

  “Who?” I sit on the bed. “Who would still be here?”

  The answer comes to me.

  “Lyla?” My voice wavers.

  Is she dead? Is that what he’s saying?

  He doesn’t deny nor confirm my suspicions, pinching his eyes shut as though he can’t bear for me to see him like this.

  “It’s all my fault.” He sounds pained.

  “What is?”

  “She trusted me. And I betrayed her.”

  “What’s your fault, Will?” I insist.

  “God, I… I wanted to be mad at you, Kass. I tried. I tried so fucking hard this week,” he rambles. “What you did… It’s not okay, but then… Then you send me one text. One stupid text that sounds like I’m losing you and I’m right back to…” He clamps his lips together, scolding himself for saying too much—feeling too much.

  His red, exhausted blue eyes find mine.

  “And I thought I would never forgive myself, but when I’m with you… I do. For that one, blissful second, I don’t feel guilty anymore. And I hate it. I hate that I’m happy. I shouldn’t… I don’t deserve it.”

  I don’t have the slightest idea of what he’s going on about, but I decide to play along. “That’s normal, Will. It’s hard to move on after losing someone and Lyla.” Her name leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. “She was important to you, wasn’t she?”

  He doesn’t reply for the longest time. I secure his hand into mine, interlacing our fingers.

  “Yeah, she was,” he admits.

  The confirmation hurts a tad more than expected.

  “But with you,” he rasps, his eyes falling closed. “With you, it’s different.”

  “How am I different?”

  He releases my hand, his answers growing apart. His body twitches with spasms, a clear indicator that he’s drifting off to sleep. Then, seconds before he passes out…

  He says something that splits my heart in two.

  “You’re different because I love you.”

  Kassidy

  I didn’t sleep a wink after he said it.

  I lay in Morgan’s bed for three hours. Tossing. Turning. Overthinking. Not that my best friend minded. She never made it up to her room. Pretty sure she spent the night on the couch with Alex.

  I must’ve asked myself a million questions—Did he mean it? Was that the alcohol speaking? Is he going to remember any of this tomorrow?—all of which had the same answer: Only time will tell.

  It’s past ten when I drag my exhausted, zombie-looking ass down the stairs to quench my thirst. I assume I’m the first one up by the complete absence of noise in Morgan’s house. Passing through the living room, I find Morgan and Alex asleep on the pull-out couch, snuggled up together.

  I crack a smile.

  Her thank-you better be epic.

  I pad into the kitchen, flinching at the sun shining through the bay window, and down a glass of water. Then I make coffee. Resting my elbows against the counter, I sip on my espresso, listening to the only audible sound in the house: cars driving by.

  Will’s voice pops into my head. You’re different because I love you. What I wouldn’t give to hear him say that when he’s sober.

  “Morning.”

  I jerk in surprise, a splash of coffee flying out of my cup and onto the kitchen counter. Will stands behind me, in last night’s outfit, his hair a tousled mess, and his eyes rimmed with his lack of sleep.

  “Hey… you’re up,” I state, but it comes out as a question. Even pale and exhausted, he looks like that. How?

  Freaking how?

  “Unfortunately,” he groans, edging farther into the room and wincing at the light as I did. “Damn, that’s a lot of sun.”

  I smile.

  “How are you feeling?” I grab a mug out of the cabinet and pour him a coffee.

  “Stupid, hungover, embarrassed. Want me to keep going?”

  I chuckle. “I get the idea.”

  He makes his way over. “I’m sorry. Whatever happened last night, I’m an idiot.”

  Disappointment tugs at my heart.

  “You don’t remember?” I hand him his coffee.

  “Not a thing. It’s all a big blur.”

  There goes his love declaration.

  In contrast to the first time he pulled that amnesia prank on me, I actually believe him. He could barely walk last night. And the things he shared… he would’ve never told me had he been sober.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” I ask.

  “I remember Alex and I sneaking into a bar. Your text.”

  That damn text.

  If I’d known how he would react, I would’ve never sent it.

  “Then we got blackout drunk and… I’m guessing if Alex had to call you to come get my ass, I did something stupid?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  He exhales. “Lay it on me.”

  “You may have gotten into a fight or two.”

  “And?” He knows there’s more.

  “And almost gotten arrested,” I cave.

  He cringes.

  “Well, thanks for saving me, control freak.”

  “Anytime, Willy.”

  This is weird.

  How he was kissing the breath out of me just last night, telling me how much he needs me, and now… I don’t have a clue as to where we stand. Is he still mad at me? Are we still on the outs?

  “Nice hoodie, by the way.” He gestures.

  I flush in realization.

  It’s his.

  I wear it to sleep every night lately.

  I fiddle with the fabric. “Oh, right. Did you want it back?”

  Please say no.

  “Depends…” He eyes my lips. “Do I get you back, too?”

  My heart flutters.

  “I—”

  “Don’t talk to me. I need coffee.” Morgan comes streaming through the door the next second.

  A shirtless Alex follows close behind. Chasing after her.

  “Morgan, wait.
Hear me out, please,” Alex begs, his green eyes small from having just woken up.

  Weren’t these two cuddling two minutes ago? What did the poor bastard do in two minutes?

  “Just go, okay? It’s too early for this, and I’m tutoring in forty-five minutes.” Morgan acts unfazed, but I see right through her.

  She’s hurt.

  “Not happening. Either you listen to me, or I’m camping on your goddamn porch until you do.”

  Morgan stares at him, calling his bluff.

  “Don’t test me, James. I’ll go buy a tent right now,” he warns.

  I can’t help grinning at his threat. Even when they’re fighting, I’m rooting for them. Will clears his throat as a reminder that they have an audience, and Morgan sighs.

  “Five minutes. Outside,” she says.

  Alex’s shoulders drop in relief. He directs Morgan to the balcony, shutting the door on his way out and leaving me alone with Will. My hopes of picking up where we left off are shattered by my phone buzzing in my pocket.

  It’s the alarm I set last night.

  Work at 11:30, it says.

  “Shit, I have to be at work in an hour. I need a shower. Talk later?” I hurry up the stairs without awaiting his reply. I want nothing more than to mend my broken relationship, but I’d also like to keep my job.

  I scurry inside Morgan’s bedroom, kneeling down on the hardwood floor and shuffling through my overnight bag for an outfit. Then I jog down the stairs, a tad disappointed when I zoom by the kitchen and see that Will is gone. I rush into the first-floor bathroom, turn the shower on, and tug Will’s large hoodie over my head.

  A voice flares behind me.

  “Not that I’m not enjoying the show, but…”

  I nearly scream and spin on my heels to find Will leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest—thank God for my T-shirt. One more second and he would’ve seen everything.

  “Will? What the fuck?” I shriek.

  He smirks, blue eyes raking over my body unapologetically. He’s casual, relaxed, like sneaking into Morgan’s bathroom and surprising me mid-stripping is a walk in the park to him.

  “I thought you left.”

  He shrugs. “I didn’t.”

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “We weren’t done talking.” He pushes off the wall, stalking toward me with that carnal look in his eyes.

  I know that look.

  Normally, I’d love that look.

  Especially seeing as I’m dying to make things right between us, but I can’t do this right now. I can’t be late to work. I step backward, which only incites him to move closer.

  “Now, where were we?” He stops to think. “Right, I was about to do this.”

  He shocks me with a desperate, needy kiss, cupping my face and sealing our opened scars with a single move. His lips rain down on mine, dispatching shivers all over my body. I’m not going to pretend I don’t kiss him back. Or that I put up the semblance of a fight—I don’t. I allow his tongue into my mouth, welcome it, and lose myself into his arms, this kiss, this moment.

  I lose myself, trying to find him.

  An oxygen shortage tears us apart, and I’m left with nothing but the aftermath of his touch: a racing heart, erratic breathing.

  This lust.

  And one burning question.

  “Does that mean you forgive me?” I clasp his shirt into my fist, drawing a long, conflicted breath out of him.

  He nods.

  “I forgive you.”

  I smile, over the moon.

  He presses his forehead to mine. “What you did was fucked-up, but I can’t blame you for wanting to know more about me. I haven’t exactly been an open book, and… frankly, if I’d received a text saying you were staying at some motel, I would’ve gone and checked, too.”

  His admission relieves me.

  Is he finally ready to open up to me?

  “In that case, I have questions.”

  He sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets.

  “I figured you would. Which is why I got Ethan to cover your shift.”

  “What?” I pull back. “How?”

  Ethan hates working on weekends. Will must’ve spun him one hell of a tale.

  “Told him you were feeding the homeless, which, in a way, you are.”

  What on earth?

  “Come on, hop in the shower, put on something pretty. I have to go get my car. Pick you up in an hour.” He dashes toward the exit.

  “That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what we’re doing?”

  I watch him swing the door open, dumbfounded.

  “You wanted to see my life, didn’t you?”

  He shoulder-checks me.

  “Well, I’m taking you right into it.”

  Kassidy

  Will briefs me on our plans for the day halfway to our secret destination. Turns out when he told me we were feeding the homeless, he meant…

  Having lunch with his mom.

  I scold him for his crude comparison, swatting him in the arm and kindling the following reply: “Trust me, if I didn’t laugh about it, I wouldn’t last a day.”

  I understand him better now. The jokes, the snarky replies. He uses humor as a defense mechanism. I replay his words, picking them apart one by one.

  “If your mom is homeless, where are we meeting her?”

  He shifts in the driver’s seat, taking a right. “Well, technically, she isn’t homeless. Just doesn’t have a permanent address. She’s crashing at a friend’s trailer until the beginning of the summer.”

  “Then where will she go?”

  “I’m sure she’ll find something. Bounce around between places for a while, probably.” He shrugs as though this is old news.

  And it is.

  To him, at least.

  That’s his life. Has been since he was a kid.

  “I take it you don’t live together?”

  He scoffs. “Fuck no. I’d lose my mind. She stayed in my motel room last weekend, and I nearly went off my rocker just from that.”

  The truth sinks into my stomach like an anchor. This explains why he had to leave early. He was checking on her.

  “So, you live in motels?”

  All this time, whenever he left, I imagined him going back to a picture-perfect house. Thought he had a nice, comfy place to lay his head. A home. And all this time, he didn’t.

  “Mostly, yeah. Depends how tight the money is. I spent the past month at some abandoned gym where the guys and I train.”

  His unbothered attitude is unsettling—disturbing. He says it like it’s normal, while I want to cry just imagining him freezing in an abandoned building.

  “Don’t,” he says in a husky voice.

  My head snaps up.

  “Don’t look at me like that. Please.”

  Shit.

  Be more transparent, why don’t you, Kass?

  His jaw twitches. “If you pity me, then I’ll start pitying myself, and I… I can’t go there.”

  “I’m sorry.” I blink back tears.

  I can’t help my trembling lip.

  He winces at my bloodshot eyes. “Baby, stop. I’m fine, I promise.” His right hand leaves the wheel, enclosing mine. “I never go hungry, I have clothes, a phone, a car. The fights pay well, and as soon as my mom gets her shit together, I’ll be able to afford a place. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

  I recall what he said to his mother at the motel: “You drained everything! Four fucking grand. Gone in a matter of days!”

  Does he pay for her… substances?

  “So, you give your winnings from every fight to your mom?”

  “Yeah, I keep a third of it, but she needs it more than I do.”

  I hate how angry that makes me. I tell myself I’m in no place to judge, but I can’t quiet the nagging voice in my head. Let me get this straight—a grown-ass woman is living on her eighteen-year-old’s son back? And she squanders the money he brings home on drugs?

 
Once again, he reads me like an open book.

  “I know how this sounds, but she just needs a push to get her life back on track. She’s trying.”

  “So, she has a job?” I question.

  “Not yet, but she’s looking. She promised me she would.”

  Everything about this screams toxic to me, but I keep my mouth shut, strictly refusing to form an opinion on his mother until I give her a chance.

  “Do the guys know about this?”

  His features darken at the mention of his friends. “Only Kendrick does. I’m not close enough with Alex to tell him.”

  I often forget how close these two are.

  “We’re almost there.” He changes the topic, leading my left hand to his mouth to lay a kiss on my knuckles as he drives.

  We pull into an isolated trailer park five minutes later, driving down a bumpy, narrow road. I watch as mobile homes flow past the car windows, some in better shape than others, the majority run-down and decrepit. I know better than to think all trailer parks are poorly maintained, but this one fits square into the stereotype.

  Will’s car comes to a stop in front of a worn-out, white trailer addressed 50. A metallic gray car sits in the driveway, making Will pause. He frowns, killing the engine and narrowing his eyes to catch a glimpse of the license plate.

  “What the…” I hear him say.

  That’s when a man stumbles out of the trailer, a beer in his left hand. He inspects his surroundings like a criminal.

  “Stay in the car,” Will spits, the frost in his voice making it clear he’s not asking and rushes out of the vehicle without so much as a warning. I roll the window down just in time to hear him bark, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  The drunk stranger, who’s swaying down the trailer’s steps, heaves a throaty laugh at the sight of Will charging toward him.

  “Long time, kid.”

  “Answer the fucking question, Steve.”

  “Just paying your mom a visit.”

  “Where is she?” Will blurts, fear lacing his tone.

  “Inside. I wouldn’t bother her. She’s… resting.”

  Then the man zips up his pants.

  My blood freezes over.

  The man laughs again, tipping his beer back for a sip. Except the bottle never meets his lips. Will snatches the beer out of his hands, launching it against the trailer at full strength. I shriek as the glass shatters into a million pieces. I unbuckle my seat belt and reach for the car handle, ready to go over there.