Page 14 of Unspoken Rules

He points a finger at me, raising a brow. “For one, forty-seven is not old. And for two, nothing’s changed. It’s just work.”

Which reminds me of him dressed in the fancy suit in Astoria…

“Work stuff?”

He nods, moving into the hallway.

“Started doing lots of stuff to get the company name out there to find work outside of Lynncastor. You know? Like actual cities. We donate tools and lumber to the high schools, drop off food at the shelter once a week, and sponsor the little league team. All that business shit that’s supposed to make us likable.” He pauses by the stairs, turning to me. My eyes dip to his waist and I instantly pull them back up, hoping he did not see that. Nothing on his face tells me he did, but he has one of the best poker faces I’ve ever seen. “Don’t wanna rush out of here, but I need to finish getting ready. I’m already late.”

“It’s fine. I’ll find my way around.” I gesture for him to go up the stairs.

He holds my gaze. I expect him to break it and go upstairs, but he moves toward me instead, stopping inches away.

I forgot how blue his eyes are. They look fake, that’s how crystal blue they are. Like the ocean around a tropical island. Mesmerizing. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I force myself to blink. To breathe. He looks bigger. More toned and firm. Like he’s been working out or something.

My fingers itch to tear the towel from him and drop to my knees. Would he let me? Stop me? Nothing could be more stupid than that. Right here, in his house? In the hallway, no less? I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way his large hand burns my skin through my shirt.

“I’m glad you’re here, Bryson,” he says softly.

I will not take that the wrong way. He’s only being nice. Appropriate. His words hold nothing but innocent happiness over me being like a son to him for so long.

That. Is. It.

When he doesn’t pull away, I respond with, “Thanks for letting me stay here, Cole. My father is—”

“Difficult?” he asks, huffing out a laugh. He drops his hand and runs it through his hair. I want to do that. Want my hands in his hair. “Yeah, I know all about it.”

I frown, wanting to ask what he means, but he turns and heads up the stairs, calling out, “You know where your room is. Feel free to tour the house.”

Standing in place, I take a few moments to get my head on straight. I can’t believe I’m here. I did everything I could so this wouldn’t happen, but then life happened. And fuck life already. It’s nothing but a pain in my ass.

With a heavy sigh, I move down the hallway, leaning my suitcase against the wall by the stairs before glancing across the hall into the kitchen. The layout is the same but with updated cabinets, paint-job, flooring, and appliances. Cole seems to be sticking with a white and grey theme, but there are splashes of black in the kitchen. Like the table and chair set, curtains, and speckled backsplash along the counters.

I continue down the hallway, browsing the photos along the walls. So many of Chris from when he was a kid. Even family photos from before Cole and Tabitha divorced. The hallway opens up into a spacious living room on the left, the bathroom in the far back. To the right of the hallway is a small nook with built-in shelves on the walls, a coat rack, and a chaise that looks like it’s never been touched.

What used to be worn-out hardwood floors and dented door frames are now a mix of spotless grey floors, cream carpets, white walls, dark grey trim and molding.

Heavy steps on the stairs pull my attention behind me, and I practically drool when Cole comes around the corner.

Tight fitted jeans, brown boots, and a blue plaid button up with the sleeves rolled up. Good gods, the universe hates me.

“Eat anything you like, though there isn’t much. I cleaned out your room the other day, so do what you want with it. It’s yours as long as you need,” he says as he walks by, barely giving me a glance.

“Should only be a month or two,” I say as he grabs his keys from the hook by the front door.

“And if it ends up being longer, it’s okay,” he says sternly over his shoulder.

I nod, chewing on my bottom lip. I hate that people feel the need to take care of me. It’s such an inner battle I have with myself, because I want someone to care enough about me to take care of me, but I don’t want them to feel obligated to do it. All that does is make me feel like a burden, and I don’t want to be a burden on anyone. I want to be wanted.

“See you later,” he calls out before leaving. Seconds later, the rumble of his truck sounds.

I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly.

This is the only place you have to stay, Bryson. Don’t fuck it up by being weird with Cole.

Much easier said than done, apparently.

What happened is in the past. It’s done and over with. It will never happen again—it can’t. I need to act normal, especially in front of Chris. I refuse to go back to my father’s. I’ll lose my mind if I do. The plan is to stay here, take a few days to get my head straight, then hunt for a job. After a month, I’ll have saved enough money to get my own place. Simple. As long as I stick to the plan. The plan which does not include Cole’s genitals anywhere near me.

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