Page 172 of Unspoken Rules

“Thanks,” I say proudly. “It’s coming together. There was nothing in here when I got it, so...”

He nudges me with his elbow. “It’s so you.”

He drops onto the couch just as the kettle whistles, so I go finish my tea. Once it’s done, I take my mug and sit beside him, setting it on the coffee table atop the ceramic coaster.

“Not that I’m ungrateful you’re here, but why are you here? Why didn’t you call?”

He grins at me for a long moment before saying, “Figured you’d like a surprise.”

“I don’t hate it.” I stare at him, then shake my head, unable to believe he’s here. “You were the last thing I was expecting when I opened that door. How long are you staying?” I reach for my tea but pause halfway when he speaks.

“Not sure yet.”

“You’re taking an indefinite vacation? Why? Did you and Cole have a fight?”

He holds my gaze, a strange smile on his lips. I have no idea what it means or why he’s looking at me like that.

“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” he says casually, shrugging a shoulder.

My stomach sinks. “What would you call it?” I ask carefully.

Chris rests back against the couch and looks upwards. He waves an arm in the air as if he’s trying to find the right word, until he says, “A heart to heart.”

Okay, this is strange.

“About?”

He turns toward me, and he’s still smiling. It’s kind of creepy now. I’ve never seen this sort of smile on his face. “You.”

The breath catches in my lungs. I blink a few times but hold Chris’s stare. He doesn’t look angry. Doesn’t look happy either. He’s just… there.

“Me?” I finally manage to get out.

Chris turns his gaze back to the ceiling, his jaw working. The words that come out of his mouth next would have me flat on my ass if I were standing.

“I remember.”

He remembers? How much? What? Everything? Why is he so calm? Is he here to beat the shit out of me? He looked like he wanted to last time, maybe now he will.

“Chill, Bryson. I’m not mad.”

Why can I hear him but not see him? Why can’t I see anything?

My chest hurts. I think I’m having a heart attack.

“Bryson, relax.”

There’s his voice again.

A hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, look at me.” Chris gives me a little shake. I jerk my head up and meet his concerned gaze, blinking a few times. “You good?”

I shake my head, jerking out of his grasp and getting to my feet. I swallow hard and focus on breathing.

“You remember?” I choke out. He nods once. “When?”

He sighs, sitting up straight and running a hand through his hair. As I wait for him to answer, I think I’m going to die. I fight off the panic, but it’s not easy.

---