Page 23 of Unspoken Rules

He’s right. He did do those things—and always held it over my head too.

“I never asked you to do that.”

“Exactly. I did it because I wanted to. Meaning it meant more.”

Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I sitting through this bullshit? I don’t have to. There is nothing making me listen to the shit he’s saying.

“I have to go.”

“What could you possibly have to do at two in the morning?” he argues.

“Sleep.”

“You sound wide awake.”

I huff out a sigh and look upwards. “I’m hanging up.”

“If you hang up on me, we’re done.”

I’ve been trying to break up with you for a fucking year.

“Hope that’s a promise.”

I end the call and let out a long sigh. Life will get better. I’m going to make it better. That’s why I’m here. Why I moved across the country. I’m going to find a job, get my shit together, and make my life something worth living. The last thing I need to worry about is a boyfriend. Especially a gaslighting ex who can’t move the hell on.

“Everything okay?” I whirl around, spotting Cole standing on the patio, hands in the pockets of his grey joggers. The white t-shirt hugs every inch of him, and I swear I can make out the dips of his abs. There’s a slight frown on his face and I know he knows the answer to the question before I give it.

I hold my phone up. “Just ex-boyfriend problems.”

He gives me a knowing nod. “You really should be more confident in yourself, Bryson.”

My chest tightens. I hate that he sees me.

Really sees me.

Sees how I hide. Avoid. Self-sabotage and destruct.

And maybe it’s because I’ve been drinking, but I answer more honestly than I should.

Or maybe it’s relief over knowing there is someone in this world who knows the real me. Sees past the facade I put on every single day. It’s tiring. So fucking tiring.

“I used to be. Not really sure what happened.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t let people walk all over you.”

I huff. “No point in not allowing it. I’ve been a doormat since the day I was born.”

Cole moves toward me quickly. He grabs my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. My mouth goes dry, the memory of me between his legs popping into my head. The last thing in the world I need to think about right now is that night. Not while I’m this intoxicated. This hurt and vulnerable over Daniel being an ass. Over my father being an ass. When I’m feeling low, I do stupid things. Because I’m not thinking right.

“Don’t say shit like that, Bryson,” Cole rasps out.

I search his eyes; the moonlight glinting off them, making them appear almost clear. They’re so fucking beautiful.

“It’s just how I feel,” I whisper, hating how weak the words are.

But loving how I can be so open with Cole and not a single part of me worries he’ll judge me for it or use it against me.

Cole slides his hands to my shoulders.

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