Page 28 of Unspoken Rules

He turns around. “What do you mean?”

“The truck? Paying for breakfast. You’re already letting me stay here.”

“I don’t mind, Bryson. It’s not a big deal.”

He holds my gaze, waiting for my response. He knows I’m going to keep arguing, and nothing on his face tells me not to. Which is interesting, because sometimes he does get that look.

“I’ll put gas in it,” I offer.

“Don’t have to do that either.”

“Why are you helping me so much?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m not your kid.”

He flinches, and I regret it immediately. It wasn’t meant to be a dig at him, but more toward my father. I want to open my mouth and say that, but he speaks before I can.

“You don’t have to be my blood for me to care about you, Bryson.” He steps closer to me, putting his hands on my shoulders and looking into my eyes. “Sometimes people go through tough times that aren’t their fault. I want to be the person I wish I had when I was going through mine.”

I huff out a disbelieving laugh. “You went through bad times?”

He stands straighter, dropping his hands from me and looking past me for a moment. “I honestly thought you’d have heard all about it from Chris.”

I frown, digging through my memories to figure out what the hell he’s talking about.

“The divorce?” I question.

He shakes his head, takes a deep breath and goes to the freezer to pull out a bag of frozen shrimp. “That was one part of it,” he begins. “But there’s been more than one instance. Maybe it didn’t bother Chris as much as I think it did.”

“Guess not.”

“Anyway, I don’t care about the truck. Take as much time as you need tomorrow. But if you want to do me a favor, you can pick me up from work.”

“Yes! Definitely. I will definitely do that.”

He chuckles as he rips open the bag and pours the contents into a large bowl. He fills it with cold water and puts it into the fridge to defrost.

“Fine,” he says, washing his hands. He grabs a towel to wipe them, turning to face me. “Two o’clock later, right?”

“Right,” I say as he walks by me to leave the kitchen.

I follow him but stop in the doorway.

“See you then.” He winks before heading toward his office. My heart does a damn flip in my chest.

Chapter Twelve

Bryson

Cole gets home a few minutes after two. I’ve spent the last hour pacing around my room, trying to calm my nerves about this meeting. It’s only Cole, but it’s a good way to practice my professionalism. If I go into this thinking he’s a client, and not my best friend’s dad, it’ll help me tomorrow when I speak with other people. Freelance isn’t easy, but it’s my best shot. Trying to get something long-term is going to take more time. If I can do a bunch of quick jobs while actively looking for something permanent, it’s a step in the right direction. Not only is it income, but it’s practice and adds experience to my belt. More things I can put on a resume.

I spent the morning brainstorming ideas for Cole and drew up a logo I think is suited for him. Hopefully he agrees.

I give Cole a few minutes to get settled before I bombard him. When I head downstairs, I find him in his office, sitting at his desk. I knock on the door, and he looks up.

With a smirk, he says, “You’re late.”

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