Page 60 of Unspoken Rules

“You’re what?” he whisper-shouts, getting to his feet and gesturing at me. “You better not say something negative about yourself. Tell me you aren’t good enough or some stupid shit like that. Because honestly, Bryson, I’m tired of hearing it. How do you not see how amazing you are? Do I not tell you enough?”

A choked sound comes out of me as I try to find words. “What? You do. It’s just—”

I’m not sure what to say to that. He tells me all the time. He’s the only one who does—who ever has. The only person who keeps my head above water. Without him, I’d drown.

“It’s hard to believe after dealing with my father for so long, is all. I’m just me, and you’re—” I gesture up and down his body. “Cole Harper.”

Cole shakes his head, watching me for a long moment.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” he mutters before quickly leaving my room.

I stare out the door for a long fucking time, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Bryson

I spend all of Monday morning and most of the afternoon in bed, sleeping on and off. Tossing and turning. Driving myself absolutely crazy because my head won’t stop thinking about this stuff with Cole and Chris. So I force myself to keep sleeping even though I’m not tired, but at least when I’m sleeping I can’t overthink this shit.

When I get out of bed around two, the house is quiet since both Chris and Cole are at work. I can’t begin to explain how stupid I feel. Yet all of that is mixed with how upset I am over pissing off Cole. Not only pissing him off but disappointing him. I’ve thought about it too many times, and Cole isn’t mad I stopped him. I know him well enough to know he isn’t like that. This isn’t about me turning him down for sex. It’s something more. Something else. It was stupid of me to attempt anything with him while he was hurting so badly. He was vulnerable and instead of being the bigger person; I swooped in like a desperate whore.

I want to send him an apology text, but I’m too embarrassed. So instead, I do what I should have done last night, and text Chris.

Obviously my focus has been on the wrong person the entire time I’ve been here. Cole isn’t the one I need to worry about. It’s Chris. He’s been going through something for a while, which I’ve known since day one. Yet all I’ve done is stress about his father. What kind of friend am I? Chris let me stay here when I had nowhere else to go. He’s been there for me my whole life. I can’t ruin this relationship with him.

I text him to ask if he’s okay, and stare at the screen, waiting for a reply. When I don’t get a response after a few minutes, I head downstairs to eat something. I’m not surprised when I find two plates made up with breakfast. One for me. One for Chris. But, out of spite, Chris didn’t eat the food Cole made for him.

Mealtimes have always been important to Cole, and Chris is well aware that it pisses Cole off when he ignores them. Especially when he goes out of his way to make him a plate. More than once I’ve found untouched food that was made for Chris. When Cole gets home, he cleans it up without a word.

But today, I clean up Chris’s plate because the less there is to make Cole feel bad, the better.

I eat my food and wash the dishes. I do some laundry and go around the house looking for things to clean because I need to do something. But no matter how much I get done, I can’t shake the feeling of being an asshole.

When the front door opens, I hold my breath, unsure of who will step through the door. When Chris walks in, I’m relieved.

“Hey,” I call from the living room. “I texted you earlier.”

“Phone’s dead,” he grunts, making his way into the room and sitting on the couch beside me. His head falls back, and he closes his eyes.

“I was hoping we could go grab dinner? My treat.”

He huffs out a laugh, rolling his head to look at me. “You’re broke.”

I’ll try not to be offended by that…

“I have money in the bank.”

It isn’t a lot, but there is some there.

“Not enough to be buying me dinner. We can go, but I’m paying for it.”

“I can afford dinner,” I argue.

He slaps me on the leg and gets up. “Don’t argue with me, Bry. Let’s go. I’m starving.”

I turn off the TV and get to my feet. We head for the front door, but before Chris can open it, Cole walks in. He stops, his wide-eyed gaze going from Chris to me, and back to Chris again.

I feel like a deer in headlights as I stand here wondering what’s going to happen. It’s like a standoff and I feel like we’ve been here for far too long. Who will draw their gun first?

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