Page 12 of Unspoken Rules

Six months later…

Exhausted doesn’t begin to cover how I feel when I climb out of the Blue Toyota. The chilly night air brushes across my skin, and I breathe it in. Being in my hometown is bittersweet. Haven’t been here in five years.

Lynncastor, Oregon. A modern suburb with a small town mindset.

“Thank you,” I say to the driver, closing the door and waving. The driver, a middle-aged woman who thankfully didn’t talk at all during the two-hour ride from my father’s, drives off. A notification from the app pops up, asking if I want to leave her a tip. After a $187.89 ride, I really can’t afford it, but I do it anyway because it isn’t her fault I’m broke.

When I close the app, I notice a ton of messages I missed during the ride. Probably from dozing off. I’m pretty sure my mental exhaustion is worse than the physical, and it’s going to take days for me to feel normal. Maybe even weeks. The time change alone is killer. Can’t say I’ve fully gotten used to it yet.

My father did a number on me this time, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never talk to him again. Though, what did I expect finally coming out to him? I was perfectly fine keeping my sexuality to myself, until he started going off about how the least I could do is marry a nice woman and give him grandkids, since my college education didn’t amount to a thing. The words “I’m gay” just tumbled out of my mouth. I knew I fucked up the moment I heard them. And truthfully, I’m not sure I can mentally handle replaying the things he said to me again. Not just now, but ever. It may actually be my breaking point.

With a heavy sigh, I click on the message app, and see only two people have messaged me. Concerning, considering there are nineteen texts. Not surprised when I see eighteen of them are from Daniel—my ex. Daniel doesn’t understand the term broken up. I even tried no longer dating and you are single. Didn’t understand those either. I’m sure he knows exactly what I’m saying, and this is just another gaslighting technique, considering it’s his favorite pastime. I feel bad for the next sucker who falls into his trap. We should be able to leave reviews on people the way we leave them on products. It would save a lot of time, energy, and heartache.

I do not have the mental energy to deal with Daniel, so I don’t open the thread.

I click on the text from Chris, because it could be something important. I am standing in front of his house, after all.

Chris: Won’t be home when you get there. House should be empty, just grab the spare key in the back and let yourself in. Can’t wait to see you later, bro!

I glance up at his house, a heavy weight settling in my stomach. I can’t believe I’m here.

After the completely unbelievable-but-amazing night with Cole Harper six months ago, I’ve done everything I can to avoid coming here. Which meant staying with my father for far too long. Six long months of ass-kissing, tip-toeing, fighting, and being degraded for basically breathing. But I’m done. I am so done. Especially after last night when he told me his life would have been so much easier had I not been born because his wife would still be alive. The man has said terrible things to me over the years, but I think that takes the cake. I hate myself for wanting to scream back that she killed herself because of him and not me. I also hate myself for not having the balls to actually say it. Though, I doubt my words would mess with his head the way his mess with mine. So it would have just been wasted breath.

The anxiety over seeing Cole cannot be worse than the torment and misery I get from Bart Montgomery. My worry about Cole will go away. Whatever embarrassment, shame, or whatever it is, will disappear. Chris assured me Cole was aware I was coming and didn’t care that I’d be here. So, there’s no reason for me to care if he doesn’t. If he’s okay with it; I’m okay with it. I haven’t spoken to Cole since that night in Astoria, which is a subject I’d rather not think about considering I have to live with the man now. But…

One night wasn’t nearly enough. Waking up alone the next morning spoke volumes, though. I got his message loud and clear. One night was all I was getting. There wouldn’t be anything more. I’ve regretted that night for a million reasons since.

The house doesn’t look much different from the outside, but I know Cole has done a ton of work on the inside. Chris sent me some pictures when it was newly finished, but I doubt it does Cole’s work justice. The man has a talent.

As much as I love my best friend and am thrilled to see him, I’m grateful he isn’t here. I can go inside and get to sleep. It’s the only thing my body wants right now. I won’t be surprised if I go to sleep tonight and don’t wake up for three days.

Chris said the house is empty, so I can only assume that means Cole isn’t here—even though I’m pretty sure that’s his truck in the driveway. Maybe he got picked up or used a rideshare.

I pick up my one suitcase that holds all my belongings and head around the back of the house. The automatic lights go on as I walk by, and I smile when I step into the spacious yard. A tall white privacy fence stands around the perimeter. There is a large patio with a hot tub and an in-ground pool that were not here the last time I was. There was a pool, but it was above ground and much smaller. Above the patio is a balcony that is also new and runs off Cole’s bedroom—if they still have the same rooms. The shed to my left, though, sitting in the very back corner of the yard, still looks the same as I last remember—like it’s about to cave in. It stands out like a sore thumb.

Why the hell hasn’t he fixed this thing up?

I trudge to the back of the shed, pulling out my phone to use the flashlight since the lights don’t reach this far. Spotting the cracked plant pot that Christopher made in middle school, I lift it and pull the key that’s taped to the bottom of it before putting it back in its place. I take a moment to look at the carvings etched into the shed shingles and laugh to myself.

Christopher rulez!

Bryson is badazz!

Tits, tits, tits!

I laugh louder at the last one. If I only knew then what I know now…

With a shake of my head, I put my phone in my pocket, grab my suitcase, and head toward the house. Light from the inside has me stopping dead in my tracks. That room was not lit up seconds ago when I walked by. The floor-to-ceiling paned glass windows make it easy to see inside, and I see why the privacy fence is needed. Built-in shelves full of books, a desk with a computer and rolling chair. There’s an antique globe in the corner and a large vintage map hanging on the wall above the desk.

It’s none of those things that have my breath caught in my throat, though. Not a single one of those things that have my heart pounding. It’s the man inside, walking around in nothing but a white towel tightly wrapped around his narrow waist. The sight is so familiar and has too many emotions running through me.

Cole Harper. Tanned skin, muscled torso, strong arms.

His dark hair is still wet, messily swiped back.

I close my eyes and take a breath, recalling the shower we shared together and how good it felt when he washed me. Nothing about it was sexual, but it satisfied parts of me I didn’t know needed tending to.

Can’t do this, Bryson.

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