Page 149 of Unspoken Rules

“Even if it’s late, and you need to come back, just come here, okay? Knock on my window. It’ll wake me.”

I pat her on the head, and she laughs. “I will.”

“Will you come back for the holidays?” she asks.

I shrug. “Maybe? If not, we’ll make plans. Maybe we can go on vacation somewhere else?”

She smiles. “That’s actually a good idea.”

I make sure I have all my stuff, give her one last hug, then head to Cole’s.

Chapter Sixty-Three

Bryson

I sit in the driveway for a long time before I go inside. The front door is unlocked, and Cole is sitting in the living room watching TV when I walk in. He gets up right away.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.”

We stare at each other until he says, “You know where your room is. I haven’t touched anything. All your stuff is still where you left it.”

I nod once. “Thanks.”

His gaze burns into the back of my head as I walk down the hallway. Before heading up, I glance into the kitchen and almost fall flat on my ass when I see the state it’s in.

It’s a fucking disaster.

There are takeout food containers everywhere. Pizza boxes piled to the cabinets. Dirty dishes overflowing the sink.

And the smell… don’t even get me started on the smell.

I glance over my shoulder, but Cole must have gone back to the couch.

How dare the universe make me a good human and give me a shitty life.

I go upstairs, put my stuff away, then head into the kitchen and start cleaning. There is no way I can leave this like this. Cole is struggling, and I have to help him. I’ve never, and I mean never, seen the kitchen look anything close to this before. Hell, Cole never even let the garbage get too full.

It doesn’t take long for Cole to come in. “What are you doing?” he asks carefully.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

I shove a pizza box into the large black trash bag. There was still half a pizza in there, but it was hard as a rock. Who knows how long it’s been sitting here?

“Don’t come here and clean,” he says. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Cole, don’t tell me what to do. If you don’t like it, just get out.” I wave him off tiredly.

He frowns, but I ignore him and go back to what I’m doing.

Eventually, he sighs and starts to help me.

“You don’t need to do this. I’m capable of cleaning,” I tell him.

“Well, it’s my mess.”

“Exactly,” I grumble, turning to face him. “It’s a mess, which is so unlike you, meaning you weren’t able to do it. Which is why I am. Just… go to bed or something.”

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