Page 95 of Unspoken Rules

Cole

I glance at my watch, wondering if it’s too late to make dinner as I make my way to the front steps. I have plans tonight, but I was going to make something for Bryson at least, since he’ll be here alone. After the physical fight he and Chris had last night, I wanted to give him some space today, but didn’t want him to think I abandoned him either. I’d told him I had a meeting with a client today, but because of his potentially vulnerable state, I wanted to pop in to check on him before heading out again.

The house smells delicious when I step inside. It’s not late, but maybe he ordered food and already ate, figuring I wouldn’t be here.

I hang my keys on the hook and head to the kitchen.

Bryson is standing in front of the stove, mixing something in a saucepan. There’s a dish towel tossed over his shoulder and a stack of dishes in the sink.

“Hey,” I say carefully.

He glances at me over his shoulder, keeping his stirring steady but smiling. “Hey,” he answers brightly. “I thought I’d make you dinner for a change.”

He turns back to the stove and my stomach drops.

Bryson is making me dinner?

I take in the state of the kitchen. The stack of dishes, the empty cans and boxes on the counter. The oven is on and there are pans on the stove. He’s easily been in here for an hour. Whatever he’s making, it smells so good and there’s no way that’s macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets.

He looks back at me and must notice my face because he frowns. “What’s wrong? You don’t like chicken Parmesan?”

Fuck. That’s one of my favorite things.

I shake my head. “I do, I just…”

“Just what?” He turns off the stove and brings the pan to a cool burner. Turning to face me, he grabs the towel from his shoulder to wipe his hands.

“It’s nothing,” I say.

“It’s something, Cole. Just tell me.”

His anxiety is written all over his face. I don’t want to upset him and tell him I have plans to go out to dinner with someone. But I don’t want to lie to him either. He took time out of his day to make a meal for me. Bryson isn’t one to spend time in the kitchen. He eats cereal and Top Ramen when left to his own devices. He doesn’t make full meals. But he did for me.

Still, I have to be truthful with him. Lies help no one.

“It’s nothing, really. I had plans, but I’ll cancel them.”

He nods slowly, eyes going to the floor. “Oh.”

“I’ll cancel them,” I repeat, stepping deeper into the kitchen.

He shakes his head. “No, you should go. It’s fine. You can eat the leftovers tomorrow.”

I pull my phone from my pocket. “I’m going to cancel.”

I turn to leave the room, but he barks, “No.” I stop and turn back to him. He’s never raised his voice at me like that.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Just don’t worry about it, okay? This was stupid anyway. Go out. Do what you were going to do.”

He turns around to grab a glass dish from the cabinet and places it on the countertop harshly.

I shouldn’t go to him, but I do. Because something draws me to him. We can’t do this, but I want to help him. To make him feel better when he’s hurting, and he’s obviously hurting right now. I need to make him feel proud of himself, especially now when he’s done something like this. I love the way his eyes light up when he knows I’m proud of the things he does. The happiness that fills his eyes when he pleases me, sexually or otherwise.

That look is addicting.

It’s fucking addicting, and it’s going to get me into so much trouble.

I grab his arm and turn him toward me, but he shakes me off.

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