Page 63 of Off-Limits Bad Boy

“Damn you both. And damn me for loving you two.” The words are chased by more tears and my head aches. Sure, I'm mad at Alex, but love doesn't just vanish in the presence of anger.

One day fades into the next, passing me by, though I have no idea how many have come and gone. I try to lose myself in books, in music—anything to drown out the memories of dancing with him in my living room.

And when it’s time to sleep again, I lie on the couch under my fuzzy blanket. “Maybe tomorrow,” I tell myself. “Maybe tomorrow I'll feel okay.”

I run my hand along the back of the couch, fingers brushing something unexpected. It's a card—a Cards Against Humanity card. I pull it out, a laugh escaping before it chokes in my throat. Kade's wicked sense of humor flashes through my memory, his infectious laughter filling the now silent room.

I sink into the cushions, gripping the fluffy blanket around me.

But I can’t sleep, so I get up and decide to do something productive; clean out my kitchen junk drawer. My fingers graze over forgotten trinkets, ticket stubs, and tangled jewelry. But then they stop, catching on the edge of something solid. I pick it up and realize it’s a frame. A frame with a photograph in it.

It's us—Kade, Alex, and me—as teens. We're sprawled on the front lawn, summer sun casting halos in our hair. Kade's smile is wide, but that devilish glint in his eyes was there, even then. Alex looks protective even as he laughs at something off-camera - I don't remember what.

“Look at us,” I whisper, tracing the outline of our younger selves. The smiles are real, unfiltered by recent complications. I place the frame on the counter, stepping back as if distance can lend perspective. It can't.

I reach for my phone. I need to face this head-on or it’ll leave me hurting for a very long time.

But I’m not ready. So I set my phone down and grab a notebook, the spine cracked from frequent use, and flip it open to a blank page. The pen in my hand feels heavy, loaded with the weight of what I'm about to do.

Rule one: Honesty, even when it hurts.

Rule two: Trust is a two-way street.

Rule three: my hand finally steadies. We’re a team, equals.

The list grows, each rule set to give us a better future. A future where love is our sanctuary instead of a series of half-truths and hidden loyalties.

“Emma?” His voice comes through the door, hesitant yet hopeful, and my heart does a somersault. Kade’s at my door, right now. “Emma, can we talk?” he asks.

I glance at my notebook, making up my mind. “Only if you're ready to hear my new rules,” I say.

“Let’s hear it,” he says.

“Hey,” Kade says when I open the door, and just like that, he's here—in my space, bringing back memories of us that flood my senses. He looks nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Hi,” I say, stepping aside to let him in.

But instead of the rules, I pull him inside and into a hug, needing his touch, his comfort. I reach up, threading my fingers through his hair, pulling him down to meet my kiss.

“I wasn’t sure you’d let me in,” he says against my lips.

“Neither was I,” I whisper. “But here we are.”

“Yeah.” He exhales, the air cooling my damp lips. “Here we are.”

“I've been thinking—”

“Me, too,” he says quickly, like he's afraid of losing his chance to speak. “A lot.”

“About us?” I ask.

“Always about us.” He smiles as if he can’t imagine anything else, his dark eyes intense on mine as I pull out of his embrace and make my way to the couch. He closes the door behind us and follows.

“Kade, I... I want to move forward.”

His eyebrows rise as if that’s the last thing he expected me to say. “Really?”

I nod. “But things have to change.”

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