Page 6 of By His Rule

Maybe I should have sent the first one.

A scream threatens to erupt as my frustration begins to get the better of me.

Hendrix: I know. I do. I just thought that this time…

A pained sigh spills from my lips as I grip my cell tighter and continue toward the bus stop.

Lori: How was the rest of your day?

Hendrix: Meh. It was fine.

I can’t help but chuckle. I can practically hear his unamused grunting. He sounds exactly the same whenever I ask him about school.

Lori: Do I risk asking about Wilder?

Hendrix and Wilder are my younger half-brothers.

They are the only two good things about my hometown.

Leaving them behind ripped me in two when I embarked on college. But their lives back then were somewhat stable.

Wish I could say the same for now.

If I had my way, I’d move them both across the country to live with me.

But it would be selfish to do so.

They both have lives in California. School. Friends. Our mom…if she can even be called that.

He laughs at my message.

Hendrix: Last time I saw him, he was molesting a cheerleader.

Lori: Of course he was.

Whereas Hendrix struggles with school and would prefer to be locked away in his room playing video games, Wilder is the captain of the football team, the boy all the girls want to date, and the kind of student who makes everything look easy. It drives Hendrix to distraction, because no matter how hard he works, he’s always at the bottom of the class, fighting to survive and not be held back.

For identical twins, they couldn’t be any more different.

Hendrix: Pretty sure he’s already blown through that massive box of condoms you bought him…

I groan loudly as I stand in line at the bus stop.

Lori: Really, Rix? Really?

The need to pull up my chat with Wilder and chastise him for his behavior burns through me. But it would make me a massive fucking hypocrite, something I try to never, ever be when it comes to my little brothers.

I remember all too well what it was like to be seventeen at their high school.

I remember the peer pressure, the need to fit in, to be grown up beyond your years.

Hell, the three of us have more than enough experience of being older than our years, thanks to the shit we were born into.

The boys had it better than me. At least their father hung around and actually attempted to bring them up.

I still have no fucking idea who my sperm donor was beyond the fact he was of a different ethnicity from my mom. My darker skin tone and coarse, curly hair is proof enough.

Hendrix: You know he loves the game…

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