Page 3 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

She holds up a hand. “I’ve heard enough. Fuck you.”

With the flash of a middle finger, she hurries away, her glossy dark hair swishing over her shoulders. She leaves behind a cloud of fresh, sweet-smelling perfume.Something citrusy and?—

Why the fuck am I thinking about what Rosie Thomas smells like?

I won’t be deterred by her reluctance. She’s the only one who can help me.

Despite how much I hate it.

She steps through the door and disappears. I don’t go after her. No, while I need her to agree, I know her well enough to know she needs space.

Choking back my frustration, I turn for the dining hall. I don’t really need to eat, but I’m here, so I might as well.

Some of the guys on my team gesture for me to join them at their table when they see me.

I shake my head and continue moving.

I’ve been distancing myself from everyone this year, even my roommates, not that it’s been too difficult. Cree is always busy hanging out with his mystery girl now that he found her. Tutoring her? Please. He just wants to fuck her. And myotherroommate, Jude, spends all his free time trying to get in our fourth roommate’s pants. That’s a whole other level of fuckery since she’s Cree’s sister.

Yeah, our off-campus townhouse is a whole fucking hot mess.

Under normal circumstances, I would’ve told them about the kid by now. A kid whose name I don’t even know, since Danielle refuses to tell me. But while she’s withholding that information, she’s yet to deny that I’m his father.

Bitch.

Maybe it’s wrong to think such a thing about my son’s mother, but I can’t help it. She probably assumed I wouldn’t give a shit, that if Ididfind out he existed, I wouldn’t care. Well, surprise, I do care. My kid is going to know me. End of discussion.

Our fling was short-lived. She claimed to be having marital problems because they couldn’t get pregnant. Now I have to wonder, despite her assurance that she was on birth control and my strict use of condoms all except that one stupid fucking time, if she used me as a stud—an unwitting sperm donor.

After I’ve purchased a lunch, I find a spot in the corner and sit alone, ignoring the funny looks from my hockey teammates. It’s shitty of me, but I don’t want to talk to anyone these days. I have too much on my mind, and I’m too angry.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the betrayal of not knowing about my own child.

Plenty of guys my age would be relieved that the mother didn’t expect or even want them involved; not me. I was raised by a single dad. He was a workaholic, but he always made time for us. He made parenthood lookeasy, even as he ran a billion-dollar multimedia company. Sure, we had nannies, but he wastherewhen a lot of parents in his position wouldn’t have been. He made it to all our school events, and he was almost always home for dinner.

My mom was killed in a freak boating accident when I was five. I have very few memories of her, all of which are hazy, and my dad only speaks of her on rare occasions. Even after all this time, it still hurts him. If it weren’t for all of us boys, it’s hard not to question whether he would’ve tried to join her.

Regardless, he steppedup, and I’ll do the same. Not out of some sense of obligation, but because Iwantto. I don’t want my kid to ever think that I didn’t want to be there for him. I might not have planned on him, but he’s here, and I want to know him.

If I told my dad what was going on, I have no doubt that he’d help. He’d be ready to throw money at the best lawyers. But I don’t want that, even if it would be the easy way out. I want to fight for my son on my own… with Rosie’s help. I’ll gladly step up to the plate and prove that I can handle this on my own. I want my son to know that I’ll do whatever it takes. That he matters that much to me.

If I eventually need help from my dad, then I’m not too proud to admit defeat. Not if it means having a relationship with my son.

Though my tray is full, I’m suddenly not hungry. I haven’t been hungry much lately, which doesn’t bode well. With the number of calories I burn between time spent in the gym and on ice, I need to eat.

But I can’t make myself.

I stand and gather my tray, intending to throw itaway, but instead I shove it into an unsuspecting student’s hands.

“Enjoy lunch on me,” I mutter.

Head down, I stalk out of the building, already plotting ways to get Rosie to agree.

2

ROSIE

Mother Dearest:Did you get that package I sent you?

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