Page 108 of The Bad Boy Rule

“God, Saint, you just got arrested. You spent half the night in jail, and you’re worried aboutme?”

“Fuck yeah I am. I’ve been losing my goddamn mind sitting in there, not being able to get to you,” he whispers. “I’m so?—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” I cut him off. “No. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

For a beat, he’s quiet while his eyes search mine.

“Let’s get home, okay?I don’t fucking want you in this place any longer. I wish you never had to be here in the first place.” His jaw tenses as he reaches for my hand and threads our fingers together, and I nod.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long at all to get an Uber, and we pull up at my apartment twenty minutes later.

Saint was quiet the entire ride, his gaze fixed out of the window, uncharacteristically so. Even when we walk inside my apartment and go to my bedroom, he’s still lost in thought.

I shut the door behind us and turn to him, watching as he drops down onto the edge of my bed and stares down at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He lifts his gaze to mine. “I need to tell you something.”

My heart plummets to my stomach at the look in his eyes, the serious tone of his voice.

I nod, pushing down a nervous swallow. “Does it have anything to do with… what you said to my father?” It’s been there in the back of my mind since the gala, a gnawing feeling in my gut that I didn’t get the full picture, that I was somehow missing pieces that I don’t quite understand. Saint knows something about my father.

“Yes.”

I wobble on my feet slightly, and he curses, jumping up from the bed, gently grasping my arm. “Just… go sit, okay? Let me help you take these off.”

I don’t even feel my feet anymore. They’re past the point of numb, but still, he guides me to the bed and places me at the edge. Then deftly works to unclasp the thin straps around my ankle and removes my shoes. I wiggle my toes around to bring the feeling back to them.

Saint stands to full height and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. The white sleeves of his shirt are rolled to his elbows, and his tattooed, veiny arms are on display, distracting me slightly.

“Lennon.” I lift my eyes to his, and he swallows roughly. “I need you to understand something before I tell you what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

When he sees the slight nod of my head, he continues. “The only person in my life I’ve ever felt any type of love from is my mother, and even then, it’s… it’s always felt like her love for me has taken a back seat to my father. I realize that sounds fucked-up, and it is, but it also doesn’t make it any less true.Sometimes I wonder if I’m even capable of loving someone. How can I when the only love I’ve ever witnessed is selfish and toxic. Destructive. Painful.”

I bite the inside of my lip to stop from crying, but it doesn’t help. If anything the sting only makes the tears well faster.

He exhales, and it’s a broken, staggering breath like he’s expelling the poison from his lungs.

I want to reach for him, but I stay where I am since he’s the one who created the distance.

“I’m fucked-up, Lennon. Myheartis fucked-up.”

I shake my head, denying each word, but he just keeps going.

“I’m the product of a fucked-up family. Of an abusive addict father. And I’m terrified that I’ll end up just like him.” His eyes hold mine so intensely my heart stutters. “I haven’t told you the full truth. I purposefully kept it from you, and I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

I don’t understand what’s happening. What is he talking about?

He pauses, raking a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. “My dad used to work for Rousseau Enterprises. Your father was his boss.”

When he says it, I feel like the floor has fallen out from beneath me.What?

“Whydidn’t you tell me that? I don’t understand.”

“Because, baby, your father is the man behind all the fucked-up things that happened to mine.”

There’s a heavy, crippling silence that fills the room, and I suck in a sharp breath that does nothing to make my head feel less light.

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