Page 73 of The Bad Boy Rule

“Eat pizza in the back of a classic truck?”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Yes, I only do this like twice a year, max. It’s a tragedy.” When I feel his shoulders shake with a silent chuckle, I add, “I mean, look at the stars, the quiet… all of it, I guess.”

A beat of silence hangs between us. It’s comfortable, easy.

Which surprises me.

“Earlier, what you said about your dad… he the reason you push yourself the way you do when you skate?” he asks.

The question catches me off guard, not at all something I would expect him to be curious about, or honestly even care about, but clearly, this is new, unexplored territory between us.

I swallow, pushing down the sudden bout of emotion lumping at the base of my throat.

“That’s a complicated question, with an…” I trail off, trying to find the right words. “Even more complicated answer.”

His eyes darken as he nods. “I know a thing or two about complicated.”

“No is the simple answer, but also… yes. I think that I probably push myself the way I dobecauseof the level of perfection he expects from me. And lately… I’m realizing how unrealistic and unattainable that standard is. But that doesn’t make his expectation any less.” I pause before adding, “Honestly? Being perfect is fucking exhausting.”

This wound is still fresh and raw, now split open and exposed for him to see.

Being vulnerable, no matter how little, is still terrifying.

“And you know what the worst part is?”

His brow lifts. “What?”

“I was complacent in my own suffering. I’ve spent so long being the dutiful, perfect daughter who always does as she’s told that I didn’t even realize how out of control I’ve been of my own life. I didn’t even realize anything was wrong.” Emotion pulls my chest tight, a humorless laugh escaping from my parted lips.

Saint’s quiet as he listens to me talk, not pushing or asking questions or making stupid small talk to make me feel better, just… listening. It’s comforting.

“I think my breaking point was when he blindsided me with my ex-boyfriend, Chandler, at a fundraiser. We broke up freshman year because he cheated on me with one of my friends. I walked in on him having sex with her, and he wasn’t even sorry. Was only upset that he got caught.”

“Fucking piece of shit,” he grunts.

I nod. “Yeah, and the most fucked-up part was that my father knew that happened. I told him what Chandler did to me, how he hurt me and disrespected me, and yet he still brought him back around, all but demanding we get back together. Insisting that I ‘forgive’ Chandler’s misstep. I told him that forgetting to buy me a birthday present was a misstep, not fucking one of my friends.”

He chuckles, a broad grin overtaking his too-handsome face. “Thatta girl. Should’ve kicked him in the dick.”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“It was just eye-opening, painfully so. I don’t care about Chandler in the slightest, and now that I look back, I’m glad that it happened so I didn’t end up with a guy who didn’t value or love me. But my father is a different story. He’s supposed to love andprotectme, but it feels like all he cares about is how I fit into his agenda. It was like the final nail in the coffin for all of the things I had already been unhappy with. It just really hurts to realize your parents might not care about your own happiness becausethey’re too focused on how you can help theirs. So I guess now I’m just trying to take back my life, but it’s hard, you know? He’s still my dad.”

I can’t believe I just word vomited all my family trauma on him.

But honestly, it feels good to get it off my chest, to stop holding it all inside.

Outside of Maisie… I’ve never told anyone else.

I just never thought that person would be Saint Devereaux.

“That’s the long answer. The short answer is… I guess I’ve just got daddy issues,” I add with a laugh that feels a little scratchy, trying to turn the mood a little less heavy.

I’m sure the very last thing he wants to hear about is the shit with my father when most of the time I try my hardest not to even think about it myself.

That’s the cruel thing about awareness. Once it hits, you can never go back to the way it was before.

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