Page 111 of The Bad Boy Rule

His arms wrap around my waist as he pulls me flush against him, not an inch of space separating us, and it feels like…home.

Like I’ve been wandering for so long and I’m finally right where I belong.

We’re just two people clinging to each other when everything in our lives is falling apart.

“I love you.” I press my lips against his, holding on as tightly as I can. I’ll always be his anchor when the ground beneath us is unsteady. “And I’llalwaysbe your Golden Girl.”

His lip tilts as he looks down at me. “Fuck yeah you will, baby.”

“Saint…” I trail off, feeling my stomach twist as my head flits to the biggest piece of all of this fucked-up puzzle., “God, I just… it feels like there’s more to this. I know my father, how protective he is of his business and his name. He would have done everything he could to get the outcome he wanted.”

It’s sad that I didn’t even doubt what Saint told me, not even for a moment, because I actually believe my dad could be capable of something as heinous as this.

If there’s anything that the last few months have taught me, it’s that my father is nothing like the man I thought I knew.

What I do know is that he would do whatever it takes, hurt whoever is in his path, to get what he wants. I’ve seen that with my own eyes and experienced it firsthand.

Everyone is a pawn. So I feel like therehasto be more to this. My father is a master manipulator. He wouldn’t just rely on lying about Saint’s father; he’d never rely on hearsay alone to protect his brand and his business. “My father can’t just get away with what he’s done. He can’t continue to hurt people. To lie, and cheat, and control people without consequence. You can’t just let this go, Saint.”

“No,” Saint says, shaking his head. “I’m done with it, Lennon. Going after your father means going afteryou, your family, and I’m not letting you get hurt because of his fucked-up decisions. No.”

Protecting me. Always.

This big, brooding man that I love so much.

I sweep the pad of my finger along his cheek. “You’re not going to hurt me. It just… this is not right. None of it. It feels corrupt.”

“Lennon… it’s over, baby. I want us to move forward and leave all of this shit behind. Both your father and mine have stolen too much of our lives, and all I want is to be with you and be at peace. Be fucking happy. Be free.”

Saint places a chaste kiss to my forehead and pulls me into his arms, holding me close to him.

“We will be. Happy and free. We’ll just beus. Okay?” I murmur, cuddling closer to him.

He’s right, our fathers have stolen so much of our lives. But I can’t stop thinking about everything I’ve learned tonight, the shitty things my father has done.

Saint might be ready to let this go, but I’m not.

FORTY-NINE

LENNON

The house I spent my childhood in looks perfect from the outside. A sprawling white, three-story Victorian that sits on the corner of St. Charles Avenue and Bordeaux Street, built during a time that no longer exists.

Despite the fact that it’s over a hundred years old, there’s not a single piece of peeling paint on the exterior. The garden is flourishing, the grass perfectly manicured, the wraparound porch warm and inviting. A place where you could imagine rocking in old wooden chairs, drinking sweet tea, watching the world breeze past.

Now, it feels cold and staged.

I just never realized how much until now. Until this contrived little bubble I had been living in for so long finally popped,, and the veil lifted from my eyes. Now, I’m seeing things for what they truly are.

This house might have been where I grew up, where I got my first pair of skates, where I broke my arm for the first time while rollerblading… but it’s not ahome.

A home is filled with love, laughter, happiness. Memories of times that you never want to forget.

Not the place you never want to return to.

I’m hurt, disgusted… angry at my father, and I know that Saint wants to let it go, to move on, but he deserves to know the truth. He doesn’t want me to get hurt or for me to get caught in the crosshairs because my family’s name is being dragged through the mud. But I don’t even care anymore.I’m honestly not sure I ever really did.

All I know is that it feels like more is happening, something I can’t even explain except a gnawing sense of intuition in my gut that I can’t ignore.

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