Page 261 of The Rules
His shoulders hunched forward slightly, as if the weight of that place still clung to his bones, pressing him down toward the earth.
But his eyes—they were still him. StillDad. The same warm brown that crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the same quiet intelligence that had guided her through childhood puzzles and teenage heartbreaks. Prison hadn't taken that away, at least.
Her breathcaught in her throat. A tightness seized her windpipe—sudden and sharp. She couldn't move. Couldn't speak. She wanted to run to him like she was still a little girl, but her body refused. Her feet were rooted. Her muscles locked by some strange paralysis of disbelief and too much feeling.
For a second, no one moved. The silence stretched between them, fragile as spun glass. Then—Lisa broke.
A sound burst from her chest—a sob, raw and breathless—as she bolted forward.
"Dad!"
She slammed into him with a force that almost knocked them both over. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her fingers digging in like she was terrified he'd vanish again if she let go.
He stumbled, then caught her, arms came around her slowly—hesitant at first, then tight.
Katherine watched her father hold Lisa, arms wrapping around her with a fierce gentleness, the way only a father could hold his daughter. No words. Just contact. Just presence.
His eyes shut tight, his chin resting lightly atop her head like he was trying to memorize the weight of her in his arms again. Lisa’s fingers gripped his back like a child who’d waited too long.
Then—Bianca stepped forward.
No hesitation now.
He pulled her into him without pause, cupping her face in both hands before kissing her—soft, but sure. A man who had dreamt of this moment a thousand nights over. She broke then, breath hitching in his arms as he folded her into his chest.
He kissed the top of her head once. Then again. Then again. Whispering nothing. Just holding her as if every heartbeat could stitch lost time back together.
A family. Not just reunited.
Reclaimed.
A second of peace.
And Kath just— Stands there.
Watchingthe scene she fought for. Bled for. Lied for. Won for.
And still… her chest stays tight. Her shoulders locked.
Her lungs forget how to work properly. She’s here. It’s over.
She knows that. But her body doesn’t believe it yet.
She can’t let go of the last ten years.
The courtroom air. The club’s shadows. Crawford’s gaze.
The file in Ben’s hand. The quiet threat in Julian’s smirk.
The choices they made in the dark, the cost of dragging truth into the light—it all still clings to her skin like smoke. Her heart won’t settle. Like if she breathes too deeply, it’ll all come crashing back.
The weight of survival is still sitting on her shoulders.
And then— He looks at her.
His gaze finds hers over Bianca’s shoulder.
His smile is small, crooked, frayed at the edges—is everything. It hits harder than any verdict ever could. It’s the smile from old science fairs, from after-school projects, from scraped knees and graduation mornings. The one that said:I see you. I know what this cost you. And I’m proud.
