Page 64 of Rules Of Our Own

“What do you mean why? This is mylife.”

“Is it? Seems like your asshole ex has been downsizing your life since you left him.”

She gapes at me but doesn’t deny it.

I tilt my head. “What are the chances of you getting another internship in Ottawa?”

“Next to none, okay? Are you happy? Does my patheticness get you off or something?”

“You are not and have never been pathetic,” I growl. “And there’s nothing about this that makes me happy. So tell me what you want, and we’ll make it happen.”

Tears pool in her eyes. “I just need time…to figure everything out.”

“Let us help you with that, Kitten.” Alex crosses the room and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Come stay. We’ll pack up here so you’ve got the essentials, and you’ve got a bit of time before you need to let your apartment go. Who knows, maybe you’ll get a lead on a new internship by then.” He gives her a shy smile, and her expression softens. “But until you do, let us take care of you.”

She looks between us, then straightens. “Fine, but only until I get back on my feet.”

“We can work with that.” I nod, trying not to show the rush of happiness bubbling up my chest. “Now tell us everything about your asshole ex. Start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”

* * *

It took less than two hours to get her packed and loaded into the plane. Turns out, she hadn’t unpacked all of her things since moving out of her shared apartment with her ex.

As we packed, she answered our prying questions about Jason. Where did they meet?Med school.How long were they together?One Year.Was he always a complete psycho?Probably?

The more she told us, the angrier we got. She explained how he’d started off sweet, feigning interest in everything she did. Love bombing the shit out of her.

He’d been so meticulous with his manipulation she hadn’t realized he was slowly chipping away her confidence the entire time they were together. Working hard to make her feel small, so he could control everything she did. Making her feel like doing something she loved somehow made her selfish.

Anger builds in my chest, and I take a breath through gritted teeth.

Guys like him know what they’re doing. They pull out every technique, gaslighting their partners until they don’t trust themselves to know what’s real or not. But that asshole fucked up when he broke up with her. He thought she’d come crawling back. Instead, Mia used that moment of separation and slammed a door between them.

Alex was the one to ask what I was too afraid to. He’d asked her as gently as possible if Jason had ever been physical against her. She looked timid when she answered that he’d grabbed her arm a little too hard and shook her around a bit when he got drunk, but other than that, he was all words.

A string of cusses had flown from Alex’s mouth and my mind had gone red with rage. Every fiber in my being screaming to kill that bastard.

I halt my thoughts. I have to stop thinking about it, or I’ll lose my fucking mind.

I distract myself with the sight of her tucked into Alex’s side. She’d been exhausted by the time we made it to the airport, and I’m not surprised she passed out before takeoff. Alex wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she fell asleep on his chest.

Crookshanks kneads his paws into my thighs, his sharp claws puncturing holes in my deep gray pants.

“Hey, now. Those are expensive.” I lift the orange furball and hold him in my arms. He immediately rubs his head into me, an act so much like Mia that it has a soft, warm glow filling my stomach. “You aren’t so bad, are you?”

The cat meows as if he knows what I’m saying before closing its eyes.

Mia mumbles in her sleep, and Alex unconsciously pulls her closer. The sight of the two of them has my chest growing uncomfortably tight. The two people I need most in the world, and at least for now, we’re together.

CHAPTER30

MIA

The scentof leather and cedar wraps around me. I bury my face in my pillow, humming in the back of my throat as my body relaxes deeper into the comfy mattress…River.

I shift, grazing my fingers over the blanket, and freeze. Where my bedding is made of cheap box-store sheets, the thread count so low the fabric’s just shy of abrasive, the ones wrapped around me are smooth as silk.

Memories of River leading me into his room last night filter through my grogginess. He’d insisted on me taking his bed until they’d arranged everything with his friend’s apartment that I’ll be staying in. Whose apartment? I know they said there’s no rent, but I have to pay something.

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