Page 165 of Rules

“I don’t know, man.” I can see the pain flash on his face, but as soon as I blink, it’s gone. “After everything with Jeanette… I just don’t know.”

Well, I guess that makes two of us.

“Who are you going for: Brook or the baby?”

“I…” I open my mouth, but no words come out.

“Because if it’s just because of the baby, because you want to do therightthing, I’m going to ditch your ass right now and go get her by myself. Brook deserves better than some dick knocking her up and then forcing her into something just to be a hero. If you’re not the man she needs…”

Andrew doesn’t finish his sentence; he doesn’t have to. One way or another, Brook deserves someone better than me. What I’m not sure is, am I willing to let her go?

* * *

“You sure this is it?” I look at Andrew over the hood of his car.

It has been one long-ass drive from Greyford all the way to the middle of nowhere Virginia. Who the hell runs to Virginia of all places? Brook, that’s who.

Andrew looks at his phone before he lifts his gaze to meet mine. “This is the place John’s PI said we’d find her.”

He tilts his chin in the direction of the house across the street. I take it in, trying to figure out why would she come here. There is nothing special about it. It’s just a regular two-story house in a small Virginia beach town. The front porch is covered in flowers, and there is a swing swaying slowly with the ocean breeze.

“I guess there is only one way to find out.”

The sound of the car door closing echoes through the silent street. Andrew locks the car, and we slowly walk up to the front door.

With every step, I can feel my heart speed up a tiny bit until it’s a full-on stampede. My chest squeezes to the point it’s hard to breathe. I dry my sweaty palms against the sides of my legs, clenching my fingers.

This is it. A few more steps, just behind that door…

Andrew turns his head to the side, and green eyes that I now know match Brook’s look at me. His pupils are dilated, so I know he must feel something similar too. Ever since he found out, he has made it his mission to find Brook and bring her back home, and now she is here, just behind that door, and as much as I want to see her, totouchher, I’m also afraid.

What if this isn’t our Brook? What if it’s somebody else and this trip was all for nothing? But an even more terrifying thought is… What if this is our Brook, but she didn’t want to come back?

With breath stuck in my lungs, I watch Andrew lift his hand and press the doorbell. The sound echoes in my head on repeat, a sudden heat wave going through my body. Shifting my weight from one leg to the other, I tug at the collar of my shirt in hopes it’ll help me breathe easier.

A faint sound of footsteps nears from the other side of the door. Light and unhurried.

Why the fuck does it take so long?

The door swings open.

“How can I help you?”

Chapter Sixty

BROOK

With the tip of the paintbrush tucked between my teeth, I look critically at the canvas in front of me. Tilting my head to the side, I rub my stiff neck, hoping to relive the pressure. The last few days I’ve been sleeping for shit, and it shows. The pressure to finish these pieces and send them to Mrs. Brown are getting to me.

Why the hell did I agree to this again?

Because she was the only one who could help you and you weren’t in a position to bargain.

Before she let me leave, Mrs. Brown made me promise to stay at her sister’s place for as long as I needed until I was able to stand on my own two feet and to let her sell my art to help me with the money. To say I was skeptical is an understatement, but her gallery owner friend actually did manage to sell the pieces she sent, and now she wanted more.

Narrowing my eyes, I dip the tip of the brush into a palette and tap softly on the canvas, adding a little bit of color here and there until I’m satisfied with the final result. Taking a step back, I give the painting one last look. Nodding in approval, I lay down the palette and brush, looking through the open window.

It was so easy to get lost in my art and lose track of time. And since there wasn’t a clock in the atelier and my phone’s been turned off since I left Greyford, it could have been hours.

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