Page 98 of Rules to Love By

“Mildred?” Kreed said, warning in his voice.

The back door rattled.

All heads turned to look at it.

“She’s right,” Eli said. “This is what Marcus and I agreed on, and he did the right thing, telling me no. I’ll go home.” He sighed. “I have some reckoning of my own to do before he and I go any further.”

The curtain on the door fluttered gently, and the handle turned, releasing the latch. The door itself barely moved, though.

“She’s very polite for a house,” Eli observed.

“She’s trying very hard, I think,” Kreed said. “Better take the hint before she strains a truss or something.”

The vent fan over his grill increased enough to ruffle his hair, and he chuckled, patting the stainless steel affectionately. “We hear you,” he reassured her.

Eli heaved out a breath that turned to a yawn, watering eyes and the tsunami of desire to not be standing one single minute longer. He glanced at the door, which was easing open once again. “Guess I’d better go get this over with or your house will never let me hear the end of it, huh?”

Lucky made a face. “Not my house.”

A cold wind blasted through the open door.

“But a good house,” Tris quickly appeased her.

“Pain-in-the-ass house,” Kreed muttered. But he also patted the vent hood again.

“All righty, then.” Eli made for the door. “I guess I’ll see y’all later.” As soon as he stepped outside, the door closed behind him. “Tell me how you really feel, Milly.” The door lock clicked into place. “Seriously?”

The door unlocked, and Lucky stuck his head out. “Sorry about that. She gets snarky when her people are upset.”

“Marcus is her people now?”

“He lives here. At least for the time being. So I guess so.”

Eli nodded. It made sense. He turned towards home and braced himself for the last conversation he felt like having right then.

CHAPTERTWENTY

There were knots inside knots in Eli’s gut as he walked away. What if Steph was right that his father already knew about school? How might he react to having been lied to for over a year?

“Only one way to find out,” he decided as he pushed into the barbershop.

“Eli.”

“Dad.” He didn’t look up from the black-and-white-tiled floor. It was the most familiar thing in his life at that moment. How many times had he walked through that door with another failed test, another dismal report card, convinced this time would be the time his father gave up on him?

“Son. What’s wrong?”

“What isn’t?” Eli asked.

The clink of scissors being set down made him glance up.

The tall, lanky man in the nearest cutting chair grinned a wide white grin at him. “Eli!” The light around the station brightened, as if putting the man in a spotlight.

“Uncle Ezra.” How perfect. Because of course he would have an audience when he finally decided to do this. At least it was his actual uncle and not just one of his father’s many buddies who spent so much time haunting his shop.

“Eli.” Ezra unclipped the apron from around his neck and draped it over the next chair. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Nothing, Uncle—”

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