Page 116 of Changing Rules

“I’ll think about it.” I push open the door and haul myself out of the car, suddenly missing his Porsche.

He climbs out as well. “Where’s your car?”

“Ben sold it for me last winter.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Do you have any idea what rent in New York is like? If I hadn’t sold my car, I would’ve had to sell a kidney,” I joke.

Head bowed, he takes a step closer. “Youneeda car.”

“I don’t.” I lean against the passenger door and cross my legs at my ankles, stifling a yawn. “Boston has a great public transportation system.”

He nibbles on his bottom lip before he takes a deep breath. “Do you talk to Miller?”

Unease coils in my stomach. “No. I blocked him everywhere a while ago. Why?”

“He told me he wanted to see you.”

“In his dreams.” I stifle another yawn. “I better go. Thank you for the ride.”

“You’re very welcome.” He gives me a crooked smile.

“And, for the love of God, please stop showing up wherever I go.” I take a step toward the porch.

A low chuckle rumbles out of him. “I can’t make any promises. I’m not going to give up on us. I know what I want?—”

I whip around, anger coursing through me. He keeps pushing, and I’m done with it. “Ask your parents to look after Milo.”

“Isabella, I’m sorry.” His entire body sags. “I’ll tone it down, I promise.”

Head shaking, I groan. “You don’t even try.”

“I will. Honest.” He places his hand over his heart, offering me a lopsided grin. “But I’d much rather leave Milo with you if you’re willing. It’d be better for everybody.”

I frown. “Your mom and dad never had a problem with taking him. What’s the issue now?”

He flinches as if I’ve slapped him, and when he looks up again, his eyes are filled with pain.

I wring my hands as I try to decipher the expression. Other than the day we broke up, I’ve never seen him look so defeated. “What’s wrong?”

“My dad…” He sucks in a breath and blinks up at the sky. “He was diagnosed with type one diabetes a couple of months ago. A few weeks later, he suddenly lost his vision. All he sees now are shapes.”

Oh my God. On instinct, I grasp his hand and squeeze.

Greg is a wonderful man. He’s so involved in Xander’s life, always so kind.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. What do the doctors say?”

Xander lowers his head and swallows audibly. The look he gives me makes my chest ache. He’s miserable, in a world of pain. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for him.

“His vision will never fully recover.” He holds my hand tighter. “He’s so depressed, and it’s been so hard for Mom. He’s given up. He barely eats, and he shows zero interest in anything but lying in bed.”

“I’m so sorry.” I step in close and wrap my arms around him. “I’m so, so sorry…”

He hugs me back, burying his face in the crook of my neck. This moment is nothing like the one we shared at Meg’s. There’s no overwhelming passion, just kindness and warmth. He smells so familiar—sandalwood with a hint of cinnamon. On instinct, Ipress closer, finding the skin at the hollow of his neck. His skin is on fire, its heat intoxicating.

Knowing I have to step away, I untangle myself. He holds on for a second longer, as if reluctant to let me go, but in the end he doesn’t fight. I take a step back and study his face. I give him a reassuring smile, but inside my chest, a hurricane is brewing. My traitorous heart and my butterflies are impressed by the moment we shared; they’re even louder than they were after our kiss.

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