Page 81 of Rebellious

At first, I think he’s getting a condom or something super responsible. Instead, his hand emerges with a marker.

“Ugh. Really? Do you have these stashed in every drawer of the house?”

He smirks and, with his teeth, pops off the cap.

“Whatever you write, I’ll ignore,” I threaten.

Only one brow raises as a smug look comes over him. “Doubtful.”

I shrug. “I don’t care what you said about the rules. This is different and you—”

“Shh…” He presses the end of the marker to my mouth before dragging it past my chin and in between my breasts. With his head cocked to the side, he eyes the tops of my breasts as they ache within the confines of the swim top.

“Are you reconsidering?” I ask after a moment of him just staring, his gaze thoughtful.

“No.” Inhaling, he flips the marker around, pressing the tip to my skin. I close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable pain of his rules.

Before long, the tip rises from my skin, and Bennett’s forehead drops to mine. “Take it,” he says, pressing the marker into my hand.

I swallow, wrapping my fingers around it, my eyes drifting down to my chest. “Read it to me?” I ask him in a whisper.

“Not yet,” he smiles sadly, bringing my hand to his mouth, kissing the top. “Write your last rule, Asp.”

His words ache inside my throat as I swallow their meaning. The rules end here. As the summer rushes toward the end, we have no need for more. This is our final stand.

I inhale and close my eyes. How can one moment feel so heartbreaking and wonderful at the same time? On one hand, Bennett is finally giving in—loving me when he once promised he wouldn’t. On the other hand, a longstanding tradition of creating rules meant to keep us together, yet apart, is ending.

Who will Aspen and Bennett be without their rules? Will they be able to look each other in the eyes? Hug and congratulate each other on their nuptials? Or when they look each other in the eyes, will they only be able to remember this moment right here? When they gave up everything.

“I will never stop loving you.” He breathes against my skin.

A tear drops onto my hand. Not his, but mine.

I nod, my voice cracking. “And I will never get over you.”

My hand trembles as I write my last rule onto his skin; beautiful cursive letters stare back at me, bitter and final. Slowly, Bennett removes the marker from my hand and tosses it to the floor. Lifting my chin, he smiles. “How does it feel to be free?”

I frown, looking into his eyes. “Tragic.”

He leans down and captures my lips with a kiss. “Beautifully tragic,” he agrees, pulling away and turning me around so we both face the mirror.

There, in our childhood vacation home, the once little boy I curled into bed with, stares back at me with those same green eyes—brilliant and sad. He moves the hair from my shoulder, allowing the rule to show fully along my skin.

I suck in a breath, reading his last rule.

Forgive me.

Tears well in my eyes as I fight back the emotion. “Always,” I tell him. “Always.” Then I step to the left, revealing my rule on his chest—it’s my truth and my last request.

Don’t forget me.

His nostrils flare, his jaw pulsing in that way it always has, angry and tense, as he absorbs my rule. “Never,” he whispers, bowing his head to my hair. “I’ll never forget you, Asp.”

This is us: raw, desperate, and madly in love.

But amongst all of that, somewhere deep, lies hope. Pesky little hope. That same hope I thought I’d squashed years ago. But I didn’t. Instead, a piece lingered—and bloomed.

It started with the rules.

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