Page 107 of Break the Rule
“Uh, Charlie can tell you.”
“Tell me what, Charlie?”
“Eden’s just, uh…a little younger than me. Not a big deal or anything, Ally.”
Alec’s eyebrows knit together. “How much younger?”
“A few years,” Charlie offers.
As expected, Alec doesn't accept such an evasive answer.
“How many is a few?” Alec demands, pausing on his way to the stove. His grip tightens on the edges of the casserole dish he’s holding. When Charlie doesn’t answer, he turns an accusatory gaze on Andrew. “How many?”
Andrew holds his hands up, clearly not wanting to touch this conversation with a ten foot pole. Charlie doesn’t blame him, neither does he, even if this is his own doing.
“Ally, listen, it’s not that bad.”
“You’re making me think the worst by refusing to answer,” Alec says. “How many? Four? Five?”
“A few more?”
“Seven?”
“Twelve,” Charlie croaks.
“Twelve.” Alec whispers, lifting those big, brown eyes of his at Charlie. They’re so full of hurt it causes a visceral ache in Charlie’s chest. Not that he can’t blame him. How many times did Charlie tell Alec that Theo was too old for him? That Theo would never, ever see Alec as anything but a child? How many times, even after he found out they were together, did he try to persuade Alec to find someone his own age? Sure, he stopped eventually when he realized that Alec had well and truly made up his mind about Theo, and when he realized that despite the messy path there, Theo seemed to truly love his brother. But no amount of acceptance now can erase his past words. Something he’s all too aware of as he watches Alec’s heart break in real time.
“I’m sorry, Ally. I should’ve told you.”
“Damn fucking right you should have fucking told me,” Alec snaps. “Were you even planning on telling me the truth before heshowed up today, or were you going to let me find out along with everyone else?”
The only honest response would be the wrong one so Charlie says nothing.
“Fuck you, Charlie.” Alec hurls the casserole dish across the kitchen. It misses Charlie instead crashing into the wall behind him with a cacophony of shattered glass and splattered sweet potato.
Andrew sucks in a breath. “Oh shit.”
“Pinche culero.” The spatula comes next, a half-cooked piece of celery sticking to the wall while the spatula clatters to the floor.
“You know,” Charlie tries, “it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not that big of a deal,” Alec repeats. “‘Not that big of a deal.’You fucking dickhead.”
“Hey sorry, I was—what’s going on?” Theo asks, stopping in the middle of the archway to look between Charlie, Andrew, and Alec with wide eyes.
A glob of sweet potato falls off the ceiling, splattering onto Charlie’s Croc.
“Alec?” Theo prompts.
“Tell him you’re fucking sorry,” Alec yells, grabbing a pot holder off the kitchen island and chucking it at Charlie. This time he doesn’t miss, hitting him in the face. It doesn’t hurt, but Charlie almost wishes it had so he had something else to focus on rather than his raging guilt. Andrew was right. This should’ve happened way before today.
“Is someone going to tell me what happened?” Theo questions.
“Charlie is the biggest fucking hypocrite in Santa Leon, that’s what.” Alec’s tone is dripping with betrayal. “You owe Theo so many fucking apologies.”
“I don’t need an apology,” Theo mutters, his shoulders hunching all the way up to his ears. That poor man is allergic to confrontation, and it’s a wonder someone as soft-spoken and shy as him ended up with someone like Alec.
“I think when you think about this, you’ll calm down and?—”
