Broken Rules: A Rescuer Romance

by Gunn, Jenna

  My heart stutters. Oh shit. Bishop doesn’t know about me and Brandon…

  I’ve just stepped in something bigger than a weird as hell failed job interview.

  Tread careful, girl…”Um…uh...” I stutter.

  A huff of air leaves his lungs. “Damn. There’s something going on between you and my brother, isn’t there.”

  I’m suddenly the deer in headlights, pinned by Bishop’s hard glare. What do I say? I can’t lie. He would know for sure.

  He shoves his hand in his hair. “You’re the girl that was at the Sea Slug, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Rubbing his temple, he says, “He hasn’t been home. Is he staying at your place?”

  I just nod.

  “That explains why Stu got real fucking cold. Brandon and Stu have a history.” He laughs bitterly. It’s a sound I’ve never heard from him. “Brandon hates only one person on this earth. And that is the man. Do yourself a favor. Don’t mention this to Brandon, and never, ever come back to this place if you care about seeing Brandon again.”

  “Okay—,” I stammer. Unsure of my footing here. Something very dark swirls in the air around this whole thing.

  An angry color flushes Brandon’s face. “Get in your car and leave, and pretend this never happened.”

  “Are you mad at me because I didn’t tell you about Brandon before now?”

  His battleship grey eyes pierce into me. “It would have been nice to know.”

  * * *

  I can’t get a freaking break. Now Bishop is pissed at me. Just what I need. But as much as I don’t want to deal with the next problem of the day, I’m glad there is a light on in the house because it means Cameron is probably still here.

  His white Honda is nowhere in sight, but that’s no surprise, given that he’s hiding.

  The house is silent when I walk in. A quick look in the kitchen tells me he’s cooked something. The dishes are still on the table, but he isn’t there. When I walk past his room, the door is open. The shape of his thin, motionless body is sprawled across the bed.

  My heart stutters.

  Is he…

  I leap into the room.

  He jolts awake. Scrambles back and off the bed. His eyes wide, his hands held up in defense.

  “I’m sorry! It’s just me. I’m so sorry.”

  Cameron lets out a shaky breath. “God.” With trembling hands, he scrubs at his face. “I was dreaming. That’s all. Don’t worry.”

  I back out of the room slowly. I hate that he has to be afraid. “I hope you can go back to sleep.”

  His brows drop together in a single frown line. “It’s okay. We should talk anyway.”

  “Give me a minute, okay. I need to get my adrenaline back under control.” I disappear into my own room. Leaning on the door as I close it. “Too much for one day.” I whisper.

  My energy sags and I find myself on the bed, staring at the light fixture on the ceiling that’s made of square, colorful floppy computer disks from the 1980s. Everything in the house is like this. Weird. It’s like I live in a two-dollar museum.

  Too bad I can’t sing like my parents did. That would be a nice second job. Back to the drawing board on the job search. I guess waiting tables at the Diner might have to do.

  The sound of Cameron’s feet on the hall tile reminds me that I have to talk with him, he has to help get the money. There’s no other way.

  After a few seconds of digging in my purse, I find my phone. No new messages. Not that I expected Brandon to text or call. But a girl can hope.

  My bed will feel lonely tonight without his big warm body wrapped around me. Am I sacrificing my own comfort for Cam’s?

  Definitely.

  I dial Brandon. No answer. His deep voice, a recording says, “Yeah, it’s Brandon. Leave a message, or don’t.”

  I smile, his voice, even just a digital version makes my nerves sing. “I miss you. Looks like Cameron is staying here tonight. We’re getting ready to talk. Let’s connect later.”

  As I leave the room, I toss the phone on my dresser. Knowing I’d be tempted to check it for a return message when I should be paying attention to Cameron.

  Cam is sprawled on the built-in sofa in the living room. It hits me then how much he looks like our father. Especially the strung out, cocaine thin version of our father at the heyday of his career.

  It pisses me off. Cameron could be so much more. If he’d just stay clean and use his talents for something… anything.

  His eyes are distant, when he turns them on me. He looks far older than his years “How are we going to get the money?”

  I sigh. “I don’t know. What do you have that you can sell?”

  “Nothing.” He replies quietly.

  “Your car. The tools?”

  The venom in his voice shocks me. “You want me to sell the very things that will help me make money?”

  I fold my arms. “Have you made money with them yet?”

  “Some.”

  “Where are you living?”

  His eyes shift away. “With a girl.”

  “Is she a drug addict?” I don’t sugarcoat it anymore with Cam. The days for that are long since passed. I want to rattle his cage.

  “No. She might have a drink now and then, but she doesn’t use anything.”

  I study him for signs he’s lying. But nothing stands out. My body softens, just a hair. “What’s her name?”

  “Quinn.”

  When he says the name, something in him shifts. I see something I haven’t seen in a long time...hope.

  Maybe something is changing. “That’s good Cam. I’m glad you have someone in your life.”

  “It’s nice.” He says, his voice softer.

  “Is it a dealer you owe?”

  “Nah, kind of a loan shark.”

  “I think this loan shark and his men are dangerous. I got another note last night.” Suddenly my body doesn’t want to stand upright any more. I lower myself onto the sofa. “I’m broke, Cam. I don’t think I can pull this one off. The rehab was too expensive. I’m barely making rent on my own. I tried to get a second job today, but that fell through.”

  A hard light returns to his eyes. “I’ll make some calls. There might be a way for me to get part of the money. Don’t worry, Anya. I’m in a better place.”

  His heavy steps echo through the house. The door to his bedroom snaps closed.

  I want to believe him. Please let it be true that he can help us out of this situation.

  Could it be possible for Cam to get his life straight? Would that be too much for a girl to dream of?

  The last hints of light seep through the cracks in the blinds. Orange fades to black outside, but I’m a thousand miles away. Full of what-ifs.

  I have no clue what time it is. My body is stiff from sitting. The traffic on the road has gone quiet.

  Passing through the kitchen, I see the dirty dishes on the table once again. The old me would have cleaned up after him, but not tonight, I’m just too tired.

  As the hot shower water streams over me, I should feel something. Instead, I feel numb. I’m so weighed down that I fall into bed, robe, towel and all. I’m done. There’s no more room inside me for thinking.

  16

  When my world is turned upside down, the one place I find solace is the ocean. The sea in her vast greatness has the ability to remind us how small, how transient we are.

  Saltwater is dripping off my body onto the concrete sea wall as the sky turns orange. Slowly the sun is slipping down, closing out the day.

  I swam myself into a numb, tired place.

  The great chasm in my chest takes me back to the emptiness I’ve felt too many times in my life.

  Gutted.

  Hollow and numb.

  I learned to let the pain go when I was young. I had to or I would have imploded. I was the disappointing son, the one with the learning disability, the one who would never rise to his father’s equal in life.

  He always w
anted me to do more, to be better. Sure as fuck, I wanted to read better and do better in school, but no matter how I tried, all that happened was I failed.

  “Your child is severely learning disabled,” the teacher had said to my tense parents as I sat there in that cold classroom, feeling like I’d just been pinned with a scarlet letter that would forever mean I was the child that couldn’t keep up.

  Fuck. That was a long time ago, a hundred years ago, a hundred thousand cuts to my heart ago.

  I learned how to survive after that—learned to let the pain go and let the emptiness fill me. Let it wash back into the ocean where it would be pulled away by the tide.

  I learned to use the ball field, the surf, and martial arts, to find myself respect. And I earned the respect of my siblings through blood, knuckles, and pure grit.

  But…but when a woman is involved, I’m in no place to compete. The only reason I moved on Anya was because Bishop wasn’t on the radar…

  That’s what I get for following the urges set loose in me by those playful looks, the soft laughter, and the body that makes mine into something primal and hungry.

  Anya—

  Dropping my face into my hands, I shut out the thoughts her name brings.

  Maybe I didn’t swim hard enough after all...

  The air to my left moves gently, but I know that shift is from someone climbing onto the wall beside me. I don’t bother to look up— maybe they’ll take a hint that I’m busy soaking in my own fucking misery.

  However, that doesn’t happen.

  “You look like something the cat dragged in.”

  The nerve of Bishop.

  I ought to knock his head off. But this whole clusterfuck is my fault—I was the stupid one that saw all signs pointing to him and Anya being a thing, but chose to ignore because the head in my pants told me otherwise.

  “Fuck off, Bishop. I just want to be alone.”

  I don’t have to look to know that he hasn’t left. If nothing else Bishop is persistent, that’s always been his M.O., so I know he’s settling in for the long haul.

  “She’s got you all jacked up, huh?”

  Red hot anger bursts alive in my chest. He doesn’t even flinch when I get right in his face, “Wouldn’t you be if your brother just hooked up with the woman you are seeing?”

  Bishop throws up a hand, palm out. “Whoa there.”

  My teeth practically snap off, “Whoa what?”

  “I didn’t hook up with Anya.”

  Blood pounds in my ears. Bishop, my own damned brother, is lying right to my face.

  The pressure in my chest threatens to explode and level the whole fucking world.

  I snarl, “Archer’s don’t lie to each other, you son of a bitch. When did you forget that?”

  His grey steady eyes hold me, unflinching, undaunted by my building rage. “Lie? It’s not a fucking lie. I’ve never even come close to hooking up with Anya.” Suddenly brows shoot up. “Shit! I think I know what’s going on.”

  Growling, I say, “Good, you tell me, because I’m confused as fuck.”

  “Someone told you that I was at the Fox Hole with Anya.”

  I bark a bitter laugh out. “I saw it with my own damned eyes.”

  Bishop slides off the seawall, crosses his arms. “And what did you see?”

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I say, “You and Anya coming out of the door, then you were in the parking lot talking.”

  His brows drop. “Exactly! That’s all it was.”

  The boiling heat in me drops down a few degrees, going from flame-thrower to scalding. I want to believe him, but I can’t get the image of her standing so close, looking up at him, out of my goddamn head. “Why were you there?”

  Bishop shakes his head. “I was watching out for your girl. I think you need to talk to her.”

  My girl…

  The words my girl tumbles around like raw gemstones in my head. Suddenly seeming like words that could be polished, words that can become something altogether different—shiny and precious.

  Some of the vicious in me seeps out. I’m like a half deflated balloon.

  “I’m kinda fucked up right now.”

  He laughs out a bitter sound. “Women will do that to you.”

  “This thing between us is complicated. She’s got this brother…” I trail off. Unsure how much he knows about her brother and the problems following in his wake. “Have you ever been to her house?”

  “Just a few times. That’s a weird as shit house. I offered to help, but she’s pretty embarrassed.”

  I nod, “There’s some dinosaur sized skeletons in her closet.”

  “The brother?”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Not much. She’s had to give him money on the regular. I think that’s why she was at the Fox Hole looking for a second job.”

  My teeth ache at hearing the name, Fox Hole.

  “Stu still the same blemish on the Earth’s ass?”

  Bishop chuckles. “Actually, he’s different now. I think the thing with you and Samantha hit pretty hard. He’s cleaned up his act a lot in the last few years.”

  “You keeping tabs on him?”

  He shrugs, kicks some sand with his toe. “It is a small town. Word gets around. I think he realized he was gonna get killed by some brother, or husband hunting him down. Hell, he was lucky you didn’t kill him.”

  “No shit, I wanted to, but it wasn’t worth throwing my life away for.”

  Cutting my eyes away, I look down the beach—anywhere but at Bishop. He knows too much about the fucking heart stomping I took when my college girlfriend got hooked on coke, then got hooked by a sugar daddy working at the Fox Hole.

  Bishop’s voice is somber, “She was on a one-way road to self-destruction.”

  “If only I hadn’t agreed to her taking the job...” Maybe she wouldn’t have overdosed, gotten arrested, and gotten married to a man three times her age, all in the span of a year.

  Bishop’s fist jabs me hard in the shoulder. “Get out of your head. She was a walking disaster, and you just happened to get caught in the crossfire.”

  Shit. Is that what’s happening again? “Am I only attracted to women who have Trouble for a middle name?”

  I rub at my sternum. “I’m not sure I can take another missile to the chest.”

  He climbs back onto the wall. “Don’t let it keep you from finding someone who’s right for you.”

  I glance at him… talk about the pot calling the kettle black. “You seem to have the same problem. How long since you’ve gone on a date?”

  Us damn Archers. A messed up lot we are. We’ve got the whole dictionary of relationship fuckery on our list.

  He grunts. “It’s the right time for you. Not me.”

  I sigh. “I’m still surprised she’s into me.”

  “Why not, man?”

  Scrubbing my face, I say, “You know why—”

  “Are you talking about the fact that you can’t read for shit?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He’s grinning when I take my hand down from my face. “Good thing reading a woman’s body uses a whole different head.”

  I whack him with the back of my hand. Hard enough to sting me. He snickers.

  His eyes hold humor for a beat, then turn serious. “She’s special, and you deserve someone like her.”

  “Thanks brother, I just hope that if this goes bad, she’s more like a nuclear bomb than a missile. Maybe she’ll just leave ashes instead of mangled ruins.”

  He stands up, “Good luck tonight at the county council meeting.”

  “Thanks, and wish me luck with… well you know, with Anya.”

  * * *

  It’s been a while since I’ve worn a suit. Thank god.

  I didn’t expect the case to go before the board so soon, but they called a special meeting today for other things and decided to hear my case.

  I straighten my tie. Take one more look at my head of hair, which I finall
y got cut. I’d let it go since the suspension. Figured a cut might be good before going before the county commission.

  Can’t stand the things. Maybe because the memory of mom’s funeral is too fresh. That’s one of the few times I’ve seen all of the Archer men in suits at once.

  Fuck. That ripped my heart out to see my strong, stoic father silently crying.

  And that’s just one reason why I hate suits.

  They’ve always represented something that wasn’t part of my world. Higher education and all that shit.

  School and office jobs and I don’t mix.

  The thought only adds irritation to my foul mood. If the county doesn’t grant my permission to return to work, then I’ll have to find something else.

  But what can someone like me do? Not like I’ve got a big college degree, or a lot of skills that apply in ninety-nine percent of the job out there. I can barely do the office work side of the job I’ve got.

  I’ve been with Ocean Rescue since I was a teenager.

  It’s all I know.

  Worry stabs at my gut for an instant and makes my shirt collar feel too damned tight. I shake it off.

  Worrying is like chewing gum to solve a math problem. It ain’t gonna fix it.

  I return to the couch for the few minutes before I have to leave and lean my head back against the headrest. I know what emotional whiplash feels like now. Shit.

  There’s a solid knock against my front door. When I pull it open the bright blue eyes of my brother Tyson meet mine. “Thought you might like a ride to the meeting.”

  I frown. Not sure that I’m up for the company. But force myself to say, “Yeah, sure. That would be fine.”

  Tyson’s looking polished too, crisply ironed shirt and tie. I know him coming with me is a good thing. Tyson and the other Archers got serious cred with the county. I’d like to get my job back. But I’ve decided whatever happens happens.

  We walk silently to his truck and climb in. I watch the trees slide by as we drive the few miles to the county building.

  Tyson finally interrupts my thoughts. “I’m glad your case got dismissed.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty bogus. Not that I didn’t get in a fight, but I was hardly the instigator. Now if the county has as much empathy I’ll be in good shape.”