The Edge Rules (The Rules Series Book 3)

by Melanie Hooyenga

  “What do you mean he wouldn’t let you?” I’m treading a thin line here, but I feel like I’m getting through to her and can’t give up now.

  Edge Rule #9: You can only ride the edge for so long. At some point you have to pick a side.

  Her eyes fill with tears.

  Shit. I pushed her too far. “We don’t have to talk about this. I didn’t mean to—”

  A tear slides down her cheek and something inside me breaks for her. “He’s not—” she pauses, and I hold my breath. “He’s not always the nicest to me.”

  “Like verbally, or…” I don’t finish the sentence. I can feel my claws coming out.

  “That, and sometimes…” she stops again. More tears spill over her lashes.

  I scoot to the edge of my chair and rest my hand on her arm. She jumps at the contact, but I don’t pull away. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this protective of someone, but I silently vow to do whatever I can to help her. “Has he hurt you?”

  It’s like I uncorked a dam. Her shoulders shake as she sobs silently. A few people look our way but I scowl at them and they turn back to their drinks.

  “I’m so sorry.” I want to help but this is so outside my comfort zone I don’t know where to start. “What can I do?”

  She looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. Since I’ve met her she’s seemed like one of the strongest people I know, but now, sitting in this coffee shop, she seems broken. Defeated. “Don’t tell anyone?”

  “Drea.”

  “I’m serious. I don’t know what he’d do if he found out I told anyone.”

  “Drea.” I repeat her name, louder, trying to wake her up. “You can’t stay with him.”

  Another sob shakes her body and I slide closer until our knees are touching. “I don’t have a choice.”

  Fury bubbles through me and I want to break something. Or hit someone. I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. “I promise I will help you. We’ll figure this out.” I squeeze her arm lightly. “Can you promise me something?”

  Her head shakes from side to side. “What?”

  “Please call me if you ever need help.”

  “O-okay.” Her hand covers mine and I have the overwhelming urge to throw her in my car and hide her in my room. “I can do that.”

  We finish our coffees and somehow manage to steer the conversation to less tear-inducing topics. When we leave, I walk her to her car. “I kind of don’t want to let you go home.”

  She sniffles and gives me a weak smile. “I’ll be okay.”

  “I wish I believed that.”

  “Bri, thank you for listening to me. Just that helped so much.”

  But it’s not enough! “Okay.”

  “See you Thursday?” she asks.

  I nod and we say our goodbyes. By the time I get home I’m so frustrated at not knowing how to help her that I decide I need reinforcements.

  I need your advice.

  Xavier writes back almost immediately. With what?

  Drea. What we feared is true.

  The boyfriend?

  Yeah.

  He doesn’t reply for several moments. No bouncing dots, just silence. Finally his reply comes through. Shit.

  Yeah, I repeat.

  Can you come over tomorrow?

  The invitation catches me off guard. Was he already planning to ask, or does he want me to come over to talk about Drea? Which would be weird, but I’ll take it. Sure.

  I was gonna ask you but you texted first.

  My pulse quickens. I’m glad.

  Uncertainty over a boy’s feelings is an unfamiliar sensation, and I don’t know why I keep going back and forth with Xavier. Doubting myself is new territory, and while the rush I felt while reading his text is addictive, the letdown I fear will come when he finds out the truth makes me want to protect my heart.

  He texts me his address and we say good night, and I can’t shake the fear that when this blows up, it’s going to hurt worse than everything else that’s happened this year.

  The navigation system in my 4Runner leads me to a white two-story house with blue shutters in a neighborhood twenty minutes from home. I park in the driveway behind Subie. A dog barks from across the street when I get out of the car, and when I pull out my phone to text Xavier that I’m here, he opens the door before I can hit send.

  Has it really only been four days since I’ve seen him? He’s wearing a dark gray waffle shirt with the sleeves pushed up, showing off his tattoo, and his eyes lock on mine, drawing me toward him. “Did you find it okay?” he asks.

  “Navigation is a girl’s best friend.”

  He smiles, and my stomach flips. “Come on in.” He holds out his hand, and when I slip my fingers through his, heat races through me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if anyone else is home, but I don’t want him to think that all I want is to get him alone.

  Even if that’s all I’ve been thinking of since last night.

  “Do you like hot chocolate?” he asks as he leads me through the front door.

  “Does the Pope live in the Vatican?” He raises an eyebrow at me and I laugh. “That would be a yes.”

  We walk past a cozy living room decked out for Christmas into a kitchen bursting with color. Yellow walls frame a terra cotta tiled floor and colorful jars line the counter. A square wooden table sits in the corner and fresh fruit hangs in a tiered basket over the sink.

  I follow the scent of chocolate to a small pot simmering on the stove. “You’re like, cooking hot chocolate?”

  He stirs the liquid with a wooden spoon. “How else do you make it?”

  “I don’t know. The microwave?”

  He presses a hand to his chest. “Sacrilege.” He stirs it once more and sets the spoon across the top of the pan. His movements are relaxed, like he spends a lot of time in here.

  “I’m impressed.”

  He smiles. “That’s not why I’m making it, but I’m glad.” He takes my hand and tugs me toward him. I slide my arms around his waist and rest my forehead against his neck, and his arms wrap around me. The sweet scent of chocolate fills the room and I inhale deeply, settling tighter into his embrace. He rests his head on mine and I’m thinking I could stay here forever when someone sighs dramatically behind us.

  “Ay, hermano, get a room.”

  I lift my head to see a female version of Xavier. Same black hair except past her shoulders, same gorgeous skin, and same soulful dark eyes. Instead of tattoos, she’s wearing heavy eyeliner and bright red lipstick. She smiles at us and raises an eyebrow when she sees me watching her.

  She holds out her hand and I disentangle myself from her brother. “Mucho gusto. I’m Lily.”

  I take her hand, then go one step further and brush my cheek against hers the way Javi and Gladys did at the restaurant. “Brianna. Nice to meet you.”

  She gives him a pleased smile, which I hope means I did the right thing.

  Xavier squeezes her shoulder. “Qué pasa, calabaza?

  “Nada, nada, limonada,” she replies, her smile growing. She picks up the spoon and stirs the chocolate. “Is there enough for me?”

  “Only if you promise to leave us alone.”

  She presses her hand to her chest the same way he did a minute ago. “You wound me.”

  “How was school?” he asks, and a ripple of tension moves through him.

  She shrugs, either oblivious to his concern or so used to it she no longer reacts. “It was school. I was there. No need to worry about me today, hermano.” She touches his chin and gives him a smile that probably gets her anything she wants, then sits at the wooden table. “I’ll get out of your hair as soon as it’s ready.”

  Questions pile on top of each other, but I can’t ask any of them until we’re alone.

  “So, Brianna. How’d you two meet?”

  My eyes flash to Xavier, unsure if I should tell the truth, but he handles it for me.

  “Community service,” he says. “We both went for the same used condom and the rest is
history.”

  I burst out laughing, but Lily doesn’t look amused.

  “Don’t tell that to Mom.” Her gaze falls on me. “No offense, but you’ll never get a foot in this house again if she thinks you’ll corrupt her precious Xavi.” The irony that my parents would probably think the same thing of him without even knowing how we met nearly knocks me over. Are we stupid to think this can work?

  He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Don’t listen to her. But maybe we tell my mom we met snowboarding.” He smiles against my hand and my stomach does a lazy flip. His eyes have a way of pulling me toward him and I step closer until our hips touch.

  The chair squeaks on the tile as Lily stands. “Go ahead and pour mine. I’m sure it’s ready.”

  “You know how to do it,” Xavier says, his eyes never leaving mine.

  A cupboard opens and closes, then Lily’s pouring the liquid chocolate from the pan to a mug. She sets it back on the stove with a clang. “You better stir that so it doesn’t burn. Nice meeting you, Brianna.”

  “You too.”

  She pads out of the room and Xavier reaches for the spoon without releasing me. But instead of stirring, he holds the spoon to my mouth. “Taste it.”

  I open my mouth and he rests the spoon against my lips, and everything inside me flares to life. The chocolate is rich and decadent and has a spiciness that makes the flavor practically explode on my tongue. “Oh my god, that’s so good.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” He licks the edge of the spoon and that hint of his tongue puts a million dirty thoughts in my mind. He turns slightly, just enough to give the chocolate a stir, then sets the spoon back on the pan.

  The moment he turns back to me, our mouths collide in a mix of sweetness and heat. We explore each other, standing in the middle of his kitchen, and when he backs me up to the counter and presses the length of his body against mine, I nearly lose my mind. My hands crawl under the edge of his shirt and trail over his skin, making him sigh against me.

  “The chocolate’s going to burn,” he whispers against my mouth.

  “Would that really be so bad?”

  He laughs softly. “Yes, it would. And you only had a taste.” He backs away, and I’m sure the lust in his eyes is matched in my own. He’s right about wanting more than a taste. Just kissing him isn’t going to be enough.

  Once the hot chocolate is poured into matching ceramic mugs, he leads me to the living room. He sits on the couch and I nestle in next to him. “My mom won’t be home for at least an hour so—”

  I don’t waste any time brushing my lips against his. But this time our kiss is softer, slower. I sink into his arms as his hand moves up my neck and into my hair, and rest my hand on his hip. As much as I’d love to push this further, his sister is in the house and I’ve learned from past experience that parents have a tendency to come home early when their children are counting on them being late.

  We end the kiss and I rest my head against his shoulder. “It’s so cozy here.” Lights from the Christmas tree blink lazily, bathing the walls with flashes of green and red. Blankets and throw pillows adorn the couch and loveseat, and there are plants and photos and general evidence of a family living here that makes my house seem cold and sterile. I reach for my hot chocolate and inhale deeply before taking a sip. This is so much better than anything I’ve ever made.

  “I like it here,” he says, reaching for his mug. “When my parents split up I thought we might have to move, but Dad just left. This is the only house I’ve ever lived in.”

  Sudden tears prick my eyes. Our house is the only one I’ve ever known too, and now we have to leave. “My mom and I have to move in a couple weeks.”

  He dips his head to look in my eyes and I blink away the tears. “Aww, that sucks. I’m sorry. Do you know where you’re going?”

  “A townhouse. I didn’t ask where, but I guess I should. And we have to start packing.” The details of moving hadn’t hit me until just now. It’s taken years to get my room to its current state of perfection. How will I undo all that? Or recreate it someplace new?

  “Let me know if I can help.”

  The image of Xavier in my frilly room, lying beneath the canopy on my bed, pushes away my anxiety. I set down my mug and touch his jaw.

  His lips part, his eyelids heavy. “What?”

  “I was just picturing you in my room and—”

  Then those lips cover mine and he leans into me so I fall back on the couch.

  “Your chocolate.”

  His mug clinks on the table and his hands move up my side. He shifts his weight so he’s on an elbow and knee, hovering over me. My legs are still hanging off the couch, my body twisted, so I lift my legs and stretch them out alongside him. He lowers himself and we’re chest to chest, hip to hip, and my leg hooks around his, holding him in place. It’s been so long since I’ve been held like this, like I’m the most important thing in the world and nothing else matters.

  With Austin—No. He’s not ruining this.

  Xavier is kissing me, devouring me, and everything about him is intoxicating. The smell and taste of the chocolate intensifies my senses and when he presses his hips against mine, it takes all my strength not to drag him to his room.

  He breaks the kiss, and for a moment the only sound is our heavy breathing. “I really want to bring you upstairs but my mom would kill us.”

  “Us? Not just you?” I smile against his cheek.

  “Double homicide for sure.”

  My hand moves over his side and settles low on his hip. “So finding us like this would probably be bad, too, huh?”

  “Attempted murder, at least.”

  I move my hand to a less provocative spot on his back and sigh. He nuzzles his nose against my neck and inhales, then kisses just below my ear and pushes off of me. It’s cold without his body against mine. I sit up and reach for my mug, resting it in my lap. “I do want to talk to you about Drea.”

  His smile fades, the mood effectively killed. “She told you he’s hitting her?”

  Our conversation replays in my mind. “Not in those exact words, but it was pretty clear. She was crying really hard and basically said she’s afraid to leave him.”

  He rubs his hand over his face.

  “I hate to drag you into this, especially after…” I trail off, my mind running upstairs to Lily’s room. I touch his hand with mine. “But I don’t know what to do.”

  “I don’t know if there’s much we can do. Try to talk to her more. Make sure she knows she can trust you.” He says it so easily, like having someone trust me is the most natural thing in the world, and I’m gripped with fear that he’ll find out the truth about me.

  “I can do that.” My voice isn’t as confident as it should be, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  “And promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do.”

  My hand covers his and I stroke his knuckles, imagining them torn up after the fight.

  He looks up. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt protecting someone else.”

  He stares at our hands and flexes his fingers beneath mine. “I promised my mom I wouldn’t do that again.”

  “Good.”

  We fall into silence, each lost in our thoughts, and I rest my head against his shoulder. We’re sitting like that when the front door opens. He straightens, but keeps his arm around me as an adult version of Lily enters the room. Her sleek black hair is twisted into a low bun and she’s wearing a suit that could rival anything in Mom’s closet. But instead of the suspicious, one-eyebrow-raised smirk I’d get from Mom, her smile is full of warmth.

  “Mom, this is Brianna. Brianna, this is my mom.”

  I start to stand but she rushes forward and waves for me to stay seated.

  “Don’t get up.” She takes my hand and bends over to press her cheek to mine. Then she brushes her hand over Xavier’s cheek. “Xavi told me about this new guera he’s dating, but he didn’t say how b
eautiful she is.” She smiles at me again. “We can chat after I change clothes.”

  “Okay.” People have been telling me I’m beautiful since I turned thirteen and sprouted breasts, so I’m not sure why her compliment has me so flustered. Maybe it’s because she’s completely unlike what I expected—polished and kind, like how I wish my mother was—not to mention as gorgeous as her kids.

  Xavier kisses my shoulder. “I knew she’d like you.”

  “Your mom is a hottie.”

  He laughs softly. “My friends love coming over.”

  This time I laugh. “I bet.”

  His lips find the soft spot under my ear and I melt into him. “You’re a good person,” he whispers. “Of course she likes you.”

  The voice in my head tries to argue but I shut her up. How can I tell him the truth? Maybe he’ll never find out, or if he does, we’ll already be—what? In love? But it doesn’t matter. The minute Mom finds out about him she’ll make me end it. It won’t make a difference that he’s the most stand-up guy I’ve ever met—one look at him and it’ll be non-negotiable. All she’ll see is tattoos and piercings, not this sweet, wonderful boy. Maybe I should confess everything and save us the trouble of getting more wrapped up in each other.

  His finger trails along my cheekbone. “Hey, where’d you go?”

  I blink away my thoughts, meeting his gaze. How can I throw him away? “Sorry, just thinking about stuff at home. Your mom is nothing like mine.” His brow furrows and I smile. “That’s a good thing. My temper doesn’t come from nowhere.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  His face is just inches from mine, so I sneak a kiss before his mom comes back. I’m expecting a quick brush of our lips, but he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss and making my head spin. My hand slides up his arm and over his shoulder, settling at the back of his neck, while his roams over my hip. I want to pull him on top of me the way we were earlier, but I also want his mom to like me. I gently pull away, dropping kisses along his neck to his collarbone until our breathing returns to normal.

  By the time his mom comes down the stairs, only our knees are touching and we’re sipping our now-cold chocolate. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a loose top and settles into the chair next to the couch.