Page 61 of Unbroken Rules (Rules 3)

The look on his face.

“No sex. No kissing. Nothing.” I stride out of the room. Haze’s footsteps closely match mine.

“Please tell me this is a joke.” He pins me against the bathroom door before I can open it. Slamming both his hands on each side of my head, he keeps me drilled into place. He’s still hard as a rock, aching for my touch.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” I slip from his reach through the void under his arm. I’ve never, in my entire life, walked into the bathroom and locked the door so fast.

“Fucking hell, Winter. I hate you so much right now.” He tries the knob a few times and pounds on the door.

“I love you, too.” I start the shower.

“Don’t play this game with me. I promise you’re going to lose, and defeat is going to hurt,” he warns.

“How about this? First one to touch the other loses. If it’s you, we get a dog. If it’s me, you’ll never have to hear the word dog again. Now if you’ll excuse me. I have a shower to take.”

“Just open the door. I swear to God—”

“What was that? I can’t hear you.” I slide my shorts to my feet and enter the shower’s hot steam. He doesn’t answer for a while. Then, finally, just before he walks off, he says words even hotter than my

shower.

“Game on.”

13

Closer

HAZE

What would you do if life gave you a second chance? Would you take it? Or tell yourself that everything happens for a reason? If someone came up to you with a time machine and asked, “Do you want to go back?”

Would you?

I’m guessing many would, and part of me would, too.

But the other part…

The other part knows that what happened to Desiree led me to Winter. My obsession with Marcus, the urge to learn to fight so that I would never be weak again, all of it carved the path that took me straight to her.

To the only girl I’ve ever loved.

Would I give up love for family? Would I lose Winter to save Desiree? I think that’s a question I’ll never be able to answer. My head is down, my throat sore and my breathing sharp. It’s become a goddamn habit of mine. Whenever I’m meeting up with Ricky, I’m also meeting up with my fears. The anxiety never leaves me.

But Winter will.

Shut up, inner Haze.

You would think four months of dead ends would make this easier—it doesn’t. I clench my fists as I recall the ridiculous leads that I’ve been following since June. After we tracked him to the creepy-ass motel, it all stopped. The transactions, the clues, everything. Almost like someone wanted me to find the place. It was too easy. I haven’t been able to stop wondering if it was a test. A way to see who would come looking. A means to an end.

On a slightly brighter note, I’m starting to know the area’s poorly frequented spots like the back of my hands. From abandoned warehouses to sketchy bars, I’ve seen enough dumps for a lifetime. I met up with the shadiest people on earth, but none of them told me any valuable information. Some say they’ve seen a guy who matches the description, but seeing the guy and knowing where he is are two very different things. Not to mention there’s no way to know if they’re being truthful or taking advantage of a desperate kid. The last dirtbag said he heard of a Marcus: a guy on the run, a drunk, a drug addict, a waste of oxygen.

But I don’t think putting my trust in the hands of someone whose only friend is the bottom of a bottle is a good idea.

I just dropped Winter off at Allie’s house for the day. She said she didn’t want to stay home alone during my “shift” at the auto-repair shop.

I fucking hate myself.

She would hate me, too, if she knew where I was really going. Where I’ve been going every night since we moved in together. I had to come up with an excuse so she wouldn’t get suspicious whenever I went to meet Ricky.