Page 45 of Unspoken Rules (Rules 2)

Could this kid have something to do with the empty frame and the cut picture I found on top of the fireplace?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

My heart jumps out of my chest.

I turn around and see Haze’s tall frame standing in the doorway. His eyes are hard, dark. The arctic temperature of the room is nothing compared to the icy discomfort his words bring to my soul.

“I… I’m sorry. You said to shut all the windows, and I wanted to make sure I got them all.”

“So the fact that I didn’t show you this room when I gave you a tour didn’t ring a bell?”

I don’t move or speak, frozen in place.

“Get out,” he says, and my body decides now is a good time to reconnect with my brain. I walk around him, and he locks the door. The Haze I know—or think I know—seems like a distant memory. The guy standing in the doorway was completely different. He was mean, harsh—empty. And in his eyes… was the same pain I saw on that portrait of him at fifteen.

“I’m sorry,” I say again even if I don’t understand what the big deal is.

So, he has a younger sibling. What’s the problem with me finding out?

“It’s fine. You didn’t know. Just don’t do it again.” His voice softens although he is still upset. I follow him to the first floor where a bunch of wood is waiting next to the fireplace. I look out the window and see it’s started to rain. I know the man boarding up the windows is not done yet. Hopefully, he will be soon. I wouldn’t want to be outside when the storm hits if I were him.

“Okay. Can we put this behind us, please?” I blurt out the second Haze finishes lighting the fire. The rain has only gotten worse, and thunder has joined us, too. We heard the man’s car take off in a roar around thirty minutes ago. It shouldn’t be long until the power is out, so we thought we’d get a head start and make the fire now.

It’s been awkward between us since he lashed out on me for no reason. I’d like to know why he’s so mad about something so harmless.

“Please say something.”

He turns to look at me, his eyes piercing into mine. I hold my breath, afraid of what he’s going to say.

“Something.”

Of course. Haze will be Haze.

I can’t believe I held my breath for this.

“Jerk.” I roll my eyes.

“Prude.” He smiles.

That’s how I know we’re not “fighting” anymore.

I sit on the carpet in front of the fireplace and enjoy the heat the waving flames provide. Haze sits down by my side and stretches. It must’ve taken him five minutes tops to light that fire.

“How did you know how to make a fire? Was Hazie a Scout?” I snigger.

He frowns. “Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say, Hazie.”

He sighs, but I catch his grin.

“I believe I asked you a question, mister.”

He runs a quick hand through his hair. “I wasn’t a Scout. I was a son. My dad taught me when I was a kid.”

I’m surprised by the information. Was a son? As in, not anymore? He refrains from saying anything else, but we’re making progress. This is the first time he’s voluntarily mentioned his family or a somewhat personal story since I met him. All the other facts I had to practically blackmail out of him. I’m about to ask him another question when loud thunder makes me jump.

Everything turns black.