Rule Breakers (Off Limits #2) - Nicky James Page 0,35

away, throwing dirty, slushy snow off its back tires as it fought for traction, I ducked inside the bus shelter to regroup before heading to Mom’s.

It was cold. The wind was fierce outside the city where there were fewer buildings to block its assault. I pulled up my hood, despite wearing a wool hat, and zipped my coat as high as it went. My fingers were frozen, but I left my gloves in my pockets as I sneered at my phone. This was not how things were supposed to unfold.

I scrolled through my contacts until I found Dad’s number and hit Connect. Every time it rang, my stomach flopped a little more. I couldn’t precisely pinpoint the cause. Was it embarrassment and shame at what my dad and I had shared? Or was it nerves because I secretly thought it wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated, and I might entertain the possibility of more? If it was the latter, then was I afraid of how that would make me look in Dad’s eyes? How did he feel about this? Did I need therapy? Was this some childhood trauma from growing up in a house with two parents who didn’t know how to love me properly? Oh my god. Did I have daddy issues?

Probably.

“Hello?”

I gulped and adjusted my backpack. “Hey, Dad.”

A pause. With the cold air stinging my cheeks, that pause felt endless.

“What’s up?” The question carried a hint of apprehension. For all Dad had aimed to sound casual and in control, he’d failed.

“I, um… Can you pick me up from Mom’s in an hour? We’re having dinner tonight. Uncle Denver was going to, but he can’t come until after nine now, and I don’t want to be stuck there that long.” I bounced on my toes to keep my blood flowing and tacked on, “Please.”

There was shuffling, and Dad blew out a breath. “Yeah. Sure. In an hour? Is that enough time?”

“Maybe an hour and a half. I’m not there yet, so I don’t know for sure if dinner’s even ready. I just want to eat and leave.”

“Where are you?”

“Bus stop. The roads are pretty bad, by the way.”

“I’ll give myself extra time.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I was about to disconnect when Dad interrupted. “Hey, Edison?”

I gulped. “Yeah?”

A pause.

I heard him breathing, but he didn’t speak for a full minute. When he did, his tone was careful. Hushed. “Maybe we should talk, yeah?”

My heart hammered in my ears, and I was no longer cold. In fact, a layer of sweat gathered on my body under my jacket. “Yeah. O-okay.”

“See you in a bit.” He hung up so fast I questioned if that last part had actually happened.

I guess I was getting what I asked for. We were going to talk about it. Initially, everyone seemed happy to ignore the situation, and now everyone seemed to want to break open Pandora’s box and discuss what we’d found inside.

Lovely.

While I trudged through the snow, I did all I could to erase the activities from the previous Friday from my head. The last thing I needed was to be sitting at a table with my mother while contemplating the realistic nature of sharing a bed with her ex-husband. My dad. Wow, that was pretty fucked up.

Dr. Phil would have a field day with my family.

The lights were on and shining out the front window. With the curtains drawn aside, a puddle of artificial light spilled onto the foot-high snowbank that had gathered on the bushes out front. A hockey game played on the TV at a volume so loud it bled through the brick walls.

I pounded several times on the door, but no one answered. Rolling my eyes, I let myself in lest I wind up standing in a blizzard all night.

“Hello? Mom?”

Flavor-of-the-month was sprawled on the ratty brown couch, feet on the coffee table, beer in one hand, smoke in the other. He was without a shirt, and his gut hung over the waistband of his gray sweats, his hair a greasy, matted mess. He didn’t glance away from the TV when I entered, so I didn’t bother acknowledging him. I couldn’t remember his name anyhow. There wasn’t a point. Most guys who came through my mother’s life didn’t last long. A few months at best.

I shed my winter gear and called out for Mom again, glancing past the disorderly living room and the hanging cloud of cigarette smoke toward the kitchen. I caught sight of her as she topped off her wine glass,