Rule Breakers (Off Limits #2) - Nicky James Page 0,67

was music playing softly in the background, the nineties grunge shit my dad liked. When I poked my head into the kitchen, they were wrapped up in each other, leaning against the counter while a pan full of little circular batter blobs fried.

Uncle Denver’s hands were down the back of Dad’s joggers, kneading his ass as they talked quietly, kissing and laughing.

There was a tiny knot in my gut, but it wasn’t like before. I evaluated the situation, deciding how it made me feel. They hadn’t noticed me and were lost in their little bubble.

Denver and I were like this when Dad wasn’t around, and I could imagine Dad and I being the same now that we’d shattered the barriers between us. Was I okay with it? Was I jealous?

A little, but not like before. I understood I was part of this now and that we all had a unique connection with each other.

Testing myself, I stayed quiet and watched them together. Until my pancakes threatened to burn.

“They won’t flip themselves,” I said.

Two sets of eyes darted my way. Uncle Denver said “Shit” as he shoved Dad away and focused on flipping the pancakes. Dad just looked at me like I’d hung the moon or something. It made me shift my weight and look at the ground once before glancing up again. My cheeks warmed. There was a twinkle in his eyes I’d never seen before, a smile on his face he’d never used with me.

I liked it.

“Keep an eye on him so he doesn’t ruin our food,” Dad said as he met me at the door. He touched my hip, leaned in, and pecked my mouth, lingering a minute and sighing. “I’m gonna clean up. Don’t eat all my pancakes, brat.”

“I won’t.”

I kissed him again before he walked away, and whatever knot had formed loosened a bit more.

I held the plates while Uncle Denver stacked a ridiculous amount of pancakes onto each. He found real maple syrup in the fridge, the stuff Dad was always too cheap to buy, and set it on the table. I helped myself to a big glass of milk while Uncle Denver made two more coffees.

Dad joined us a short time later, devouring his breakfast like a starved man. I sensed something in the air between the three of us, so when Uncle Denver finished eating first and said, “We should discuss this dynamic,” I wasn’t surprised.

Dad cleared the table, leaving the dishes in the sink, and Uncle Denver suggested we take the conversation into the living room. I wasn’t entirely sure what all we were going to talk about, but I was determined to be an adult about whatever it was and not give either of them a reason to call me a child.

Dad sat on Uncle Denver’s cushy chair while I sat on the couch next to Uncle Denver. My uncle wrapped his arm around me, tucking me against his side and keeping me close. I watched Dad for a reaction, but he didn’t flinch.

He must have noticed me checking because it was Dad who spoke first. “It doesn’t bother me, Eddy. Not even a little bit.”

My cheeks warmed, and I dashed my gaze away. I didn’t know I was so transparent.

“If you two were here one night while I was at work and decided to get frisky without me, I still wouldn’t care. Though I might want a play-by-play later.” He wiggled his brows.

I felt the heat of their eyes on me. Both of them. They were waiting for a response, so I said, “Okay.”

“And,” Uncle Denver added, “if you and your dad want to explore this new thing between you and I’m not here, I’m cool with that too. I kinda expect it. Promote it even.”

My heart thrummed a heavy beat against my ribs, and my palms grew slick. “Okay,” I said again.

“Edison.” Dad waited until I looked at him to go on. “Your feelings are important too. That’s why we’re talking about this. If you don’t like the idea of Denver and I doing anything while you’re not around, you need to speak up. You’re allowed to feel jealous. You’re allowed to have an opinion. You’re allowed to say no. It might take some time for you to feel comfortable in this dynamic, and that’s fair, and we respect that. But we need you to communicate your feelings. Honestly.”

My shoulders slumped. As hard as I’d tried, as much as I’d fought it, I was the child in the room.