Page 149 of Unwritten Rules

A hesitant smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, and I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my chest.

But before I can say a word, I’m flat on my back for the second time tonight.

My vision is blurry and there’s a ringing in my ears when I hear Henry roar, “What the fuck, Al?”

“Christ, Ri. His jaw is made of granite. I think his face broke my damn fist!”

I snort, drawing their attention. The DeMarco brothers’ faces swim above me. Henry’s is horrified, while Alex’s is pained as he cradles his mottled knuckles.

“Not bad for a sucker punch, middle DeMarco…” My sentence trails off as my eyes flutter closed.

Two hurdles down.

CHAPTER 41

MILA

I jolt awake when my alarm clock buzzes from its home on my bedside table. Rolling over, I quickly turn it off before flopping around onto my back to stare at the white ceiling above me.

Six weeks have passed since my flight from Hawthorne House. Six long weeks of finding who I am and what I want, now that I can’t have Nate.

I’d felt like a thief in the damn night, slipping from his home. Encouraging him to fuck me as though he hated me in an effort to assuage my own damn guilty conscience.

Writing that letter…

Even weeks later, my actions make me feel a sick churning in my gut.

Knowing that I needed to make things right with Mum before I left, I’d gone straight to my childhood home. A smile tugs at my lips as I recall our conversation.

* * *

“Mum? Are you home?”

My voice chimed through the rooms, praying that I wouldn’t be confronted by my old therapist, but knowing that this needed to be done before I left.

“I’m in the kitchen, darling.”

I find Mum, dressed in her pink satin nightrobe and fluffy slippers, perched at the breakfast bar, sipping her morning tea. Her face lights up when she sees me.

“Oh, my darling. Come here.”

My face crumples as I close the distance between us. My mother gathers me close and rubs my hair while I let all my overwrought emotions out.

“Come on, Mila. Tell me everything.”

She leads me to the living room and we sit side-by-side on the sofa as I word-vomit the whole sorry story in one long run-on sentence. When I’ve finished, my tears are a steady stream, and her eyes are filled with matching ones.

“Mila. Oh, my beautiful girl. You should have told me everything as soon as Taylor was inappropriate towards you. I can see why you wouldn’t have but, love…I will always have your corner.” She places her hands on my tear-stained cheeks. “I love you more than life.”

Leaning closer, almost conspiratorially, she winks.

“His ass is grass anyway. So good riddance, I say!”

My forehead crinkles in confusion. “But, Mum, what will you do about your inheritance now?”

She waves me away. “Pfft, I was dazzled at the idea of inheriting what should have been mine had my father not been such a miserable old shit. But I’ve since realised that he’d finally found a way to control me, even in his death. Which was what he wanted in life – and why he disinherited me in the first place.”

She chuckles. “So, he can stick my inheritance where the sun don’t shine. I was done playing by his rules years ago, darling. I…I think I may have lost the run of myself just a little.”