Page 56 of Unwritten Rules

My face freezes momentarily at her use of my given name. My mother always called me Nathaniel.

“What if you’re prosecuted for something I did? I killed…I-I killed…” Her words stutter to a halt as her emotions overwhelm her.

I sit stupidly for a long minute. Having never been faced with such raw emotion in a long time, I’m suddenly stumped as to how to react, which is obscene for me.

I always know what to do.

Before I’ve had a conscious thought, I’m out the driver’s side door, around the car, and yanking open the passenger door.

“Out, Mila. Now.”

She turns her tear-streaked face up towards me, frowning as she does. “What?”

Instead of repeating myself, I reach for her hand and gently but firmly make her step out of the car.

She throws her hands up in exasperation. “What was the fucking point in that?”

Rather than answer, I reach out and pull her against my chest. Her tiny body initially tenses in my hold until I rest my cheek on the crown of her head, and the rigidity in her shoulders lessens.

“Mila, you did what you had to do, okay?”

She tenses slightly when I speak, but I rush on.

“One day, littlest DeMarco, I’ll tell you all about striving for atonement, yeah? But for now, try to remember you just saved your brother’s life. So, excuse me for trying to do my part by protecting you, okay?”

She nods in my embrace, her body softening against mine as I feel a surge of protectiveness flow through me.

“Thank you.” Her words are a whisper as they land on my ears, but the tone is no less heartfelt.

“I’m here, littlest DeMarco. In whatever capacity you need, okay?”

We stand silent for several minutes as a handful of cars zip past unheeded until she steps from my hold.

Something is different about her when my eyes find hers. I can’t pinpoint it, but I know it’s there.

She slips past me and rounds to the driver’s side. “It would really make my day a whole lot better if you’d agree to let me drive the rest of the way…” She turns wide, utterly fake innocent eyes on me, and all I can do is chuckle as I nod, helpless to say no.

Shooting me a wide-ass grin, she ducks into the driver’s seat when suddenly it strikes me.

Her eyes were golden instead of their usual green. They’d been positively glowing in her tanned face.

Shaking it off, I slide in beside her.

Her enthusiasm at being behind the wheel is contagious, her grin bright as she revs the accelerator and peels out of there as if she belongs in Fast and Furious.

* * *

That had been the start. That hug. That interaction. I’d signed my own death sentence when I’d offered to drive her home to her fraught mother following the events of her kidnapping.

But would you change a damn thing if you could, Hawthorne?

That’s the question I’ve been asking myself for years now, and I’m none the fucking wiser.

And so, still at a loss, I rest my back against the headboard of my old bed until her breathing slows and evens out. Until the nightmares have receded once more, all under my rapt gaze.

My eyes sweep across each delicate line of her perfect face, like a thief in the night stealing a moment I’m not meant to have.

Stealing joy when I’m wholly undeserving.