TWENTY
CALEB
Rule #908: Exert self-discipline around your stepsister for fuck’s sake.
I’ve been addingrules at an alarming rate lately. I started with maybe 600 in my notebook. Now I’m at 908.
That’s 308 new rules since Harper arrived.
I’m creating rules faster than I can follow them. And breaking them just as fast.
Rule #909: Don’t think about following her upstairs.
Rule #910: Don’t imagine what studying in her room would actually involve.
Rule #911: Stop making rules you know you’regoing to break.
Because I really want to follow her up the stairs.
If Mom or Silas asks, I’ll say we’re studying. Not even a lie. I’ve been studying her for weeks—her voice, her habits, the exact curve of her mouth when she’s trying not to laugh. I could write a dissertation with citations.
But crossing the threshold into her bedroom?
That wouldn’t be studying.
Not unless you count mapping every inch of her body with my lips. Oh my god, she’s sexy. Or memorizing the sound she makes when I hold her like she’s the only thing I’ll ever need.
The thought hits low and hard, all heat and no mercy. I rub both hands over my face like I can scrub it away, but it’s useless.
My hands are shaking. I shove them in my pockets. Thumb to index, index to middle, middle to ring, ring to pinky.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
The pattern doesn’t help. Nothing helps when it comes to Harper.
I can still feel her from this morning—curled against me, soft and warm and fast asleep, trusting me with a part of her she doesn’t give anyone.
Her birthday is tomorrow.
Less than 48 hours now. 47 hours and 23 minutes, to be exact. 2,843 minutes. 170,580 seconds.
I had to leave before she woke up. If she’d looked at me like that—barefaced and real, hair pressed to my chest, her fingers fisted in my shirt—I wouldn’t have been able to walk away.
Anddammit.
Not only is it too soon for that, but unless her plans have changed—and she’s so stubborn, I’m betting they haven’t—she’s still going to leave and marry another man in less than 48 hours…
Her birthday is tomorrow.
And yet…
The way she curled into me last night—like I was home—made me feel… It made me feelwant. And not just the obvious, immediate body kind.
I’d forgotten what it’s like to want things. I spent all my time striving so hard to please everybody else; anything I wanted just never seemed as important. It felt selfish to want anything too much.
But being with Harper…
It’s like coming alive again.