Page 79 of Your Rule to Break
It’s like I’ve held out for someone like him, my whole life. He’s someone I could love, day in and day out. And I feel like he’d let me.
I put my head in my hands, thinking about love—what that means, how it fits in my life, as the waves crash on the beach. How it seems like so much work until you meet someone and you enrich each other’s lives.
I’m not saying I love him.
But I’m not saying I don’t either.
While I’m waiting for Zack to find me, the minutes stretch and feel too long. I watch as people from the wedding start heading toward where we’re having the rehearsal.
Checking the time, I see he’s fifteen minutes late—no texts or calls from him.
Where is he?
Chapter 42
Zack
“What did you justsay?” I ask the random person standing in front of me, who I’ve never met in my entire life, claiming to be my brother.
“I know it sounds bizarre, and us running into each other like this is a complete coincidence. But you’re my brother. My half-brother.”
He’s speaking English but it feels like these words don’t belong together.
“I think you’ve got your lines crossed. I don’t have a brother. I have a sister—”
“Riley. Yeah. I know. Chris told me.”
Chris. My dad.
I put my hands on my hips and stare at him. Now, this is information someone could get from a Google search, but why? What’s the angle?
“This isn’t bullshit. I’m telling you the truth. I’ll tell you everything.” He waves as he takes a couple steps forward.
My brain can’t compute what’s happening. The gaps can’t be filled in.
When he realizes I’m not following, he stops. “Let me guess. Your dad just got a hold of you about needing to talk when you’re back home, right?”
How the fuck does he know that?
“If you’re fucking with me—” I say, rubbing my hands together.
“Why would I do that? I’m not fucking with you. Come on.”
I look to the beach and then back at this guy. Brooks. I take him in, and it’s hard to not notice the similarities. My stomach turns into a pit, a mile deep, because all I can think about is my dad and how he’s been acting.
He’s not sick but he does have a secret he’s been keeping.
“I’m Brooks Pittman. I play for the New Jersey Jaguars.”
“Did you follow me here?”
He wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “What? No. Fuck no. It’s the opening week for the NBA, and they’re trying to tap into some international markets. Our first two games are in Mexico. I didn’t know you were here until I legit saw you walking around five minutes ago.”
I follow enough about the NBA to know he’s telling the truth about the markets.
Brooks continues. “Listen, I know this is shocking, and I fucking get it. I didn’t sign up for any of this either.”
The waves crashing on the beach remind me of Emilie, waiting for me. If anyone would understand, it’s her. I’ll listen to whatever Brooks has to say, and then I’ll find her. Fuck, I’ll bring him with me if I think I’ll need it.