Page 33 of No Rules

“Cute?”

Shit, his sister always saw more than he wanted to. “Very cute.”

Rachelle cocked her head. “You doing some extracurricular activities with him?”

“Extracurricular activities?” His mom snorted. “Is that what the kids are callin’ it these days?”

Rachelle patted her hand. “I was trying to protect your delicate sensibilities, Momma.”

Now it was Ryan’s turn to snort-laugh. “Delicate? Mom is as strong as an oak in a Texas thunderstorm.”

“Damn straight.” His mom sounded proud. She should be. She was the strongest person Ryan had ever met. “And don’t give me that BS with euphemisms about sex. Just call it what it is. I got pregnant at seventeen, so it’s not like I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about.”

Rachelle held up her hands. “Okay, okay. So, are you fucking him?”

Jesus, why had the good Lord seen it fit to bless him with an equally sassy sister? “I am. Nothing serious though. We’re just having fun.”

“Are you playing as a Dom with him?” Rachelle’s tone was casual, but her eyes held genuine concern.

Ryan glanced over at his mom. She could take a lot and knew about this part of his life, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. But she nodded, giving her permission for the topic. He shifted in his seat. “No, I haven’t been a Dom since Quinton died.”

A heavy silence fell over them. Ryan clenched his fists. How many dark nights had he spent alone those first months, tormented by guilt and the memory of Quinton’s voice whispering sweet words of submission in his ear? It had been a never-ending nightmare.

“Ryan,” Rachelle said, “I know this is hard for you, but you can’t keep blaming yourself. You need to let go of your guilt.”

His jaw tightened, and anger flared within him. How could they understand what he had lost? What he had failed to protect? “I appreciate your concern.” He gritted his teeth and forced the words out. “But it’s not that simple.”

His mom placed her hand on his arm for a moment. “We don’t want you to suffer. We love you, and we want you to be happy. And bein’ a Dom made you happy.”

Oh, it had. Until it had all come crashing down on him.

The air in the room seemed to thicken with tension. “You don’t understand. I should’ve been there for him. I should’ve protected him. It was my job as his boyfriend, his Dom, and as a cop, and I failed in all three roles. Quinton died because of me!”

“No, honey, he didn’t,” his mom said, her voice firm yet gentle. She reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled away instinctively, unable to bear the weight of her concern.

“Momma, please,” he growled, frustration boiling within him. “I was the one who put Quinton in that situation. If I hadn’t been so damn stubborn to go after that guy, if I’d given up when they warned me, maybe things would be different. Maybe Quinton would still be alive.”

His mom’s gaze was steady and unwavering. “You did everything you could at the time. It’s not fair to blame yourself for somethin’ you couldn’t have possibly known would happen.”

His breath hitched as he fought to maintain control over his emotions. He wanted to believe her, but the guilt had rooted itself deep inside him like an invasive vine, choking out every rational thought. “You don’t know what it’s like…” He clenched his fists as he stared at the worn wooden floorboards. “Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. Hear his screams. And I know I’m responsible.”

“You arenotresponsible for the actions of a madman. Only God himself could’ve stopped him, and last time I checked, you aren’t the Almighty.” His mom’s Texas drawl softened the harshness of her words. “You can’t control what other people do, and you can’t keep punishin’ yourself for something you had no hand in.”

“Besides, Ryan,” Rachelle added, “Quinton wouldn’t want you to live like this. He’d want you to be happy and move on.”

The mention of what Quinton would have wanted pierced through the fog of his anger. His heart ached with longing for the man he’d loved and lost. A deep, guttural sigh escaped him as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

Ryan’s gaze flickered between his mother and sister, whose words chipped away at the wall of guilt he’d built around himself. Deep down, he knew they were right, but accepting their reassurances felt like a betrayal to Quinton’s memory.

“Maybe you’re right,” he admitted. “But it’s not that easy. The guilt…it’s a part of me now. I don’t know if I can ever let it go.”

“It ain’t gonna be easy,” his mom agreed. “But it starts with you decidin’ this is what you want to do.”

Did he want to let go of his guilt? It meant letting go of Quinton in a way, and was he ready to do that? Alex’s face drifted into his mind, his laughter, the sparkle in those bright-blue eyes, the way he could look at Ryan with utter adoration. If he wanted to consider a future with Alex, he had to let go of the past.

Wait, what? Since when were Alex and a future two things that came together in the same sentence? What the hell was happening?

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that…”