CHAPTER THREE.CRACKS IN THE RULES
1328 Words
Morning in the Hale household always came in two speeds: Carmen’s quiet shuffle and Jaxon’s tornado.
Carmen liked slow mornings. She made her tea in her favorite chipped mug, spread jam on toast with precise strokes, and curled into the corner of the kitchen table with a book propped against a salt shaker. She lived for that silence, the kind that still smelled like dawn.
But that Saturday morning, peace was not in the cards.
“Carms!” Jaxon barreled in, hair sticking up in every direction, a T-shirt thrown on backwards. “Where’s my other shoe?”
Carmen didn’t look up from her book. “Did you check your foot?”
He glanced down. “That’s the first shoe. I mean the second one.”
She sighed. “You mean the other first shoe.”
“Don’t sass me at breakfast.” He ducked under the table like a madman. “Rex! You see my shoe?”
Rex, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee, smirked. “I don’t babysit your footwear, Jax.”
Jaxon popped up again, triumphant, waving a sneaker like he’d just won a trophy. “Found it!”
“Where?” Carmen asked.
“The fridge.”
She blinked. “Why”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” Jaxon said gravely, shoving his foot inside.
Carmen pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re going to die young.”
“Better than dying boring,” Jaxon shot back, grabbing a granola bar and bolting out the door with a wave.
The silence he left behind was immediate. Too immediate.
Carmen realized she was alone with Rex. Again.
She glanced up. He was watching her over the rim of his mug, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“You two are exhausting,” she muttered.
“You love it.”
“Love is a strong word. Tolerate, maybe.”
He chuckled, setting his mug down. “You’ve got more fire lately, Sparrow.”
Her cheeks warmed. She tried to bury herself in her book again, but he reached over and slid it shut with one finger.
“Don’t hide,” he said quietly.
She swallowed. “I’m not hiding.”
“You are. But last night…” His gaze lingered, tracing her face like it was dangerous territory. “Last night, you weren’t.”
The kitchen air thickened. Carmen’s pulse quickened.
But before she could reply, a knock sounded at the door.
She sprang up, almost too quickly, and pulled it open.
Roman stood there, awkward as ever, clutching a paper bag from the bakery down the street.
“Hey, Carmen,” he said, smiling nervously. “I, uh, brought croissants. Figured you might want breakfast.”
Her heart softened Roman always did little things like that. Quiet gestures. Safe gestures. “That’s sweet, thank you.”
From behind her, Rex’s voice cut in, smooth but edged with steel.
“She’s already eating.”
Carmen turned. Rex was still leaning against the counter, but his jaw was tight, knuckles flexing against the mug.
Roman blinked. “Oh. Uh, well, you can save them for later.” He extended the bag toward Carmen.
She accepted it with a smile, but before she could thank him again, Rex plucked the bag right out of her hands.
“I’ll take those,” Rex said.
Roman frowned. “They’re for Carmen.”
Rex smirked, tearing the bag open. “And I’ll make sure she gets one. Quality control, you know.”
Carmen gaped at him. “Rex!”
He bit into a croissant deliberately, crumbs scattering across his T-shirt. “Not bad.”
Roman’s jaw tightened. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Funny,” Rex said with a grin, “that’s exactly what she tells me every day.”
Carmen shoved him hard. “Stop it! You’re acting like a”
“Protective best friend?” Rex interrupted smoothly.
Roman’s eyes flicked between them, suspicion dawning. “Right. Best friend.”
The silence that followed was sharper than glass. Roman muttered something about needing to get to work and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
Carmen whirled on Rex. “What is wrong with you?”
His smirk faded. His eyes, dark and stormy now, locked on hers. “You shouldn’t let him in here.”
“He’s my friend.”
“He wants more than that.”
“So what if he does? He’s kind. He listens. He doesn’t treat me like a child.”
Rex’s jaw clenched. “You think I treat you like a child?”
“You call me Sparrow like I’m some fragile bird that’ll snap if the wind blows too hard!” Her voice shook, but she didn’t stop. “I’m not invisible anymore, Rex. I’m not just Jaxon’s little sister. You don’t get to scare off anyone who notices me.”
The silence that followed was electric.
Rex stared at her, breathing hard, like he was wrestling with something brutal inside himself. For a moment, she thought he’d step closer, close the distance, say the words that were clawing at his throat.
Instead, he turned away, fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t understand.”
Her voice softened. “Then explain it to me.”
But he didn’t.
Later that afternoon, Carmen escaped to the bookstore where she worked weekends. She needed space, air, anything to clear the storm Rex had stirred in her chest.
Roman was there, stacking shelves. He glanced up, hesitated, then smiled faintly. “Hey. Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to… step on toes.”
Carmen sighed. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“You looked happy to see me. That’s all I care about.” His voice was gentle, tentative.
Her chest tightened. Roman was safe. Kind. Easy. And yet her thoughts still kept circling back to Rex. His voice. His eyes. The way he made the air feel charged just by existing in the same room.
It wasn’t fair.
Roman cleared his throat. “Listen, Carmen… maybe we could hang out sometime? Just us?”
Her stomach flipped. She opened her mouth then froze.
Because standing at the end of the aisle, hidden in the shadows of the shelves, was Rex. Watching.
His expression was unreadable, but his eyes those burning, unrelenting eyes, were locked on her like a warning.
Carmen’s breath caught. Roman was still waiting, hopeful, oblivious.
And for the first time, Carmen realized she was standing on a fault line, one crack away from breaking everything she thought she knew.
That night, the Hale living room was quiet. Jaxon had gone out again, leaving Carmen curled on the couch with a blanket. She tried reading, but the words blurred. She tried watching TV, but the screen felt hollow.
The front door opened.
Rex stepped in, shoulders tense, knuckles bruised fresh from a fight. He dropped his gym bag by the door, his shirt damp with sweat.
“You shouldn’t come home like that,” she said softly.
He looked up, startled. “Didn’t think you’d still be awake.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
For a long moment, they just stared at each other. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the lamp.
Finally, she stood, crossing to him before she could overthink it. She reached for his hand, gently turning it palm-up. His knuckles were raw, skin split in places.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” she whispered.
“Not as much as this does.” His voice was low, almost broken.
She looked up, confused. “What?”
He stared at her, the storm in his eyes finally breaking. “Wanting you. Every second. And knowing I can’t have you.”
Her heart stopped.
The rules, the boundaries, Jaxon’s trust they all hung heavy in the silence. But at that moment, none of it mattered.
Because Rex Mercer had just confessed the thing she’d been terrified and desperate to hear.
- Writer
