Between Love and Hate

He Knows the Rules

*Kane's POV*

When I felt her hands creeping up my shirt to my back, it reminded me of the scars that sit there. Most of them from my father and some of them because of her. Because I took punishments for her. The hate and resentment that came along with that realization was enough to snap me out of whatever trance her lips had put me in.

Leaning back on the door to my room after shutting it quickly, I try to calm my heart rate down. I sit on the edge of my bed and put my elbows on my knees, resting my head in my hands.

Her touching my back triggered some nasty feelings to bubble over, but is it really her fault? No, I don’t think so. But at the same time, it’s safer for her to hate me. I realize that at some point since I first saw her at the frat house, my focus shifted and now, the thought that she hates me feels like a knife to the gut. f**k. This is a problem.

I try to think through my options and eventually I realize I need to apologize to her. She didn’t know. How could she have? I pull out my phone and type out a message.

Me: I’m sorry.

I watch the screen, waiting for her to reply and see the little dots pop up and disappear multiple times before a message appears.

Violet: For what?

How do I explain that? I can’t. I’m sorry for dragging her further into this mess than she already is. I’m sorry for the way I reacted to her in the bathroom. I finally settle on a simple message. I can’t possibly explain this all over text.

Me: Everything.

I wait a few minutes for her reply to come through.

Violet: I forgive u. And I’m sorry too.

I don’t know what I expected her to answer, but that wasn’t it. She forgives me? She doesn’t even know what she’s forgiving me for. And what does she have to be sorry for? This is all very confusing for me. I’m sure the bourbon isn’t helping either. I decide to just end the conversation there so I send her a Goodnight text and then place my phone on the nightstand and roll over in bed in an attempt to fall asleep.

“Mom, No!” I scream as she steps in between my father and me.

“Please, Harper, he didn’t mean it!” She says, trying to reason with him.

“Of course he did! He knows the rules!”

“I did! I know the rules! Don’t hurt her Dad!” I plead with him. I can see the moment when he realizes something.

“Well, it would seem you both deserve punishments now. And you’re both going to have front row seats.” I see the look of horror cross my mother’s face as he drags us both down to the basement. The door slams closed behind us.

I bolt upright in bed. I’m breathing heavy and my body is covered in cold sweats. It takes me a few seconds to remember where I am. I haven’t had one these all week. I guess being back in the same house as him has triggered it.

I check the time on my phone: 3am. I know I probably won’t sleep very well the rest of tonight, but I try anyway.

As expected, I spend the night drifting in and out of sleep and am lucid enough to hear Violet’s door open which causes my eyes to snap open. I check my phone to see it’s just after 7am. I wonder what she’s doing awake. I get up and open my door before my brain can consider how creepy this is.

The sound causes her to turn around to face me. I see she’s wearing leggings, a loose t-shirt and running shoes and has her phone attached to her arm with headphones hanging out of it.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” She asks me in a whisper.

“No, no. Just using the bathroom,” I reply softly.

She nods back and then quietly walks down the stairs. I go over to the railing and watch her begin to run through the front windows of the house. When I can no longer see her, I retreat back to my room. I sit up in bed and play video games on my computer for a while with no sound so I’ll be able to hear when she comes back.

When I hear her door open, I check the time and see that she’s been gone almost 2 hours. I keep watching my show, wait for the shower to shut off, her bedroom door to close and then hear her open it again and walk down the hall.

I decide to wait several minutes before heading down the stairs. I find her in the kitchen making coffee. I take a seat on one of the stools at the island.

“You know we have a housekeeper for that right? Just push the buzzer and she’ll come.”

“Yeah, but I’m very capable of doing it myself so that’s not necessary,” She says in a soft voice.

“Did you not have a housekeeper?” I ask her, out of sheer curiosity.

“I did. But I like doing things for myself,” she says. I feel like there’s more she wants to say but doesn’t. I don’t reply and find my gaze drifting down to her ass and I admire how good it looks in her jeans shorts.

She heads over to the fridge and takes out a bunch of fruits. She searches the cabinets for a cutting board and a bowl and begins chopping the fruit into it. Once she finishes, she places the bowl back in the fridge and pulls out sausages which she begins cooking. She then takes out eggs and scrambles them in a bowl, shreds some cheese into it and then adds some spices.

When the coffee is ready, she opens a couple cupboards before finding the mugs and takes two out. She turns to me and says, “Milk, cream or sugar?”

“A little cream, thanks.”

She pours a bit of cream in mine and then some milk in hers and slides the mug to me before returning to the sausages and eggs.

Lana walks into the kitchen from the back door, looking shocked and says, “Miss. Shaw, you should have called. Please, let me.”

“That’s okay, Lana. I got it, actually. Also, please, call me Violet,” She says kindly. The bewildered expression on her face has me forcing down a chuckle.

“Please, allow me to assist you,” Lana says.

“Um, okay, I guess you could set the table? I don’t really know where everything is,” Violet tells her. Lana nods and then gets to work setting out the dishes. As she’s setting the table and Violet is at the stove, my father and Heather come into the kitchen and I see the surprise on both of their faces.

“What is going on here?” he asks.

Violet turns from the eggs to face them. “I’m cooking breakfast,” she says, coolly.

“Why?” Heather asks.

“Because I enjoy cooking,” she replies. They are both very confused by this statement and I look over to find Lana looking very nervous. I guess Violet had the same observation because she quickly adds, “Lana offered to take over and I declined.” She doesn't even know about my father and somehow she still figured out how to neutralize the situation. 

“I see,” My father says and then takes a seat at the table with Heather. Lana goes to the coffee maker and pours cups for him and my mother. I can see the relief on her face that she’s not in trouble for Violet cooking. It's a look I am unfortunately familiar with.