Bound By His Rules

Nine

( Ava's POV )

The house smelled like coffee and rain.

Ava blinked into the early light, the pale gray spilling through the thin curtains, soft and cold against her skin. She lay on her back staring at the ceiling, the echo of last night still tangled up in her chest.

She’d barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Brian standing in the kitchen, jaw tight, eyes burning with a mix of anger and something heavier. Something that had settled between them like a secret neither of them was supposed to have.

The floor creaked in the hallway. A door shut softly. Lily’s laugh, bright, easy, floated down the hall a second later, and Ava jolted upright. For a moment she’d almost forgotten there was a world outside of that midnight confrontation.

She ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at the salt-tangled mess. The clothes she’d slept in still smelled faintly of the ocean and rain. If Lily noticed, she’d ask questions Ava wasn’t ready to answer.

By the time she padded out to the kitchen, Brian was already there.

He was leaning against the counter in a worn gray T-shirt, mug in his hand, hair still damp from the shower. He didn’t look at her right away, but she felt it, the shift in the air when he realized she was there.

“Morning,” she managed, voice softer than she intended.

His eyes lifted to hers, unreadable. “Morning.”

Just that. No edge. No softness either.

Lily sat cross-legged at the kitchen island, scrolling through her phone while eating cereal like the world wasn’t wrapped in tension. She grinned when she saw Ava. “You look like death. Rough night?”

Ava forced a laugh. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

Brian’s gaze flicked up for a second at that, sharp enough that her stomach twisted.

Lily didn’t notice. She never did when she was in her own little world. “We should do something today. The beach was fun but I swear if I get another sunburn, I’ll melt. Maybe we can just stay in, do a movie marathon.”

“Sounds good,” Ava said quickly, grateful for the distraction.

Brian rinsed his mug in the sink, the sound of running water filling the space. “I’ve got some things to take care of this morning,” he said, his voice steady. Too steady. “But I’ll be around later.”

Lily didn’t look up. “Okay, Dad.”

Ava’s chest tightened. The word Dad hit differently this morning, like a reminder of the line that existed between him and her, a line she had no business getting close to.

Brian turned off the tap and finally looked at her again. Just a second. But in that second, Ava saw everything they weren’t saying.

We’re not talking about last night.

We’re not supposed to.

We can’t.

Her fingers tightened on the edge of the counter.

Lily hopped off the stool, heading toward the stairs. “I’m gonna get dressed. Movie marathon waits for no one.”

When the sound of her footsteps faded upstairs, the kitchen fell into that same dangerous quiet from the night before.

Ava glanced at Brian. He hadn’t moved. His hand gripped the edge of the counter like he was holding himself still.

“About last night,” she started.

“Ava,” he warned softly, not looking at her.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I just… I don’t want things to be weird.”

He let out a quiet laugh, rough and humorless. “Too late.”

The honesty of it made her stomach flip.

He set the mug down with a soft thud. “You scared the hell out of me last night. That doesn’t just… disappear with the sunrise.”

“I know.” Her voice was small. “I didn’t mean to.”

He finally looked at her then, and it wasn’t the hard stare from the night before. It was something worse, something raw. “I know you didn’t.”

For a second, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. No Lily. No house. Just the weight of everything hanging in the air.

“You can’t do that again,” he said quietly. “Not here. Not while you’re under my roof.”

“I won’t,” she said, though part of her hated how much it sounded like a promise.

Brian’s jaw tightened. “Good.”

He turned to leave, but she spoke again before she could stop herself. “Brian.”

He paused in the doorway.

She didn’t even know what she was going to say until the words stumbled out. “Why did it matter so much?”

His shoulders stiffened. He didn’t turn around. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then, quietly, “Because I don’t lose people.”

The words sliced through her like clean glass. She didn’t know the whole story, but she didn’t need to. It was all right there, in the way he said it, in the way he didn’t look back at her.

She swallowed hard. “I’m not yours to lose,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

But he heard. His hand flexed on the doorframe.

“No,” he said, voice low. “You’re not.”

Then he walked out, leaving the kitchen cold and quiet.

By noon, Lily had built a mountain of blankets and pillows in the living room. She was like sunlight, warm, unbothered, pulling everyone else into her orbit. Ava let herself get dragged into the nest of cushions and half-burned candles, trying to ignore the way her stomach tightened whenever she heard Brian moving somewhere in the house.

They watched two movies back-to-back, Lily laughing too loud at all the wrong parts. Ava laughed with her, but it felt fragile, like a glass she couldn’t stop from cracking.

When Brian passed through the living room, Lily barely looked up. Ava did. She always did.

He didn’t say much, just a quiet, “You two good in here?”

Lily grinned and threw a pillow at him. “We’re great.”

Ava forced a nod. “Yeah. All good.”

His gaze lingered a heartbeat too long before he moved on.

Late afternoon light draped across the living room when Lily finally fell asleep on the couch, tangled in a blanket. Ava sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, the movie credits rolling silently across the screen.

She didn’t hear him come in. She just felt it, the subtle shift in the air that only seemed to happen when he was near.

Brian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her.

“You didn’t sleep,” he said quietly.

She shook her head. “You didn’t either.”

He didn’t deny it.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Lily’s soft breathing filled the background, the only sound in a room that felt too still.

“This isn’t easy,” he finally said.

“I didn’t ask for easy,” she whispered.

His eyes darkened at that.

Ava rose slowly, careful not to wake Lily. She crossed the room until she was standing a few feet away from him. Not too close. Just close enough to feel the current between them.

“I don’t know what this is,” she said softly. “But I know last night changed something. Pretending it didn’t… won’t work.”

Brian’s jaw clenched. “Ava..”

“I’m not stupid. I know who I am in this house. I know you’re Lily’s dad.” Her chest ached around the words. “But don’t look at me like that and expect me not to feel anything.”

His breath came out rough. He looked at her then like she was a line he couldn’t cross but couldn’t stop staring at either.

“We can’t,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered.

Silence wrapped around them again, heavy and sharp. It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t a promise. It was a fracture, something quiet and dangerous and real.

Then he stepped back, putting that line firmly between them again. “Get some rest.”

Ava nodded. “Yeah.”

But as she turned away, she felt it, the weight of his gaze still on her.

And she knew it.

This wasn’t going away.