Broken Rules Read online

  Sterling paid the taxi driver and climbed out, staring at the neat yard and little picket fence that surrounded it. A child’s bicycle was parked by the porch, a pair of skates nearby.

  As he stood there, unsure what to do, the front door blew open, and two girls tumbled out, shrieking and laughing. Sterling froze, but it was too late—they’d spotted him.

  The older one stepped forward. She was about thirteen, Sterling estimated. Maybe older, from the predatory way she was eyeing him.

  She can probably smell fear. Small movements.

  “Um. Is Amparo here?”

  The younger girl turned and dashed into the house, yelling at the top of her lungs. “Grandma! Visitor!”

  Sterling winced. The older girl was still looking at him.

  “I’m Sophia,” she said.

  “Hi,” Sterling said.

  “And you are?” she prompted.

  “Sterling?” Amparo’s voice was unchanged, but physically—Sterling’s heart ached. She had silvery gray hair, and her face was lined, crow’s-feet around the beautiful brown eyes he’d always loved so much.

  Sterling managed a smile even as she blurred in his vision. “Hi, ’Paro,” he managed. “Can I, um… come in?”

  Amparo hurried forward and opened the gate to pull him into a hug. Sterling clutched the back of her shirt and his knees nearly buckled as the tears overwhelmed him yet again.

  “My sweet boy,” Amparo said as he tried desperately to keep from breaking down in her arms. “Oh, precious mijo, what’s happened? Come on, inside with you.” She guided him up the walk and inside the house, dim and cool and spotless, where she sat him down on the sofa and clutched his hands.

  Sterling couldn’t speak for the tears that choked him. “I got you fired,” he finally blurted. “I’m so sorry, ’Paro.”

  “No,” Amparo said sharply, squeezing his hands. “No, querido, I got me fired. I should have known better than to do that. I’ll never forgive myself for putting you in that situation.”

  Sterling shook his head wordlessly.

  “I heard about your father,” Amparo continued. “I’m sorry. I know that had to be hard on you, no matter what he was like.”

  “He died because of me,” Sterling whispered. “I—he was stealing, and I threatened to expose him. He had a wreck and died. It was my fault—”

  “It’s not your fault,” Amparo said, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. “Sterling, mi amor, you did the right thing, and you’re punishing yourself for it. Your father’s choices were his own, and you had nothing to do with them. Now, let me look at you, cariño.” She sat back, and Sterling wiped his face as she inspected him.

  “How did you even recognize me?” Sterling asked. “It’s been, what—twelve years?”

  Amparo laughed. “I’d know you anywhere, esterlina. You’re taller, and sadder, but it’s still you.” She cupped his face, wiping away another tear. “Tell ’Paro what’s wrong.”

  The door opened and both girls burst inside, giggling.

  Amparo said something in rapid-fire Spanish and the older girl turned and disappeared into the kitchen, just off the room they were in. The younger girl stared at Sterling, twisting her fingers in the hem of her shirt.

  “Are these your granddaughters?” Sterling asked.

  “Sophia and Crystal,” Amparo said, clearly proud.

  “Beatriz’s daughters?”

  Amparo laughed. “Bless you, esterlina, Beatriz is your age! She’d have to have been pregnant at eleven to have had Sophia. No, these are my oldest boy’s little ones. I don’t suppose you ever met him.”

  Sterling shook his head as Sophia yelled something from the kitchen, and Amparo rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Sophia can’t find her head with both hands and a map.”

  She disappeared, and Sterling was alone with Crystal, who regarded him curiously.

  “How do you know my abuela?” she asked.

  “She was my nanny when I was a little boy,” Sterling said.

  Crystal’s eyes went wide. “You’re Sterling?”

  “You know about me?” Sterling said, startled.

  Crystal sat down on the couch next to him, folding her legs and gripping her ankles.

  “Um.” Sterling scooted away, but Crystal wasn’t fazed.

  “Abuela talks about you a lot, ’specially after what happened with your papa,” she said. “She says you were a very sweet little boy, but your parents were awful. Abuela would adopt you if you wanted her to. She loves you very much. She could be your new mama! That would make you my….” She trailed off, frowning.

  “Your uncle,” Sterling supplied, smiling in spite of himself. “I still have a mother, though. Besides, I’m grown up. I don’t need to be adopted.”

  “You need a better mother,” Crystal said firmly. She scooted nearer. “Sophia thinks you’re very handsome, but if you’re our uncle, she can’t date you.”

  Sterling couldn’t help his laugh. “There are several problems with me dating her anyway. One being that she’s very underage and that’s illegal. Another is that I’m—” He hesitated. “Um. Gay.”

  Crystal brightened. “You could date my uncle, then! He’s gay too!”

  “You’re very persistent, aren’t you?”

  “Abuela says it’s one of my best qualities. I’m gonna be a lawyer.”

  “Oh yeah, that’ll help,” Sterling agreed.

  “My uncle’s very handsome,” Crystal said. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through until she found a picture. “His name is Levi. Look!”

  Sterling found himself inspecting a picture of a tall man standing next to a red horse. “Is your uncle the guy or the horse?”

  Crystal dissolved into helpless giggles, folding over, and Sterling’s lips twitched unwillingly as she laughed.

  Amparo appeared in the doorway, smiling fondly at Crystal. “Go help Sophia in the kitchen, mija,” she said. “Sterling and I need to talk.”

  Crystal scrambled off the couch and flung her arms around Sterling, who grunted in surprise. She smelled like lavender and bubblegum, her hair soft where it brushed his cheek, and Sterling patted her tentatively on the back.

  Amparo sat down in her place as Crystal dashed into the kitchen. “Sorry about that. I know she can be overwhelming.”

  “She’s cute,” Sterling said, startled to realize it was true.

  Amparo patted his knee. “Now. Tell me what’s wrong. Why did you show up on my doorstep after all these years?”

  “I need—” Sterling swallowed. “I needed to talk to someone. I need… advice. I met… there’s this guy, and—”

  Amparo’s eyes were keen. “Did you fall in love, mijo?”

  “No!” Sterling protested and then froze. “Wait… how did you—you know I’m gay?” He stifled a half-hysterical laugh. “Of course you do.”

  Amparo smiled at him. “So… you’re in love.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe. I don’t know. I can’t—I can’t love him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… he deserves better,” Sterling whispered.

  “Nonsense,” Amparo said flatly. “Whoever he is, he’s clearly amazing, if you’ve fallen for him. You always had good taste. Tell me about him.”

  “His name is Sanyam,” Sterling said. His throat was tight, his eyes burning.

  “How did you meet?”

  “He spilled his coffee on me,” Sterling said. “I was—I was a dick, but he….”

  Amparo’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “You and your sharp tongue. But he didn’t care?”

  “He liked me anyway,” Sterling whispered. “I thought it was—physical. You know? I thought he just—but he said he loved me. He can’t. He can’t, ’Paro.”

  “Why not?” Amparo repeated, eyes steady on Sterling’s face. “Tell me why he couldn’t love the sweetest boy I ever took care of.”

  Sterling hunched his shoulders. “I’m not that l
ittle boy anymore. I’m…. No one likes me, ’Paro. I’m a dick to everyone. I’m selfish and grumpy and allergic to human emotions. Every time San touches me, I’m rude to him unless we’re in bed. I’m—I’m not good enough for him.”

  Amparo’s eyes were sad. “The worst part is you clearly believe that.”

  “Because it’s true,” Sterling said.

  “So don’t be like that anymore,” Amparo said.

  “It’s not that easy,” Sterling protested.

  “I never said it was going to be easy,” Amparo said. “But you’re strong and smart, and you can do anything you put your mind to. So if you decide you want to be better, a better person, someone worthy of this Sanyam’s love, then what’s stopping you?”

  Sterling rubbed his face. “What if—”

  “What if what?” Amparo said. She took his hand. “If you love him—and it’s obvious you do, judging by the state you were in when you showed up—then you know what you have to do.” She tilted her head. “Do you like being a jerk, cariño? Do you like yourself this way?”

  Sterling shook his head. “I—no. But I don’t know how to change.”

  “It’s not a switch you flip,” Amparo said. “It’s a conscious decision, made a hundred, a thousand times a day. It’ll get easier over time, but there’s always a choice there. The first step is deciding to be better. And then you keep doing that, over and over again, until it comes more easily.”

  “It sounds exhausting.”

  Amparo laughed. “All good things take work. What’s the point if it’s effortless?” She leaned forward. “Let me make this clear. You don’t change for him, do you understand? You change because you want to be better. Never change to be someone else’s ideal, esterlina. Only do it for yourself.”

  Sterling nodded. “I do want to change,” he whispered. “I just… I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

  Amparo laughed out loud. “You? Not strong enough? Oh, my darling boy, you can be so dumb.” She squeezed his hand again. “You survived your parents, and you did it with your sense of humor and your loving spirit intact. Maybe it’s got a few cracks in it, but it’s still there. I can see it.” She stood up and pulled him to his feet. “Come, Sophia’s making tea. You’ll have some with me, and we’ll talk about the old days. How are Cricket and Dorian? Tell me everything.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  IT HAD been a week, and Sanyam was operating on autopilot. All he could see every time he closed his eyes was Fox’s anguished face, grief and hurt and fury in equal mixture, right before he walked out the door.

  He’d fucked up, and he had no idea how to make it right. There was no way Fox would answer his calls, and it wasn’t like Sanyam knew what to say to fix things anyway.

  So he went to work, dealing with clients remotely but politely, and came home, where he sat on the couch and stared at the wall.

  He missed Fox with a sharpness that sliced to his soul. His apartment seemed empty in a way it never had before, the rooms echoing with his footsteps. Sanyam kept expecting Fox to come running around the corner, looking for his socks or complaining that Sanyam had moved his stuff again.

  But if he was dealing badly, Polly was worse. She was clingy to the point of obnoxious, meowing at Sanyam constantly as if he could produce her cuddle buddy from his pocket for her, and under his feet every time he got up to go anywhere, clearly terrified he’d leave her too.

  Ava called Sanyam into her office three days after Fox left. Folding her hands, she fixed him with a sharp look.

  “I hear Fox quit. What happened?”

  “He moved out,” Sanyam said.

  “You guys break up?”

  “We were never officially together,” Sanyam protested feebly.

  “Sure,” Ava said. “Pull the other one. It’s got bells on. He picked up his last check today, before you got here, and said he won’t be back. Pity—he was actually doing a good job.”

  Sanyam said nothing, and Ava sighed.

  “Take a week off.”

  “I’m fine,” Sanyam said.

  “My left asscheek you’re fine,” Ava snapped. “You’re reeling, bucko, and you can’t do your job properly when you’re this fucked up. Go home and lick your wounds and deal with this, and then come back ready to work.”

  So Sanyam found himself at home, with absolutely nothing to occupy his time except for a miserable cat that refused to even let him go to the bathroom alone.

  Finally, he gave up. Sick of staring at his empty rooms, he dragged on his coat and bolted out the door.

  He had no clear idea where he was going, just that he needed to get out, get fresh air, and away from all the memories of Fox.

  The bus started rolling, and Sanyam gazed sightlessly out the window, resting his forehead against the glass.

  After about an hour of riding aimlessly, a sign for the aquarium caught his eye, and he straightened. Hadn’t Cricket mentioned she and Dorian worked there now? Maybe they’d have word of Fox’s well-being.

  He paid for his ticket and went inside, only half an eye on his surroundings as he looked for Cricket. He went through the entire place and finally gave up and asked a passing employee.

  “Oh, they’re both off today,” the girl said cheerfully. “They’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Sanyam sagged in disappointment and turned for the exit. On his way, he passed the stingrays, and a man leaning over the tank caught his eye. Sanyam looked closer. Why did he look so familiar? He was small-framed, slender, with black hair, dark eyes, and a bold nose—Sanyam’s mouth fell open.

  “Micah?”

  Micah—it was him—spun and nearly overbalanced, the man with him catching his arm before he toppled into the tank.

  “Sanyam? What the hell are you doing in Vancouver?”

  “I could ask you the same thing!” Sanyam said, looking him over. “You look so good! How have you been?”

  Micah’s smile widened. That was why Sanyam hadn’t recognized him at first—a smile seemed perpetually pasted on his face, setting his black eyes dancing. He was a far cry from the sad, haunted man who had tried to scene with him a year before.

  “I’ve been great,” he said, reaching out and catching the wrist of the man beside him and drawing him forward. “This is my fiancé, Devon Mallory. Devon, do you remember I told you how I tried to sub in Mumbai when we were apart?”

  Devon was a tall man with brown hair and bright blue eyes, and he held out one big hand to Sanyam. “Of course.”

  “This is—um… the guy,” Micah said.

  Sanyam shook Devon’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, and I see congratulations are in order.”

  Micah ducked his head, somehow smiling even more, and Devon wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close.

  “What are you doing in Vancouver, though?” Sanyam asked. “I thought you lived in Toronto.”

  “Dev’s mom lives here,” Micah explained. “We came out so I could meet her.”

  “And then of course nothing would do but that we go see the rays,” Devon added, grinning. “So here we are.”

  “What are you doing here?” Micah asked.

  “I live here now,” Sanyam said. “Kali put me in touch with the owner of a club—the Honeytrap—and I moved here about five months ago.”

  His heart ached, looking at Micah and Devon in front of him, so happy and secure in their relationship. He missed Fox even more, with a sharp, fierce pang. He needed to find him, apologize again, make Fox realize that no matter what had happened, they could work through it if Fox was just willing to try.

  No. Sanyam knew even as he had the thought that that was exactly what Fox had been talking about.

  “You can’t stand not being in control of every little detail of my life, can you?”

  He couldn’t make this decision for Fox. This had to be something he came to willingly, on his own, or not at all.

  “Sanyam?” Micah sounded worried.

  Sanyam jerked, recalled to himsel
f. “I’m so sorry. I got lost in my head for a moment. What were you saying?”

  “Nothing much,” Micah said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Sanyam said. He held out his arms hesitantly, unsure if Micah would want to—but Micah stepped forward and hugged him hard.

  “Do you need to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

  Sanyam smiled down at him. “Thank you, but there’s nothing to be said or done, except to hope—that things turn around.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll do,” Micah said.

  Devon held out his hand, and Sanyam shook it again.

  “Take care of yourself,” Devon said.

  Sanyam watched them walk away and finally turned to go. Polly was probably climbing the walls with both her people gone—the least he could do was be there for her and comfort her as best he could.

  When he got back to his apartment, Fox was sitting on the top step, knees drawn to his chest and arms wrapped around them as he waited.

  Chapter Thirty

  STERLING SCRAMBLED to his feet, his heart in his throat. Sanyam stared up at him, his mouth hanging open, keys half out of his pocket and his foot on the bottom step.

  “I—” All Sterling’s carefully practiced words fled, everything he’d rehearsed in front of the mirror, the apology he’d honed until it was perfect in its elegant simplicity—gone, scattered on the wind by the look in Sanyam’s eyes.

  “Please,” Fox managed, feeling his face crumple. “Please forgive me, San.” He began to weep, and Sanyam bounded up the steps to grab him, pulling him into a hard embrace.

  “I’m so sorry,” Fox sobbed, clinging to Sanyam’s shirt. “I’ve been such a dick, but I want to do better—I want to be better, please, San—”

  Sanyam’s arms were tight around him, and Fox held on desperately as Sanyam crooned to him, until the worst of the tears had passed and Fox was limp and drained. He sagged against Sanyam’s chest, face pressed to his wet shirt.