Break the Rule (Kings of Heart #3)

Chapter 1

Voices drag Charlie out of a deep sleep, his limbs heavy and his synapses firing slowly. While Charlie might be a light sleeper, roused by the faintest noises, that doesn’t make it easy for him. Being awake and functioning are two entirely different things.

Judging by the soft light peeking through the gap in his curtains, it’s not a time of day Charlie would normally be awake.

Memories of last night return as his brain finally settles into wake mode, but his new awareness only brings questions when he turns to look at the empty space in the bed beside him.

He definitely had sex last night. With someone.

Emma, or was it Amber? Names weren’t exactly at the forefront of his mind.

Whatever her name, she was definitely here when he fell asleep.

Stumbling out of bed, he grabs his discarded boxers from the night before and one of his shirts off the pile on his chair in the corner where he puts his ‘not quite clean enough to put in the closet but not dirty enough to wash’ shirts.

Semi-dressed, he shoves his feet into a pair of fuzzy, hot pink slippers and makes his way down the hallway, his confusion morphing into something decidedly less tepid when he gets close enough to hear the conversation.

“If you’re not going to join us, it’s probably better if you leave.

” Emma—yes, it was definitely Emma—puts her hand on Andrew's arm, ignoring the way he takes a step back. As if sensing Andrew’s unease, his elderly dog Birdie ambles out from beneath the dining table, quiet as ever, placing herself at Andrew’s side as if she can protect him.

“Unless you changed your mind? I’ll make it fun for you if you do. ”

“I have absolutely not changed my mind,” Andrew affirms, taking another step backwards. He bends down to skim his fingers over the top of Birdie’s head, though whether to soothe her or himself is unclear.

Despite it being a stupidly early hour, Charlie’s twin brother is already dressed in a pair of neatly ironed khakis and a seafoam green polo shirt.

Judging by the waves in his hair, it’s been freshly washed, though slightly untamed now that he’s finally taken to not wearing gel in it.

He looks put together and perfect, as always.

He also looks uncomfortable, and Charlie’s hackles rise as he steps into the kitchen.

“He doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, sweetheart.”

“Charlie, you’re awake.” Emma smiles, and it’s impossible to deny how pretty she is. That beauty becomes an ugly stain the second she speaks again. “I was just telling your brother here how it would be better if he left. No one wants a third wheel.”

There is nothing Charlie hates more than people treating Andrew like he’s an inconvenience.

Especially in Charlie's home, a place that has always, and will always, be a second home for his brother. Sometimes Charlie wishes Andrew still lived with him, but he understands why he moved out when he did, his twin’s need for quiet and order at constant odds with Charlie’s chaotic lifestyle and home.

Thankfully, despite living in his own place, Andrew still spends most of his time when he’s not at work at Charlie’s house, and Charlie isn’t going to let anyone change that.

“Andrew is never a third wheel.” Charlie moves across the room to place himself between Emma and Andrew since it’s clear Andrew is too polite to get out of this situation.

Andrew is a goddamn people-pleasing asshole, and it makes Charlie want to rip his hair out sometimes.

Thirty-two years on this planet, and Andrew still can’t tell people to stick it where the sun don’t shine, or even use a more polite version since Andrew has better manners than Charlie.

“I offered to let him join us, but he said no.” She pouts in a way that he suspects is meant to make him feel bad but only makes him frown, imagining how uncomfortable that must’ve made Andrew.

This is why he doesn’t usually let his one-night stands sleep over.

This is not the first time someone has decided that he and Andrew are some kind of joint package.

While they are admittedly slightly codependent and do everything together, that does not include sex, and not only because Andrew is ace, but because the idea of sex with his brother around makes him gag.

In hindsight, Charlie should’ve called her a ride when they finished, but they’d been at it until the early morning. It had seemed rude to kick her out. He wishes he had now. Rude Charlie trumps uncomfortable Andrew, always.

“I don’t want to fuck my brother,” Charlie adds, needing the boundary to be clear.

“I didn’t say you had to, silly. I was going to let you both take turns with me.” Emma smiles. “But Andrew is no fun, he said no.”

Like a fire doused in water, every ounce of attraction he had toward Emma goes poof. The most unattractive thing in the world is someone putting down someone he loves, particularly Andrew.

“Emma, last night was fun, but you’re going to need to leave.”

Emma’s expression is unreadable. “But—”

“I’ll get you an Uber if you need a ride,” Charlie offers, leaving absolutely no room for discussion. Anyone who makes Andrew uncomfortable isn’t welcome in his home or his bed.

“I can get my own ride,” she shrugs. “I had a good time last night. If you ever want a repeat, you know where to find me.”

Nothing in the world could make Charlie bring her back to his home again after this morning, but Andrew has drilled enough social niceties into his head that he doesn’t say that, though his feelings are likely clear in the way he hurries to help her get her stuff so she will leave.

It’s not until she’s gone, the front door locked and the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen that Charlie relaxes.

“Sorry about that,” Charlie says, leaning his hip against the kitchen island and watching Andrew turn all the mugs on his mug shelf until the handles all face the same direction.

Charlie couldn’t give a flying fuck which way his cups face, and sometimes when his brain is deprived of dopamine he messes them up so Andrew will argue with him.

This morning is not one of those mornings, and Charlie treads carefully.

“She was wrong, you know. You’re not boring.”

“I am and that’s fine.”

“You’re not,” Charlie grits out, wishing he could go back to the night before and change things so he came home alone. He hates that someone made Andrew feel bad, hates it more because he’s the one who brought that someone into his home.

“You must’ve had fun last night,” Andrew says, filling Birdie’s water dish and food bowl before moving on to straightening the dish towels that hang from Charlie’s oven handle.

“I always have fun,” Charlie reminds him, moving around Andrew to get two mugs down from the cupboard since he can smell the pot brewing.

One of his cats streaks by in a blur of black fur as he starts making their coffee, extra milk for Andrew and double sugar in his own mug. “Would’ve been more fun if you’d come.”

“I had a headache,” Andrew says.

“You could come tonight. The show is all weekend. There’s free food.”

“For someone with a comfortable middle class income, you sure love free stuff.”

“Any chance I have to consume without contributing to capitalism makes me happy. Besides, canapés taste better when they’re free. I don't make the rules. For example, caviar tastes like shit, but free caviar is a fucking delight.”

“If someone paid for it at all, it’s still capitalism,” Andrew points out, slowly moving into Charlie’s personal space.

His shoulder presses against Charlie’s and something in Charlie relaxes.

Andrew might be the oldest, but Charlie has always felt an overwhelming need to protect him.

The only brother he doesn’t feel this with is his younger brother Jason, and that’s only because Jason has incredible boundaries and always had Theo, his best friend, at his side.

Andrew and his youngest brother Alec, for all their bravado and strength, are the most likely to be lonely—or get hurt.

Charlie would rather die than see anyone he loves get hurt.

Especially Andrew. Growing up, people joked about their twin bond, but as they’ve grown into adulthood Charlie knows there’s nothing funny about it.

Andrew is quite literally his other half.

It’s a large reason—the main reason, if he’s being honest, and he always is—that he sticks to casual sex.

Most people aren’t comfortable sharing Charlie, and he is never going to make room for someone new in his life by pushing Andrew out.

“You’ve been stressed lately, are you not liking the new job?”

“I’ve been there for a few months. I'm not sure it still counts as new.”

“That is an evasive answer.”

Andrew hums, staring at the mug of coffee Charlie hands him. “You gave me the whore mug again.”

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t,” Charlie objects, staring into his own mug full of coffee.

This set of mugs is one of his favorite things in the kitchen, which is maybe not saying much since he doesn’t use his kitchen unless it’s to reheat leftovers.

Still, they’re fucking awesome mugs he bought at a Maker’s Market.

Being hand thrown means each one is technically slightly different, but the shape and glazing is so similar that Charlie honestly can’t tell them apart.

The only difference in the set is that on the bottom inside of each mug is a stamped phrase ranging from coffee slut to don’t be a fuckface and Charlie’s personal favorite shut your whore mouth.

“Yes, you did,” Andrew insists.

“I’m too tired to argue,” Charlie groans, setting his mug on the counter and dropping his face into his hands.

“Maybe if you slept instead of staying up all night entertaining company, you wouldn’t be so tired. You’re in your thirties now, you know.”

“You’re the same age as me, and you don’t get enough sleep either. Besides,” Charlie smirks, “Emma did the entertaining.”

Andrew sighs. “I did not need to know that.”

“I didn’t say anything about sex,” Charlie points out. “Speaking of sex though, there was this guy last night—”

“Wow, two in one night that’s a record for you.”

“I didn’t fuck two people, only one. Although I’m flattered you think I’m capable. Thank you, Annie.”

“Fucker,” Andrew laughs.

“Seriously though, Annie. This guy was sex on legs. I mean holy shit, he was fucking gorgeous. Easily one of the top three most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in my life.

He had these full, pink lips, and his eye makeup was all smudged but on purpose so the eyeliner and glitter brought out his eyes.

I’ve never seen anyone with such bright blue eyes.

I could fucking paint those eyes. And his face, my god—literally the face of a fucking angel.

” Charlie pauses, watching Andrew’s unmasked expressions rapidly shift. “What?”

“I’m trying to figure out how you brought home someone else when you’re talking about this guy like that.”

“Oh that,” Charlie scoffs, reaching for his coffee. “I didn’t actually ask him out or anything. He brushed me off since he was busy and I don’t know…I couldn’t think of anything to say.”

“Wow.”

“What do you mean wow?”

“I mean wow,” Andrew repeats.

“I’m going to see him again tonight, assuming he’s working again. He was one of the waiters and—now what?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did,” Charlie accuses.

“Would you like me to stare at the wall while you finish talking so you don’t have to look at me?”

“Smart ass,” Charlie grumbles, lightly smacking the back of Andrew’s head. “Anyways, I’m—what?”

Andrew holds his hands up in surrender. “I still didn’t say anything.”

“You might as well have. I can’t talk with that nosey fucking face of yours. Spit it out.”

“I’m just curious about this mystery man. You’ve never taken more than one night to shoot your shot. You just do it and then move on to someone else if they’re not interested. Does Charlie King have a crush?”

“Fuck no,” Charlie balks. It’s been over a decade since Charlie had a crush on anyone, and after how abysmally his last relationship ended when they told him to pick between them and Andrew, he won’t have another one.

Casual sex is perfect. Sexually gratifying and emotionally freeing.

“Besides I did move on, as evidenced by the woman here this morning. Which I’m sorry about by the way. ”

“It’s your house,” Andrew says, holding his mug too tightly. “You don’t need to apologize to me for having someone here.”

“Annie.”

“So are you gonna ask out that guy tonight?” Andrew asks.

“Might as well,” Charlie shrugs, letting the not at all subtle attempt to change the subject slide. “I’ve got nothing to lose but my pride, and we know how little I care for that.”

Andrew hums while Charlie groans. “What does that mean?”

“It means nothing,” Andrew tries, slowly drinking his coffee.

Though he strongly suspects it does in fact have a deeper meaning, Charlie lets it go, content when they fall into a companionable silence.

For all he and Andrew bicker, there’s no one in the world who knows him better, and Andrew always knows when Charlie needs a rare bit of quiet.

He doesn’t push or ask more questions, quietly drinking his coffee.

It’s only when he’s finished that he nudges Charlie.

“I told you,” Andrew announces, tipping his empty mug in Charlie’s direction to show off the bottom. Sure enough there at the bottom of the cup is the word whore surrounded by droplets of coffee.

“Neurospicy bastard,” Charlie laughs, somehow still surprised by Andrew’s ability to notice even the miniscule difference.

“I love being right,” Andrew grins, a lilt to his voice that was noticeably missing when he arrived.

He pushes his stool away from the kitchen island and stands.

“I’m going to do the grocery shopping. I’d invite you, but you’d add too many things that aren’t on the list. Just stay here, be a good boy and don’t get into trouble. ”

“But trouble is so much fun, Annie.”

“Fucker,” Andrew snorts. “I’ll be back later, alright?”

“Why are you coming back at six?”

“To bring groceries so you don’t starve, and so that we have time to get ready for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“I’m coming to your gallery showing.” Andrew’s smile widens. “I’ve got to see this mystery man for myself.”