29. WADE
WADE
Rules Were Made to Be Broken
T he lump in my throat burned as I held the man in my arms, unable to fathom a world where a mother would reject her son so blatantly. The pain in Cal’s story hit me harder than I expected. I didn’t need to ask twenty questions as to why—like something was wrong with him, because I knew there was nothing wrong with Cal. Nothing that should have ever caused a mother to discard her child like that. I looked up to see Shane holding Eli close, his face tight with understanding, a silent testament to his own struggles. I could almost see the connection between their pain. The thought of how his own family had handled his news earlier crossed my mind.
Tyler was itching to hold Cal, to offer him some kind of comfort, but Hunter held him back, his gaze flickering to me knowingly. It wasn’t that Tyler was being stopped—it was just that sometimes, even the closest friendships needed a little time to breathe.
As Cal’s cries slowly subsided to the occasional sniffle, his friends dared to approach. Tyler held one hand, Shane the other, both of them surrounded by their significant others standing just behind, like a silent army of support. The warmth they offered was enough to let Cal take a shaky breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in his chest didn’t seem quite as impossible to bear.
“Wade is right,” Shane said softly, his voice steady, yet filled with the weight of understanding. “Nothing you’ve done gives her reason to be so cruel. I know there’s not much we can say to take this hurt away, but I hope you know—we’re proud of you. We’re here for you.”
Tyler nodded, his eyes full of the same sincerity. “Yeah, man. We’ve got you.”
Cal’s eyes shifted, still heavy with sadness but slightly brighter, like the faintest glimmer of light trying to break through a curtain.
“I’ll make us some dinner,” Shane offered, always the caretaker. “And we can have a movie night? Any movie you want.”
Tyler chimed in quickly, yelling over his shoulder as he followed Shane into the kitchen, “Just anything but The Devil Wears Prada!”
Both Eli and Cal groaned in unison.
“But Meryl Streep is a goddess!” Cal protested, a faint smile pulling at his lips.
I couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling that small shift in the air. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Cal’s light returned, even if just a flicker, and for a moment, I dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of his story. It was the beginning of something better.
That night, a sense of ease settled over me, one I hadn’t felt in weeks. Holding Cal in my arms felt natural, even if I wished it had come under better pretenses. I watched him pick at his food, barely eating, though he managed to laugh at the funny parts of Legally Blonde. The nostalgia hit hard—I hadn’t watched it since I was home with my sisters. Apparently, Shane hadn’t either, grumbling about it being a house favorite with his sisters.
Eli, meanwhile, was fully into it, joining Cal in every “ bend and snap ” with the kind of enthusiasm that earned me the sight of that smile I was determined to recreate. Tyler and Hunter retreated to watching hockey on a tablet, though they never let more than a minute pass without throwing worried glances his way, like two overly protective parents.
As the credits rolled, Cal’s friends gave his shoulder a squeeze on their way to bed, each of them leaving him with a look that said more than words ever could. And then it was just us.
The quiet settled heavy between us, and I could feel the weight of everything he wasn’t saying.
“Do you want me to leave or stay, Pretty Boy?” I asked, my voice low.
He hesitated, his eyes flickering with something raw, something uncertain.
“What are you doing here, Wade? Really?” His voice cracked slightly, but the softness in it hit me like a punch. Hearing him say my name twisted something in my gut, though I couldn’t help but miss the way he used to call me Jack—always with that warmth that made me want to be around him every second.
“I needed to see you.”
He shifted in my lap but didn’t move away. Instead, he straddled me, his hands clasped tightly in his lap like he was holding himself back.
“Why?”
I raised a hand to his jaw, my thumb brushing along the edge of his cheekbone. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn’t hesitate. I’d never been one to tiptoe around what I wanted, and right now, what I wanted was him.
“Because, Pretty Boy, you left me in bed without a goodbye. That’s not how this works.”
He huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes. “It was a one-night thing ‐ something that should be a mistake, it was against the rules… a weak moment–”
I leaned in closer, holding his gaze.
“ Should be a mistake, but we both know it wasn’t, we both know why we gave into what we were fighting and Cal, You’re not the one-night kind, Cal. Not to me.”
His eyes darted between mine, wide with disbelief, like he was trying to find some lie, some sweet but false words, but he wasn’t going to find it–he was only getting the truth from me.
“You’ve been in my head since the night you walked into my bar,” I said, my voice steady. “That sheer top in the middle of winter? You were ridiculous, and I couldn’t stop looking at you. Then you kept coming back, with that smart mouth and that sharp wit. Every time, you made it harder not to want you.”
“Almost impossible?” he whispered.
I nodded.
“I fought it. I did. But then I saw you with my family, and it hit me—I don’t want to do any of this without you. Not the holidays, not the bad days, not the good ones either. I want you at my bar, driving me nuts. I want you at my place, keeping things interesting. Hell, I want you everywhere.”
His tears welled up, and it tore through me.
“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Because I don’t think I could handle rejection from you— my Jack. Everyone I’ve loved has burned me. One more, and I don’t know if I can come back from it.”
That did it. Fury rose in my chest at the thought of anyone who’d made him feel like this, who’d left him with this kind of doubt.
“Tell me who they are,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “I’ll show them exactly what they threw away.”
He gave a small shrug, doubt shadowing his face.
“I can be a bit much sometimes.”
I pulled him closer, pressing my forehead to his.
“You’re not too much. You’re exactly right. They couldn’t handle you. That’s their loss. It’ll never be mine.”
He breathed in sharply, his shoulders trembling slightly as my words sank in.
“So, what does this mean, Jack Wade?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with hope.
I leaned in, close enough that his breath mixed with mine.
“It means,” I said, my voice steady, “you’re mine, if you’ll have me.”
His lips brushed against mine, tentative at first, and then he nodded. His words came out rough, barely a whisper.
“Yeah, I will. Just don’t screw me over, Wade. I couldn’t handle it.”
I cupped his face, holding him steady as I met his gaze.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me.”