The Rule Breaker (Fire and Ice #3)

CHAPTER ONE

SAM

MARCH

FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE

Sometimes, I wonder when the tide first started to change for me. I lived a charmed life up until college. Anything that I really wanted—hockey, that starting position on a new team, the unattainable girl—was always mine for the taking with little to no effort. If I really desired something, I usually managed to get it, and that’s not my ego talking. It’s the simple truth.

I’m the only son of Jack and Alma Anderson, a middle-class family in the Midwest, and I had a stable upbringing. My mom and dad are still married and eat dinner together every night. Dad makes a decent living as an electrician, and my mom is an elementary school teacher. Life was predictable and boring at times, but in a reliable, comforting way. Everything came easily for me, and I was always the golden child. We never had a lot of money, but what we did have was funneled into hockey. I guess over time, I took it all for granted, but only because I never knew any different. I thought things were supposed to work out the way I wanted them to because they always had in the past.

I’m not sure if there was an exact moment when things suddenly shifted, like a riptide pulling me beneath the wave instantaneously. Or if it happened gradually, like I was slowly sinking beneath the surface until the water stole all my oxygen. Either way, I didn’t realize it was happening until I was too far gone to stop it. But I do know one thing for sure … the beginning revolved around Oakley Burnham.

Oakley was my first and only real girlfriend, though not many people believe that because I’ve dated lots of women and hooked up with even more over the years. But I’d never had a serious, long-term commitment until Oak. I never even considered one before her. And I haven’t had one since.

I still remember the first time I kissed her on the back porch of my teammate Mike’s house in the fall semester of our senior year. She was beautiful with her dark hair cascading down her shoulders and those innocent blue-green eyes. She looked at me like I’d not only hung the moon, but I’d created it as well. Her expression shared secrets with me. It whispered that she loved me long before I even noticed her. I grew addicted to that look. And after that night … I couldn’t let her go. She wasn’t the kind of girl that you had one encounter with and left. Oakley was the type of woman who lingered long after she was gone. So, I locked her down and made her mine. We spent nearly a year together before I began to doubt what we had.

Then, I decided on a whim to demolish everything we’d built together. During our first semester of college, I convinced myself that Oakley was weighing me down. That the regular sex was becoming monotonous, and the nights out together were a tightening noose around my neck rather than something to treasure. My eye started to wonder, looking at all the options I had, all the other women, rather than recognizing what was right in front of my face. I mean, why would I tie myself down to one girl when there were so many other coeds out there literally clamoring for a night with me? No expectations, no restrictions. Variety. And I was just young and dumb and arrogant enough to want it. I still am.

So, I smashed us into pieces in an alleyway outside of a bar without looking back. And I left her alone to pick up the shards. I’d forgotten how special she was and how she made me feel valued every time she glanced in my direction. I wiped my memory of the way she’d loved and how she’d left me feeling like a better man every time she walked toward me. And I started to willingly drown in booze and other girls.

Until one day, not too long ago, I was walking across campus, and I saw Oakley.

In one glance, it all came rushing back. I suddenly remembered how good she’d felt in my arms. The way my chest would warm when she gazed up at me with love in her eyes. Feeling wanted every time she spoke my name. I missed her. I missed us . And I wanted everything I had destroyed back.

“You planning on sharing that?” Ben asks when I walk into the kitchen with a case of beer in my hands.

Ben Sims, Charlie McMann, and Will Richter live at this house, all teammates of mine on Sinclair University’s hockey team. We’re getting together tonight to watch a professional hockey game. A few of the other guys and several girls are already gathered in the living room.

“You planning on putting out for it?” I joke.

I rest the Amstel Light on the counter and swing open the refrigerator, unloading the bottles onto the shelf to chill.

Ben brings a hand up to his chin, pretending to ponder my offer. “That’s bottled imported beer … I’ve done worse for keg beer.”

“Sims, what is wrong with you?” I quip while Charlie laughs at him from across the room.

He’s removing a sub and some chips from a bag with the logo of a local sandwich shop on the outside.

Ben shrugs unapologetically. “What can I say, man? I have no shame.”

“That’s the rumor,” I readily agree.

Ben walks over to Charlie to snag his food before the giant goalie claims it all.

I crack open a beer and take a swig. My heart skips a beat when I see Oakley walk into the room, her long hair swaying down her back in waves. I texted her earlier tonight to see if she was coming, but she never answered. I’ve messaged her a few times in the past week, but each time, all I get are short responses, if she bothers to answer at all. I get it. I became the enemy when I broke her heart in that dark alleyway a few months ago. But I’m ready to make it up to her, to make her see what I’ve realized recently. That we belong together. And I never back down from a challenge.

She glances at her phone, and I frown, wondering if she’s talking to another guy. And if that guy is Chase.

I know he’s making his move. I saw it at the club the night we all went to celebrate her birthday. Roommate or not, Chase declared war when he pulled my girl down on his lap to blow out her birthday candles. That pissed me off. The image of them together is still seared on my brain. It’s the first time I saw the true intent of my so-called friend and teammate. Now, we can add rival to that list of descriptors.

Because Oakley is my girl. She was mine first even though we’ve been broken up for a while now. Just because we hit a bump in the road doesn’t mean that we’re completely done. And it definitely doesn’t mean that Chase has a shot with her. I’m prepared to make her see what I realized that day on campus. To make her remember what we were and the potential of what we could be again.

“There she is!” I say, aiming my signature smirk at Oakley as she walks farther into the kitchen. The one that has panties dropping at every party.

Oakley shoves her phone into her back pocket and glances up. Electricity buzzes in the air when our gazes connect. Those vibrant eyes dim a bit right before she looks away.

I deserve that.

There are walls between us that weren’t there before. She erected each protective layer carefully after I walked away and has been fortifying them ever since. But I’m nothing if not determined. And I’m prepared to bulldoze my way back into her life if I must. She’ll see that it took me a little longer to recognize what she had seen in us from the start. I’m ready now.

“Here we are,” she deadpans, her tone as flat as her expression. I’m undeterred. “What’s on tap for the night?”

Oakley aims the question at Sims and McMann while attempting to ice me out. I kind of like the fact that she’s making me work for it. It makes me respect her more. And I’m afraid if she made it too easy for me, I’d lose interest in us all over again.

I open the refrigerator and offer Oakley and Madison, her best friend, an Amstel Light.

“A cold beer sounds perfect,” Oakley admits while looking over at Mads.

Mads reaches out, and I hand her a bottle. She winks at me in thanks as she twists the cap off. It surprises me a little—Madison’s warm reception. There’s been a cold war brewing between us ever since I broke her BFF’s heart. She took it personally—a testament to their close bond. The last time we all ended up at the same bar, I overheard her nicknaming me Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. I would never admit it to her, but that one stung. And it stuck. It’s been swimming around inside my mind since she said it. But this is the first time since that night that she hasn’t murdered me with her eyes. Progress.

I’m studying Oakley as Mads flirts with my teammates across the room. My ex watches them with a smile on her face, enjoying the free entertainment. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and my gaze drops to the curve of her neck. I have to physically stop myself from reaching out to touch her as muscle memory kicks in. My fingers tingle, and I can almost feel the softness of her skin across the distance.

Oakley doesn’t turn her attention to me until Mads follows my two teammates into the living room. I hand her a cold bottle of beer with the lid removed, but don’t let go when her fingers collapse around it. Awareness kicks in as those eyes are suddenly on me. She tilts her head with confusion written across her beautiful face.

“What’s this?” she asks. Her voice is soft and low. Almost intimate.

My mind goes back to the nights we lay in each other’s bed, talking well into the night.

“You asked for one of my beers,” I reply smoothly.

She lifts an eyebrow as we stand a breath away, holding on to the same bottle. I’m not willing to let it go. Our fingertips are millimeters apart. This beer is the only thing connecting us right now. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take what I can get if it means coming closer to her. She doesn’t let go either, giving me a tiny glimmer of hope that she still feels something for me. That she remembers how great we once were.

“Well, are you going to give it to me?” she challenges, providing me with a perfect opening.

I smirk. “Oh, I’ll give it to you all right.”

“Okay, Charlie,” she snarks, equating my behavior with my teammate’s.

I relinquish the beer. My eyes fall to her mouth as she takes a sip and then another. A rosy hue makes its way up her neck and colors her cheeks, proving that I still affect her. That she’s aware of my attention. That she still feels … something .

She looks away, trying to remain unimpressed by me. She’s throwing those walls back into place. I can smell her fear in the air. The guilt attacks my conscience because I’m the one who made her cautious in the first place.

I stay quiet as she thanks me for the beer and turns to walk into the living room. But I follow her and grab two dining room chairs along the way, knowing there won’t be any open seats left around the television. I purposely place my chair close to hers so I can enjoy the feel of her thigh pressed against mine. The air between us is charged with awareness. Her chest rises and falls with a deep breath right before she empties her beer. The bottle barely hits the floor beside her chair before I’m rising to replace her drink with a new one.

Her eyes silently question me when I return to hand her a new cold brew. There are so many things left unsaid between us. So many secrets I want to confess now. Mostly how much I’ve missed her. But there are too many ears in the room and too many eyes watching us right now. I can feel them even though I’m pretending not to notice.

We both shift our attention to the screen and watch as the Bruins compete for a spot in the finals. I’m a lifelong fan, and I react along with the rest of the room when the team scores. And even though I’m not focused on her, I can feel the wheels turning in Oakley’s head. She’s always been a deep thinker.

“It’s hot in here,” I say.

I slide my hand across her thigh, where it belongs, and ignore the way she stiffens at my touch. I’m sure I’ve just surprised her tonight. She probably thought we were completely finished. That we’d never get back together. Hell, I thought that too until recently.

The first period of the game ends, and people start moving around the house.

“Come outside with me?” I ask, pleading gently.

“Why?” she asks.

“Because I need some air. And I want you to keep me company.”

She hesitates. Her gaze hits the floor.

I dip my head until her eyes are fused with mine once again. “Come on, Oak.”

I can see the moment she decides to come. We rise and walk to the back. I hold the door for her, treating her like the queen she is. It warms my chest when she steps onto the empty deck with me. She walks to the railing, and I move in closer to eliminate any space between us. Her spine stiffens. She takes a drink of her Amstel Light. When she rests her free hand on the wood, I immediately slip mine on top of hers, lacing our fingers together. It’s a move as natural as breathing. I’ve done it a thousand times before, just not recently. But it feels right. Familiar. She’s warm and soft. She’s mine .

Something sinks back into place inside of me with us together again in this quiet backyard. Most of our friends are a few feet away in the house. It’s time to make my move and remind her of what we were. Convince her of what we could be now.

“Wait, Oakley,” I practically beg, tightening my hold when she attempts to pull away. And I never beg.

She freezes. “What are you doing, Sam?”

“I’ve missed you,” I confess.

She won’t look at me. I can feel her confusion like a living, breathing being. A million emotions pass across her face, but none of them hold indifference.

“Since when?” she challenges.

“Since you walked away from me,” I counter, my voice firm and sure. I’ll be certain enough for both of us that we’re meant to be together until she’s had time to catch up.

She pulls out of my grasp as we face each other. She’s trembling. “That’s funny … I seem to remember you being the one to walk away.”

These are details I don’t want her to focus on right now.

“And I’ve regretted it every day since,” I admit.

She scoffs. “When was it you missed me, Sam?” Her tone is angry. “Was it when you were hooking up with every puck bunny on campus? The redhead? Because I don’t recall you acting all that broken up over us.”

I hold my expression steady even though it’s a gut punch when she throws my indiscretions in my face. I wasn’t exactly hiding my conquests from her. And I shouldn’t be surprised by the fight in Oakley. Determination and fire are two of the things that attracted me to her in the first place. That, and the way she always looked at me.

I sigh, knowing I can’t dispute what she’s saying. But things are changing now. I’m changing them. I just need to convince her. I slide my fingers down her silky skin until I capture her hand once again.

“I made a mistake,” I say honestly. It didn’t feel like a mistake at the time, but it does now.

“You’ve made a lot of mistakes,” she replies with apparent hurt.

I grip her chin, quietly begging her to forgive me. To want me again. I slide my palm along her cheek. “I was an idiot.”

She’s silent as her mind churns. There’s a furrow between her brows that I’m desperate to wipe away. Her lips are full and turned into a slight pout as she dissects my apology and searches my eyes for the truth. Once my attention is on her mouth, I can’t pull it away. I want to touch her, taste her again.

I’m moving before my brain has a chance to catch up to my actions or before I’ve considered that this might be a bad move. I kiss her, conjuring up images of the million times I’ve taken her mouth before. She tastes like nostalgia, only better.

Oakley’s hands land on my chest. I’m not sure if she’s about to pull me closer or push me away, but the back door crashing against the side of the house interrupts us before I can find out. We pull apart as my eyes whip to the side to see Chase standing there. There’s a scowl on his face, and his cheeks are red with rage. His hands are fisted at his sides, and his nostrils are flaring. If I was unsure of his feelings for my ex before, I’m crystal clear on them now, though his hostility is one hundred percent centered on me.

“First chance you get, huh?” Chase spits out while staring me down. His words are low and simmering with unrestrained anger. “As soon as my back is turned, you make your move.”

I warned him I would. But he’s forgotten that he betrayed me first. I guess it’s time that I remind him.

“I could say the same to you.” My tone matches his. I won’t back down. This standoff between Chase and me has been brewing for some time now, like a storm building in the distance. He’s trying to take what’s mine. No one takes what’s mine. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you have her.”

“Excuse me,” Oakley says indignantly.

“And I told you ,” Chase counters as he moves closer, “that it’s not up to you. She isn’t yours. She never was.”

So, whose is she then? Yours? Fuck that.

A beat passes as we stare each other down, then another. I see his fist coming, but I don’t duck, allowing him to connect with my mouth. My lip splits, the metallic tang of blood landing on my tongue. I spit red-tinged saliva off the side of the porch and smirk. This is what I’ve been waiting for. A reason to fight back.

Blood surges through my veins. My knuckles crack when my fist connects with Chase’s cheek. It’s satisfying to see his head whip to the side from the force. I’m cocking back to strike again when Mike practically tackles me. Ollie—Oakley’s brother—wraps Chase up at the same time. I was so focused on my rage and the adversary standing in front of me that I didn’t see the others coming. I’m breathing hard from animosity and wrath as McMann wedges his large body between us.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” the goalie accuses. “We’ve got a game tomorrow. Don’t you want to play in the Frozen Four?” He shakes his head in disgust. “And you two choose now to go after each other?”

Chase ignores everyone, spinning around and barreling through the back door without a word. Oakley rushes after him. I shrug out of Mike’s hold and hurry after her, determination still pulsing through my veins.

I pause on the porch to see Oakley pleading with Chase in the front yard, but they’re standing close and speaking quietly so I can’t hear what they’re saying. The sight of her entangled with my roommate, my teammate, my brother … is like a knife to the chest. It’s obvious there’s something between them. Something deeper than a simple crush or a brief fling. The betrayal tastes bitter on my tongue. One of my best friends and my girl.

I barrel down the steps and grab Oakley’s arm as Chase turns to leave. I watch him moving farther away from the corner of my eye as Oakley shakes free of my hold before turning to face me.

“What, Sam?” Her arms are out. She’s frustrated and mad. “What do you want from me?” Her voice is raised, and there are tears in her eyes, but I’m not sure if they are for me or for him. A few spill down her face.

“I just want you ,” I insist, trying to convince her. I can feel time running out.

Adrenaline is coursing through my body. It’s left over from the fight that never really got started with Chase and the war I’m waging to get Oakley back right now. I reach out to wipe her tears, but she turns away from my touch.

Chase’s truck rumbles as the engine starts down the block.

My ex-girlfriend shakes her head. “You don’t want me.” Her turquoise eyes shine with accusation.

I grip both her arms to make her listen to me. To make her see. I’m not used to working so hard to convince a woman that I’m worth the risk. They usually fall at my feet, so I’m out of my element right now.

Foreign words emerge from my mouth. “We were so good together, Oakley. We were so good. Don’t you remember?”

She takes a calculated step back, removing herself from my hold, and the world is suddenly colder. She wipes the tears from her own cheeks, her eyes flitting between both of mine as she studies my face.

“I remember, Sam,” she whispers, warming me all over again as hope surges.

It’s us, Oak. You and me. It’ll always be us.

She reaches up to rest her palm on my cheek, and it’s the first time in weeks—months—that she’s deliberately touched me. The familiar scent of her skin surrounds me.

“I remember everything,” she continues with a small, determined smile. “The good and the bad. But mostly … I remember the way your back looked as you walked away from me. From us. That’s the image I picture the most when I think about you and me these days.”

I can hear the defeat in her voice. The sadness for things lost. The exhaustion after the drama on the back deck. But the thing that grabs me the most is the resolve that’s lying there, along with all the other emotions.

And it hits me in this moment like a bolt of lightning … I’ve lost her.

She rises on her toes and kisses my cheek. Everything inside of me feels the goodbye hidden inside her kiss.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I watch her spin on her heel and start walking down the pathway toward campus, but I say nothing. What more is there to say? Madison falls into step beside her, slinging her arm across her bestie’s shoulders in silent solidarity. My eyes are glued to Oakley’s back as I watch all my expectations disappear with her petite frame around the corner.

My lip is bleeding. My knuckles are swollen. But it’s my chest that hurts the most. The ache is deep and heavy and unrelenting. I’ve never felt it before. The hopelessness. The emptiness. The lack of control. And I wonder if this is the way Oakley felt when I walked away from her all those weeks ago.