Chapter Twenty-Three
Rule Breaker
Winnie
“Start from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”
Tori sits cross-legged on her couch, a wine glass in hand, wearing her “emergency debrief” outfit—an oversized sweater, a messy bun, and zero judgment. Zayden took Maisie to the park specifically so we could have this conversation, which means Tori already knows something significant happened.
I don’t even know where to begin. “The gala was nice,” I start.
“Skip the nice parts. Get to the good stuff.”
I groan. “The good stuff is complicated.”
“The good stuff is always complicated. That’s what makes it good.” She takes a sip of wine. “Spill.”
I take a breath. Then another. Then I drain half my wine glass in one go. “We kissed,” I say. “For real.”
Tori’s eyes go wide. Then her face splits into a grin so bright it could power the city. “I knew it. I knew something happened. You’ve had that look—”
“What look?”
“The ‘I did something I shouldn’t have and I don’t regret it’ look. It’s very specific.” She sets down her wine and leans forward. “Tell me everything. Where? When? How? Was there tongue? There was tongue, wasn’t there? I can tell by your face there was tongue.”
“Tori.”
“What? I’m invested. This is the most exciting thing that’s happened since Zayden proposed.” She waves her hand impatiently. “Go. Talk. Details.”
So I tell her.
I tell her about the dance floor—how he held me, how safe I felt, how I nearly ruined everything by asking about other women. I tell her about him dragging me off the floor, pulling me into that storage room, the intensity in his eyes. I tell her about the kiss.
“It was…” I search for the right word and come up empty. “I don’t know how to describe it. It was like—like everything else disappeared. Like the whole world narrowed down to just us, just that moment, just his mouth on mine.”
“That’s poetic as fuck.”
“I’m serious, Tor. I’ve never been kissed like that. I didn’t know kissing could feel like that.”
“And then?”
I hesitate. This is the part I’m not sure I should share. The part that keeps replaying in my head on an endless loop, making my cheeks flush and my thighs clench.
“Win.” Tori’s voice is gentler now. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’m here. No judgment.”
“We got interrupted. A caterer walked in.” I take another sip of wine. “He drove me home. I invited him up.”
Tori inhales sharply. “And?”
“And…” I close my eyes, and I’m back there. In my apartment. On my couch. His hands on my body, his mouth on my skin, the weight of him beneath me as I—
“We didn’t have sex,” I say quickly. “Not technically. But we… there was…”
“Fooling around? Heavy petting? Mutual satisfaction?”
“All of the above.”
Tori lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a squeal and a scream. She clamps her hand over her mouth, bouncing on the couch like a kid on Christmas morning. “This is amazing. This is the best news I’ve ever heard. You and Banks—finally—”
“It’s not amazing.” I set down my wine glass before I spill it. “It’s terrifying. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had a plan. I had rules.”
“Rules?”
“No men. No drama. No losing myself in another relationship.” I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. “I was supposed to stay detached. This was supposed to be fake. And now it’s—”
“Real?”
“I don’t know what it is.” I drop my hands and look at her. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what any of this means. We haven’t talked about it. He left, and we texted goodnight like normal, and now I’m sitting here trying to figure out if I just made the biggest mistake of my life.”
Tori’s expression softens. She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Win, honey. You’re allowed to have feelings.”
“I have rules, Tori.”
“Rules are made to be broken.”
“That’s what people say when they’re about to make terrible decisions.” I pull my hand back and reach for my wine again. “I’ve been here before. I know how this ends. I fall for someone, I lose myself, I spend two years picking up the pieces.”
“Banks isn’t Derek.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that.” Her voice is firm now. “Derek was a manipulative asshole who made you feel small so he could feel big. Banks is—” She gestures vaguely. “Banks is the opposite of that. He’s awkward and grumpy and terrible at expressing himself, but he would never, ever try to diminish you.”
I think about last night. About the way Banks touched me—reverent, almost worshipful. Like I was something precious. Something valuable.
Derek never touched me like that. Derek rushed through touching me so that I would touch him. Perched in his lap, it felt like Banks would have been happy to touch me, and gaze longingly at me for hours.
“He’s different,” I admit quietly. “I know he’s different. But that doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing.”
“Since when does anyone know what they’re doing?” Tori refills both our glasses. “Love isn’t a business plan, Win. You can’t strategize your way through it.”
“Who said anything about love?”
She gives me a look. The look that says girl, please.
“Fine. I have… feelings. Strong feelings. Confusing feelings.” I take a long drink. “When I’m with him, I feel—I don’t know. Seen. Like he actually pays attention to who I am, not who he wants me to be.”
“That’s because he does. Have you noticed how he watches you? Like you’re the only person in the room.”
I have noticed. It’s one of the things that terrified me at first—the intensity of his attention. Derek’s attention always felt like surveillance. Like he was cataloging my flaws, storing ammunition for later.
Banks’s attention feels different. Protective. Curious. Like he’s trying to understand me, not control me.
“He’s certainly not like anyone I’ve ever been with,” I say.
“That’s a good thing, Win.”
“Is it?” I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be with someone who’s actually… good.
The word feels inadequate. Banks isn’t just good. He’s solid, dependable, fiercely loyal. He shows up. He pays attention. He asks if things are okay instead of assuming.
And God, the way he touches me.
I flash back to last night—his fingers sliding between my legs, finding exactly the right spot like he’d studied a map of my body. The sounds he made when I wrapped my hand around him. The way his eyes went dark and desperate when I sank to my knees.
You could have warned me, I’d said.
Warned you about what? Like he genuinely didn’t understand.
Like he had no idea he was packing something that could qualify as a concealed weapon.
“You’re blushing,” Tori observes. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing!”
“Liar. You’re thinking about sex stuff. I can tell.”
“I’m not—”
“Your whole face is red. Your ears are red. You’re definitely thinking about sex stuff.” She grins. “Was it good? It was good, wasn’t it? Tell me it was good.”
“It was…” I search for a word that won’t make me combust from embarrassment. “Unexpected.”
“Unexpected how?”
“Just… unexpected.” I can’t look at her. “In a good way. In a very good way.”
“Oh my gosh.” Tori claps her hands together. “He’s secretly amazing in bed, isn’t he? It’s always the quiet ones. The big, grumpy, emotionally constipated ones who turn out to be absolute animals behind closed doors—”
“We didn’t have sex.”
“You had something. Something that’s making you blush like a virgin on prom night.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Details. Now. Best friend privilege.”
I bury my face in a throw pillow. “I can’t.”
“You can. You must. I demand it.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m supportive.” Her lips twitch. “There’s a difference.”
I lift my face from the pillow and take a fortifying breath. “He’s… generous. Attentive. Very focused on making sure I—” I make a vague gesture. “Before he… “—another vague gesture—”and when I saw—” A third gesture, this one more emphatic.
“Winnie. Use your words.”
“I can’t use my words. My words have abandoned me.” I grab the pillow again. I want to press my face into it. Hide from this entire conversation. Too bad I know Tori would never let me do that. “Let’s just say I understand why he walks around with that quiet confidence now. He’s earned it.”
Tori is silent for a moment. Then realization dawns. “Are we talking size, skill, or both?”
“Both,” I mumble into the pillow. “Definitely both.”
She lets out a low whistle. “Banks Callahan. Full of surprises.”
“You have no idea.”
We sit in silence for a moment, both of us sipping our wine. The afternoon light is fading, casting long shadows across Tori’s living room. In an hour, Zayden and Maisie will be back, and this bubble of girl talk will burst.
“So what happens now?” Tori asks.
“I don’t know.” I set down my glass. “He said boundaries can go back to whatever I want. That I’m in charge.”
“That’s very mature of him.”
“It’s very confusing of him.” I pull my knees up to my chest, making myself small. “What if last night was just… release? Strictly physical. What if he doesn’t want more? What if I’m reading too much into everything?”
“Win.” Tori’s voice is gentle but firm. “The man looked at you like you hung the moon. At the gala. In front of everyone. That wasn’t release. That was something else.”
“What if I screw it up?”
“What if you don’t?”
I don’t have an answer for that.
“Here’s what I think,” Tori says, shifting closer. “I think you’ve spent so long protecting yourself that you’ve forgotten what it feels like to take a risk. I think Derek broke something in you, and you’ve been so focused on putting it back together that you haven’t left room for anything new.”
“That’s very insightful.”
“I’m a very insightful person.” She squeezes my knee. “Banks isn’t a risk, Win. He’s a sure thing. Anyone can see how much he cares about you. The question is whether you’re brave enough to let him.”
Brave. Am I brave?
I don’t feel brave. I feel terrified. Overwhelmed. Like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, trying to decide whether to jump.
But underneath the terror, there’s something else. Something small and fragile and persistent.
Hope.
I haven’t felt hope in a long time. Not about relationships. Not about love. I’d convinced myself I didn’t need it—that I was better off alone, safer alone, happier alone.
But last night, in Banks’s arms, I didn’t feel alone. I felt found.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say quietly. “Maybe I just need to let it happen.”
“That’s my girl.” Tori clinks her glass against mine. “To letting it happen.”
“To probably making terrible decisions.”
“Same thing.”
We drink. The wine warms my chest, loosening the knots of anxiety that have been there since I woke up this morning.
“He’s a good guy, Win.” Tori’s voice is soft now. “Whatever happens, remember that.” She pulls me into a hug, and I let her. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens. I promise.”
I hold on tight and let myself believe her.
Just for a moment.
Just for now.