The Rules We Break (The Alphaletes Book 4), page 1
Published by Katelyn Taylor
Cover art by Sammi Bee Designs
Edited by My Brother's Editor
Formatted by Katelyn Taylor
The Rules We Break is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and places are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental.
The Rules We Break Copyright © 2024 by Katelyn Taylor
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Playlist
Trevor's Playlist
Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi
You Proof by Morgan Wallen
The Hills by The Weeknd
Can't Hold Us by Macklemore, Ryan Lewis
Slayer by Bryce Savage
All I Do Is Win by DJ Khaled
All The Way Up by Fat Joe, Remy Ma, French Montana
Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood
Take Me To Church by Hozier
Falling Like The Stars by James Arthur
Sage's Playlist
Nowhere To Go by Bad Omens
Sex With Me by Rhianna
Master Of Puppets by Metallica
Paint The Town Red by Doja Cat
Bad Blood by Taylor Swift
Greedy by Tate McRae
Riptide by Beartooth
Centuries by Fall Out Boy
Issues by Julia Michaels
Mine by Sleep Token
Say You Won't Let Go by James Arthur
Dedication
To anyone who has ever loved and lost and you’re not sure if you’ll ever love again. I hope you find someone as sexy as Sage that can fuck like Trevor.
Trigger Warning
Your mental health is always first priority. Before continuing please make sure you review the potential triggers.
This book contains:
Domestic Violence/ Physical Abuse
Violence
Death of a parent
Explicit sexual scenes
Explicit language
Kidnapping
Trevor
Nineteen Years Ago
It’s move-in day for our new neighbors.
I don’t know much about them. I heard my parents talking about how they were lawyers or something. I guess Mom already went over there and invited them to dinner. She’s always like that, getting to know all of the neighbors first, and letting the rest of the neighborhood know everything she learns. I’ve tried to tell her it’s not cool to do that, but what parent listens to their twelve-year-old son when it comes to stuff like that?
Let’s be real, though. What parents listen to their twelve-year-old son, period?
My dad owns a lot of buildings and houses, and despite him telling me a million times what he does with them, I never take too much time to listen. My mom is a full-time wife. At least that’s what she says her job title is. One time I tried to tell her that I wasn’t sure that was a real job, and she cried for a week, so I quickly learned to never talk about it again.
Don’t get me wrong, my parents are great. They don’t punish me, they give me anything and everything I want, and for the most part, they leave me alone. Sometimes too much. Rich kid problems, right?
Dad is already talking about me joining him at his company when I graduate college; meanwhile I’m more interested in football season coming up. I hope one day he will see that life isn’t supposed to always be about just work and money. There is more to it, right? I hope there is, at least.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I chug the majority of it before tossing it back in. Scooping up the football I brought inside, I head out to play some touch in the cul-de-sac with some of the neighbor guys. Some of them are on the team at school and aren’t too bad. None of them besides me can even come close to throwing a spiral, though.
When I step outside, I walk down our winding driveway before I see the guys standing around a girl who looks to be at least a few years younger than us, despite how tall she seems. Her hair is long, curly, and a fire-engine red color. I’ve never seen someone with such red hair, not in person at least. Most redheads that I’ve met are more like an orange color. Not her, though.
She’s pretty. Really pretty from what I can tell. I’m not sure I’ve seen a girl as pretty as her.
I watch as she talks, too far away to quite hear what she’s saying, but I watch the way her aqua blue eyes widen slightly, almost making it hard to breathe for a second. What the heck? I pat my chest trying to clear whatever is stuck inside, but it won’t budge.
I continue walking toward them, curious what this little redheaded girl wants when I hear a smooth voice.
“I’m going to play,” she states so confidently, so truly, that it comes out as a fact instead of a question.
All of the guys laugh at her and it has me clenching my fist. I don’t like that. Emmett Carson is laughing so hard he looks as if he can’t breathe. Johnny laughs the loudest, pushing his black hair out of his face as he smiles in a mean way at her.
“No,” he says. “Why don’t you go play with your Barbies, little girl?”
I watch as her cheeks turn red, and she tucks a piece of her fiery locks behind her ear before glancing down at her shoes. I watch as the fight in her seems to escape like a deflating balloon. She’s second guessing why she came over here in the first place, and all she wanted to do was play football with us.
“Shut it,” I snap as I finally make it to the road, pushing through the still laughing guys until I’m in the middle of all of them.
I’m the captain of the football team, even as a sixth grader. Coach says I have good leadership skills, and people listen when I talk, so I use that power now. All of the guys have stopped laughing, all staring at me like they are waiting to hear me talk. Good.
Wow. She’s even prettier up close than she was from my driveway. I take another step closer to her, a sweet smell suddenly filling my nose. It’s like a fruit. Apples? Oranges?
Peaches.
She smells good. Really good. I take another step toward her, looking her over from head to toe before I turn my head to the side slightly.
“Have you played before?”
She pauses on my question for a second before she nods her head, rolling back her shoulders to stand taller as she does. I narrow my eyes at her like I’m weighing my options even though I already know I’m going to let the redheaded beauty play. I glance at Johnny who wordlessly tosses me the football before I turn back to her, holding it out for her to take.
“Let’s see what you got,” I say.
The girl takes the ball from my hand before she takes a step back. Part of me wants to tell her she needs to fix her footing. Coach has that permanently stuck in my head at this point, but it’s not like she’s even been quarterback before, so how would she know? She has a look of determination on her face, like it’s all come down to this. She doesn’t know that no matter how bad she is, she’s still playing with us.
She pulls her arm back and throws it. It’s not perfect, her technique could use some work, but I can help her with that. The fiery determination this girl has is more than enough to work with and just like that, the weird heavy feeling in my chest is back. Her aqua eyes come over to me, all the guys stunned in silence while I’m smiling like a fool because dang, I really like this girl.
I reach out for her, hooking my pinky with hers before dragging her over to be closer to me. Partly so we can play, and the other part because I already miss the smell of her. I breathe quietly so she can’t hear me smelling her. Never thought I liked peaches so much.
“I’m Trevor,” I say as I smile down at her. “And you are most definitely on my team, Little Red.”
The nickname rolls off my tongue by accident. But it’s perfect for her, and I instantly love it.
Little Red.
My Little Red.
Trevor
Erica Pembrooke has been the love of my life since I was twelve years old. It was instant for me. We were inseparable for what seemed like forever at the time. She was two years younger than me, though, and when you’re young, that tiny age difference can feel massive. So I waited until the time was right to make her mine.
When I was a sophomore in high school and Erica was in eighth grade, she got stood up for a dance. I was coming back from football practice, trying to catch a glimpse of her in the dress I helped her pick out before she left when I saw her on the front porch of the house. My heart sank instantly when I saw the tears on her face as I slammed the door of my Mustang and rushed over to her.
She told me about how the guy never showed up, and she was too embarrassed to go inside. I was so fucking pissed. I was ready to hunt down this Jimmy Kowlitz and beat his ass for making my girl shed a single tear. Instead, I grabbed her hand, walked her over to my car, opening the door before letting her get inside. I took us to Moe’s, the best little burger shop Grovebury had to offer, and we ate on the hood of my car out front.
I knew this was my chance, finally. I knew she was ready, or maybe I was sick of waiting for her. Either way, I grabbed her hand, pulling her to my chest before locking our pinkies together. It was our thing and just the touch of her silky skin against mine and the overwhelming scent of peaches had my heart jackhammering inside my chest. My eyes locked onto hers, those sparkling aqua blues, as I leaned in and s
We were happy for years, so fucking happy. But when it was time for me to go to college hours away, I got self-doubt. The guys on the football team had me convinced that I shouldn’t go to college with a girlfriend. They said college girls were different, the parties were different, and Brighton University practically worshipped their football team. They told me if I didn’t break up with Erica, we’d end up breaking up anyway.
At first I told them to fuck off, but I’m ashamed to admit fear crept in. I was worried about the distance, and if I’m honest, I was worried I’d do something I’d regret and hurt Erica. So, I ended things. Biggest fucking mistake of my life. Somehow the angel of a woman managed to stay my best friend, and when it was her turn to come to Brighton, I knew I was about to get my girl back, for good this time.
Plans don’t always work out the way they do in your head, though. I always thought that when I saw Erica Pembrooke in a wedding dress, I’d be at the other end of the aisle, waiting for my bride. Instead, I was in the front pew, not even in the wedding party as I watched her marry my best friend, or I guess, former best friend. It hurt like hell, and I left shortly after the ceremony where I got trashed and woke up in bed with a few girls the next morning. It didn’t matter, though. None of them were her.
It’s been nearly ten years since I blew it with Erica, again. Sebastian stole her out from under me, and even though what he did was shitty, what I did after was worse. I’m thankful every day that Erica forgave me. Seb, not as much, but that’s fine. All I need is Erica.
I take a sip of my bourbon, staring out the window at the cloud-covered sky. Man, they really do not exaggerate when they say Seattle is gray. I’ve been in the NFL for eight years, all of those were spent playing for the San Antonio Cobras. They were good to me, and I enjoyed Texas, but I knew it was time to come back to my roots. Be closer to my friends.
And her.
Don’t worry if you hate me for being in love with a married woman, then rest assured I hate myself more. I know she’s happily married, and I wish that I could say Sebastian Caldwell doesn’t deserve her, but…he does. He treats her like she’s a queen, a goddess, and that’s the way it should be because she is.
I asked for the trade at the end of last season, and even though the majority of that reason was my redheaded best friend, it felt right. Our other friends and teammates from college all play for the Seattle Crusaders. Declan even came out of retirement to play one more season where we are all together. Slater is our running back, Declan our defensive end, Sebastian our tight end, and I’m the Crusaders’ new quarterback.
From the outside, you’d think I had it all. I own multiple properties, have more money than I know what to do with, and I’m on the fast track to go down in the hall of fame. As far as companionship goes, my bed never goes cold. Women hear that I’m a professional football player, and their panties practically disintegrate right then and there. It was fun for a while, drowning my pain and heartache in booze and faceless nameless women. But it’s grown a little boring. At the end of the day, I’ll never have a real connection with any of them because it’s against the rules. I’m safer that way.
I came up with the rules shortly after Erica and Sebastian had their twin girls, Delilah and Rosie. Delilah looks like a spitting image of Sebastian, but Rosie…god. Some days when I stare at her for too long, she looks exactly like Erica, and it breaks my fucking heart. So, after that day, I came up with a list of rules, and they’ve proved to keep my heart locked down and my feelings unscathed since.
No kissing on the mouth
No sleepovers
No women at my place
No repeats
No falling in love
Some have said my rules are too much, douchey even. But I never even touch a woman without laying out the ground rules. I’m out to have a good time, find a little peace where I can, and go home. I’m not trying to break anyone’s heart. I wouldn’t wish that feeling on my worst enemy.
When the plane lands, it doesn’t take long before the stewardess I just fucked in the bathroom tells me it’s safe to de-plane now, not so subtly slipping me her number. I give her a smile but toss her number in the trash on my way down the stairs. Sorry, babe. Rule number four.
Flying private definitely has its perks, and it gives me the chance to keep a low profile. That’s the part you don’t think about too much. When you’re young and just getting into the game, you’re almost desperate for someone to recognize you off the field, give you that validation that you’re someone important. Now, I can’t even go to the gym or grab a coffee without being swarmed. It’s fucking exhausting.
I slide into the waiting town car as the flight crew loads my bags into the trunk. I already bought a condo up here while I was still in Texas, and I had all of my things shipped. It’s all waiting for me, which is a nice relief. I pull out my phone, turning off Airplane Mode before shooting out a text.
Me: Just landed. I can’t wait to see you.
Her reply comes instantly.
Erica: Yay! Me too.
I can’t help but smile at that as I type out my next response.
Me: Dinner tonight?
The hope blooming in my chest at the idea of seeing Erica tonight shrivels up and dies when she texts me back.
Erica: Sorry. Seb and I have date night tonight. Rain check?
Blowing out a breath, I shake my head as I type out my response.
Me: Sure, no problem. Have fun.
Is this what living in Seattle is going to be like? I thought it would feel good being closer to Erica and the girls. But am I just going to get a front-row seat of how perfect Erica and Seb’s life is? About how glaringly obvious it is that I don’t belong in any of their lives?
Shaking my head, I decide to push away the self-deprecating shit and send another text. I need to get laid, and I know just the guy to be my wingman for the night.
Trevor
“Dude, will you get off your fucking phone?” I shout over the thumping base of the club.
Slater continues tapping away on his phone as he rolls his eyes at me.
“Fuck you. Scar is just checking in.”
I lift my drink to my lips, taking a sip before I speak.
“How is Freckles doing?”
Slater shoots me a look of irritation as he pockets his phone.
“She’s fine. She says hi.”
I smirk. “Well, if tonight doesn’t go as planned, I could always come back to your place. I would make an exception to my no-repeat rule for her.”
His fist slams into my arm, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Shut your fucking mouth about my wife, Michaels.”
Shaking my head at him with a chuckle, I look out from the VIP section to the club floor. It’s pretty packed tonight, and everyone seems to be having a good time. The fact that I’m on my third drink tonight tells me I should be having a good time too. For some reason that’s not the case, though. Maybe it’s because of my lame wingman.
“I brought you because I thought you’d be fun. You’re being a buzz kill.”
Slater takes a sip of his seltzer water as he shrugs.
“I miss my girl, bro. She has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I’m not looking to get trashed.”
My brows furrow at that. “She good?”
Slater nods softly. “Just some scans. Routine.”
“Good.” I nod.
Scar just finished her chemo at the beginning of the year. Last I spoke to her, she was feeling good, getting back into things. It was scary there for a while. I didn’t know if she was gonna make it, and if she didn’t make it, there was no way Slater would have.
They are like Erica and me. They met as kids, became best friends, loved each other forever, but where I took my shot with Erica, Slater never did. He even went off and married someone else, all while leaving Scar on the sidelines. Eventually he pulled his head out of his ass. All it took was some well-timed jealousy, orchestrated by yours truly. One of my best friends finally got the girl, and I got a nice blow job out of it.
