"He won't if you just---"
"I'm not taking that risk." He drops the knife back onto his plate. His chin is raised, his posture defiant, but his eyes are seeing things that I can't. "Myles knew the rules."
A bitter laugh rips from my throat. "'Rules?' Do you even hear yourself? f**k rules! There are things that don't need 'rules,' and relationships are one of those things."
He simply shakes his head. Sad. Solemn. Unyielding. A mountain cloaked in rain. "Not in my world," he says. "This is how things are."
"But they don't have to stay that way." My voice is shaky, but I force the words out---my last chance to make things right. "Those are the rules your father wrote, but you can change them, Sam. You can be better than the men who came before you. You swore you would. Don't you remember?
