Free Breaking All the Rules by Abi Walters Page A

washed up piece of scum harassing her for him to finally see it. He’d nearly broken the glass in his hand when he narrowed in on them from across the room. Mia was his, but he wasn’t sure if he could ever have her the way he wanted. Her body rose and fell with silent sobs she prayed he didn’t see. He did, though he tightened his jaw and ignored them, pulling on the rest of his clothes and disappearing through the door with a thunderous click behind him.
    Chapter Four
    Lora had a tiny apartment close to NYU. She hated commuting, something that always amused Mia. When they had first met, she told Lora she was in the wrong city. New York was nothing but commutes and traffic. Lora had looked back at her with bright eyes and a glimmer of magic and told her dreams were made of places like New York City. Dreams were made there, but nightmares dwelled in the dark alleys and busy streets, too. Mia knew those nightmares well.
    Snapping back to reality, Mia focused her attention on the mother daughter duo on the other side of the short bar. Much like Mia’s studio, Lora’s apartment had an island seating area. Lora utilized it, opting out of a dining room table so she could fit a large desk flanked by bookshelves in her living room. The shelves were full of heavy textbooks and history, and her desk was never without a hefty stack of papers. Unlike Mia’s organized loft, Lora’s place was a chaotic display of warmth. Her couch was cozy; wearing a spare blanket and a few pillows she kept for when she had overnight visitors. Her coffee table was cluttered with mugs and notepads scribbled with dark ink. A chocolate papasan chair near her television was never available, her orange tabby cat always curled up in its depths. Her bedroom wasn’t much different from the main living area. Clothes were spewed across the floor in piles waiting to be hung. Mia was grateful that she kept her bathroom clean and organized at least most of the time.
    Lora looked just like her mother. Mia wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen Mrs. Tate without her hair pulled into a ponytail or her glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She was plumper than Lora, her large hips always swaying as she laughed. Mrs. Tate took a Greyhound from small town Pennsylvania to New York City twice a year to see Lora. On Christmas and Thanksgiving, Mia and Lora piled into the barely used car below Mia’s apartment and made the journey themselves. Growing up in such a violent home, Mia welcomed the hospitality.
    She didn’t keep in touch with her family. She had warned her mother from the steps of the bus that if she didn’t leave her second-husband she’d never see her daughter again. Her mom let her go. Mia’s younger brother by two years, Edmund, grew to be a cop in Hartford, an hour’s drive from their hometown. Every so often he’d send Mia a text or try to call. Sometimes she answered. He kept close tabs on their mother, watching for bruises and trying to coax her to press charges against her husband. It never worked. Their mother was a coward. She took the beatings and didn’t bat an eye when her new husband took to hurting her children, hurting Mia with more than just his fists.
    “You’re spacey, Mia,” Lora looked over her shoulder. “Don’t try to tell me it’s still a hangover, either. See, mom, I told you she was acting weird.”
    Mia shot her friend a dirty look, “I’m fine. It was a long night.”
    “You haven’t withdrawn like this in years. I’m worried.”
    “I ran into Aaron last night,” Mia bit out.
    Lora gasped, “Shit!”
    “Watch your mouth,” Mrs. Tate scolded. “Who is Aaron? An ex-boyfriend?”
    “Something like that,” Mia shifted uneasily in her seat, not wanting to let the closest thing she had to a mother know the depths of her past. “He’s the one that messed me up when I got to the city. I honestly didn’t think he’d still be alive.”
    “Oh,” Mrs. Tate’s eyebrows were bunched together with concern. “Did