Free Rules for Life by Darlene Ryan Page A

somewhere?”
    â€œTrust me,” Dad said. “Jason won’t care and Isabelle will understand. It’s not a big deal.”
    Anne reached up and laid her hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Please, Marc. At least wait until Isabelle gets home.”
    â€œIsabelle is home,” I said.
    They both swung around.
    â€œIf you’re going to talk about me like I’m not in the room, then make sure I’m not in the room,” I said. (Mom’s Rule #21.)
    Anne almost smiled. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Our wedding pictures came back. I’d like to move the photograph of your mother over to the left a little and put a picture of your dad and me at the other end of the mantel. Is that all right with you?”
    Sit Mom next to the alabaster elephant she brought back from Mexico, where she could look over at Dad and Anne holding hands? No way. “I’d rather put Mom’s picture in my room,” I said. “Then you can just put your picture up in the middle.”
    â€œGreat,” Dad said in a too-cheery glad-that’s-settled voice.
    â€œAre you sure?” Anne asked.
    I nodded.
    â€œYou don’t have to do that. There’s plenty of room for both pictures.”
    â€œIt’s okay. I want to.”
    Anne looked at me without saying anything for a long, uncomfortable moment. “All right,” she said finally. She reached up for the picture and handed it to me. Then she folded both hands over the baby bump. “I have some things to do upstairs,” she said, and she left the room without looking at Dad or me.

17
    I laid my head against Rafe’s chest where I could breathe in the scent of him—deodorant soap and Big Red gum—at the open neck of his jacket. Mixed with the cold night air it was clean and comforting. “Mmm, you smell good,” I said.
    â€œYou feel good,” he said, rubbing one hand down my side and up under one of my sweaters.
    I kissed the hollow space at the base of his throat. “Yeah, I’ve noticed you seem to like the way I feel.”
    Rafe made a frustrated growl in the back of his throat and pulled me tighter against him. “I don’t wanna go.”
    â€œWhat time’s practice?”
    â€œSix.”
    I groaned. “I can’t even stand up at 6 a.m., let alone skate.” I nipped the curve of his ear with my teeth. “You could skip practice.”
    Rafe sucked in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. “Stop that,” he said. “You want St. Vincent’s to take the title this year?” He turned me in his arms so my back was against his chest and leaned his chin on the top of my head. “We could go for breakfast tomorrow after I’m done.”
    â€œCan’t,” I said. “The old gals are having a bake sale at the center and I promised I’d help. They’re raising money to buy a van so they can go on some overnight trips.”
    Rafe laughed. “Overnight in a van. Is it going to have tinted windows and a red velour interior?”
    I reached back and gave the side of his head a smack. “Not that kind of overnighter, you sicko. They just want to go shopping and play bingo.”
    â€œYou don’t know that for sure. Even old people get horny sometimes.”
    I shifted in his arms. “I can’t believe you said that. You’re the one who’s always grossed out thinking about your parents having sex.”
    He made a face. “That’s totally different.”
    â€œYou want me to believe that some of those old people down at the Seniors Center are … Yeech!”
    â€œWhy not?”
    I shook my head hard, trying to shake out the picture. “I don’t even want to think about it.” Great. Now how was I going to look Mrs. Mac in the eye the next time I saw her?
    â€œYou’re going to get cold out here,” Rafe said. “And I should go.” He leaned down and