Chapter 3 The Rule

Nobody spoke.

The silence stretched across the studio as a wire pulled tight. Jace stood in the doorway, breathing hard. Aren stood by the wall with his hands in his jacket pockets, perfectly still. And I stood between them, feeling like an intruder.

"Iz," Jace said at last. His voice was low and careful. "Come here."

I didn't move.

"Now. Please."

Aren shifted his weight. "Jace, it's not what..."

"Not you." Jace didn't look at him. "I'm talking to my sister."

I crossed the room. My legs felt heavy. When I reached my brother, he took my shoulders and looked me over from head to toe, checking if have bruises or I’m hurt or whatever he is thinking at. Then he exhaled, long and shaky breath, and pulled me into a hard hug.

"You scared me," he said into my hair. "Jolie said you weren't in your room. Your location showed Summit Rink, and it's closed, and it's dark, and I thought..."

I patted his back. I'm fine, I signed, over his shoulder, so he could feel the movement of my arm.

"I know." He let go. His eyes were wet. "I know you're fine. I just...Don’t want to lose you."

He glanced past me. His jaw tightened.

"What are you doing here, man?" he asked.

"Practice ended late," Aren said. "I heard music. I came to check."

"At ten at night."

"Yeah."

"And what's she wearing?"

The silence returned. I looked at the floor.

"It's my sweatshirt," Aren said evenly. "She took the wrong one off a chair. It was a mistake."

"A mistake."

"That's what I said."

"Aren."

"Nothing happened, Jace."

My brother turned fully toward him now. I had never seen Jace's face like that. With a big brother expression.

"I told you," Jace said quietly.

"I know what you told me."

"I told you to stay away from her."

My head snapped up.

He told Aren?

I looked at Aren. He didn't look at me. His eyes were fixed on my brother and a muscle moved in his jaw.

"I did stay away," he said. "For three years. You know that."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because she was dancing," Aren said, and for the first time, his voice cracked. "And I..."

He stopped.

Jace waited. I held my breath.

"I heard the music," Aren finished, lamely. "That's all."

It was not all. Even I could tell. But Jace let it go, or pretended to, and the tension in the room shifted, loosening a little at the edges.

"Get your stuff, Iz," my brother said. "We're leaving."

I packed my bag in silence.

I took off the pointe shoes, put on sneakers, and stuffed my leg warmers into the duffel. When I reached for the blue sweatshirt, to pull it off, Jace's hand closed over my wrist.

"Keep it on," he said. "It's cold out."

I frowned. I should give it back.

"You can give it back later." He wouldn't meet my eyes. "I don't want you walking in a T-shirt."

It wasn't the real reason. I knew it, and he knew that I knew. But I let him steer me to the door.

At the threshold, I looked back.

Aren was still standing by the wall. He hadn't moved. He watched me go with an expression I couldn't read, not smiling, not frowning, just looking at me with longing in his eyes? No impossible maybe I’m too tired, that’s why I’m imagining things.

I lifted my hand, very slightly, before I could stop myself.

He lifted his.

Then Jace pulled me through the door, and it swung shut behind us.

We walked back to the dorms in the cold.

Jace didn't talk. He kept one hand on my shoulder, as if I might wander off. The campus was quiet, lit in pools of yellow, and our breath curled in front of us like smoke.

Halfway across the courtyard, I stopped and took out my phone.

Why did you tell Aren to stay away from me?

I held up the screen. He read it. His shoulders sank.

"It's not what you think."

What do I think?

"That I don't trust him." He rubbed his eyes. "I do. He's my best friend. He's the best guy I know."

Then why?

Jace took a long time to answer. When he did, his voice was careful, like he was picking his way across thin ice.

"Because I know him," he said. "And I know you. And I think..." He shook his head. "I just don't want you to get hurt, Iz. You've been through a lot of shit."

That's not an answer.

"It's the one I've got."

I stared at him. He stared back.

For the first time in years, I had the strange, uneasy feeling that my brother was keeping something from me.

But who am I to blame? I’ve been hiding our family secrets for years now…

Okay, I typed, finally. It was easier than arguing.

"Thank you." He hugged me again, quickly. "I love you. Lock your door."

Always.

Jolie was waiting up when I got back.

She was sitting cross-legged on her bed with a laptop she wasn't looking at, and the second I walked in, she sat up like a spring.

WHAT, she signed, HAPPENED?

She signed so that we could have a private conversation and no one would hear it.

Nothing.

You're wearing a sweatshirt that says CAEDMON on the tag.

I looked down. I hadn't noticed. In the corner of the collar, in small white letters, a name was stitched. I touched it with one finger.

Oh my god, Jolie signed, delighted. Oh my GOD.

What?

It's his.

It was a mistake.

It's HIS. She flopped backward onto the bed and kicked her feet. I knew it. I KNEW it.

Nothing happened!

Isadora. A man named Caedmon saw you in his sweatshirt, and you're blushing so hard I can see it from here.

I threw a pillow at her.

Later, in bed, I lay in the dark with the sweatshirt still on. I couldn't make myself take it off. It was soft, and warm, and it smelled like cedar and cold air.

It smelled like him.

My phone lit up on the nightstand.

An unknown number.

I almost didn't open it. Then, slowly, I reached for it.

Unknown*: Hi. It's Aren. Jolie gave me your number. Please don't be mad at her. She said I'd have to apologize to you in writing, since I clearly can't be trusted to do it out loud.*

I stared at the screen.

Unknown*: I'm sorry I yelled. And I'm sorry about your brother. I didn't want to get you in trouble.*

My heart was thumping against my ribs. I held the phone above my face, and the light made a small blue circle on the ceiling.

Unknown*: You don't have to answer. I just wanted you to know I'm not scared of your silence.*

I read that line three times.

Then, very slowly, my thumbs moved.

I know, I typed.

I looked at it for a long time.

I sent it.