The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(76)

She kissed my forehead and shifted off my bed. “Any time.”

I needed to make a plan to get my life back.





Chapter Twenty-Seven


Lainey Taylor Rule of Life #99

Gossip shows can be very educational.

“Do you want something to drink?” I asked. Anything to keep busy while Mom was strapped to the machine.

“Kid, if you keep loading me up on drinks, I’m going to have coffee coming out of my eyeballs.”

“Sorry.”

She skimmed her hand over my cheek, and a calm smile creased the corner of her lips. “Hey, I know this is all new to you, but I’ve been around the block a few times with this. I appreciate it, though.”

I nodded, frowning. She’d done this alone for months and every ounce of my coffee-flooded neurons felt like crap about it. “I wish I could have been with you for all of them. I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Honey, I didn’t raise you to be sorry for everything. The only time you have to apologize is if you’re the first one up in the morning and you don’t make any coffee.”

She pulled me into a hug, and I wrapped my arm around her, avoiding the IV hooked to her arm. Her very last treatment. This nightmare was finally going to be over, and she could finally start to heal. Even if I didn’t have my dream job anymore, I had what counted most—my family.

Which reminded me—since I didn’t have a high-paying job anymore, I needed to reduce the payments to the hospital. It’d be much easier to do in person than over the phone.

“I’ll be right back.” I untangled myself from my mom’s embrace and stood.

Mom lifted up the arm hooked to her chemo meds. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I walked down the corridor until I found the accounts office. A woman wearing a black pashmina sat behind the desk, taking a sip from a mug that said, “My book boyfriend’s better than yours.” Unless that book boyfriend was Mr. Darcy, she was probably wrong, but now wasn’t really the time to tell her this.

“Can I help you?” She put the mug down and typed something into her computer.

“I’d like to change the payment options for my mother’s account.”

She looked up, bored. “Name.”

I gave her my mother’s name, and she typed a few more things on her keyboard. Her brows furrowed as she scrolled her finger over the toggle button on her computer mouse. “The account looks like it was paid in full.”

I froze. Could a miracle have happened? A mistake? A computer glitch? “Excuse me?”

“The account is closed,” she repeated, fidgeting with her scarf.

I leaned my elbows on the counter and held my head between my hands, staring down at her. How could this be? “As of when?”

She squinted at the screen and hummed under her breath as she scrolled through the account. As soon as she found the information, she stopped the tune and looked up at me. “Yesterday.”

“That’s impossible. We owed…” A shit ton of money. “A lot.”

“It was paid in one large sum yesterday.”

“Can you tell me who paid it?” Who the hell would pay Mom’s medical bills? The only explanation I could think of, with a glimmer of hope, was that my father had grown a conscience and stepped up to cover the costs. But that was about as likely as the damn bill being paid in the first place.

“It doesn’t say on the account, sorry.”

I looked around her desk, leaning over to check for camera crews or a television host that said this was all a big joke. “You’re sure I’m not being punked?”

She shot me a look, and I could tell this conversation was getting a little old on her end, but I just couldn’t let it go. Who could have paid off that sum of money? And why?

It was over. No more Tastytarts. No more ban from online shopping—well, maybe until I got a job. No more…bills. The suffocating weight of debt lifted for the first time in a year, and tears streamed down my face. We were free to live our lives how we wanted, not having to worry about enormous payments. My life could go back to normal. I could get a shit job up in Seattle and worry about which purse I should waste my paycheck on. We were going to make it through this.

I walked back into the room where Mom was watching CGC—a show that discussed all the latest celebrity scandals. Her eyes fluttered shut as the chemo treatment was being administered. I leaned against the doorframe and watched her, hope bubbling up over the rest of my jumbled feelings.

“We don’t have to worry about hospital bills anymore.” My voice was thick. Whoever did this, I wish I knew who it was so I could thank them. This wasn’t a simple act of charity like dropping lightly used clothes off at the Goodwill. This was something I’d never be able to repay, not in this decade, at least.

Her eyes flew open. “What do you mean?”

I cleared my throat and fidgeted. “Someone’s paid the medical bills?” Even I didn’t quite believe it yet.

She shook her head and her expression matched what I felt—shock. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, but right now I don’t care. As soon as you’re feeling hungry again, we’re having a junk food movie marathon.”

“Deal.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back and smiled. Even during these horrid treatments, she was a warrior. If I turned out with even a tenth of my mom’s strength, I’d hit the jackpot.