Page 87 of Broken Instrument

“Hawthorne told me last night. After the show,” I clarify. “You’re gonna need a laptop so you can write while you come with me.”

“Come with you?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you said you wanted us to move in together?”

“This would be our home base. For now. Until we decide to get our own place.”

She shakes her head, dizzy from all the information I’m tossing her way as she asks, “And people are okay with it? Me just…tagging along?”

“I’m the head of the band, Hads. It’s my music. My lyrics. And Hawthorne knows you. He knows what you mean to me. So, yeah. They’re good with you tagging along.”

“But what about my editor, and––”

“I told you to get ready so we can buy you a laptop,” I remind her, smacking her ass. “You think I’m gonna let you give up on your dream so you can let me chase mine?”

With her lips pulled between her teeth, she shakes her head back and forth again, arguing, “What about Pix?”

“Pixie will be on stage with me for every concert unless you get bored and decide you want to write on the bus instead. Then, she’ll go with you.”

I can practically see her mind spinning as she processes everything I just threw at her. But the more I brainstorm, the more right this feels. She needs a distraction. She needs a fresh start. She needs a reason to get up in the morning, and this could be the perfect opportunity.

Digging her teeth into her lower lip, she mutters, “You’re crazy. You know that, right?”

“I’m crazy about you.” I kiss her forehead again. “Even when you’re broken.”

Her smile softens.

“Promise me something, though,” I plead.

“What?”

“Promise you’ll let me fix you the same you fixed me. Not today or tomorrow.” I tuck her hair behind her ear, and she leans into my touch, closing her eyes and letting out a slow, shuddered breath. “But one day,” I finish.

Blinking back tears, she nods against my palm. “I think you’re already halfway there, Fen.”

And even though it kills me to see her hurting, witnessing her watery smile gives me a spark of hope.

It’s a start.

30

HADLEY

With my phone pressed between my shoulder and ear, I tell Isabella, “I know it’s short notice, but with everything else going on, I think it would be good for me to have some space, ya know?”

“Trust me. I get it,” she returns. “If I could run away, you know I would.”

“I’m not running––”

“I know you’re not. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m still trying to find a new normal for Mia. She’s going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss her too,” I admit as I open the duffle bag and start packing a few of my things. We leave for Denver tomorrow night, but I figure staying ahead of the game and getting a few things done now might be a good idea.

“You know she’s welcome to fly out and visit for a show or two,” I add.

“Depends on how she handles the next few weeks. Despite the asshole being arrested, Mia hasn’t been sleeping. She’s in my bed most nights crying herself to sleep.”

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