Page 18 of Broken Instrument

Her neck snaps toward me. “Ew.”

“Just sayin’,” I start, but she cuts me off by shoving open the passenger door and unfolding herself from my car, slamming it behind her.

Puffing out my cheeks, I do the same, the warm morning air grounding me as I lock the car and head to Fender and Pixie.

“You’re the niece?” Fender asks Mia as she approaches them.

She smiles sweetly and replies, “The one and only,” as she squats down and scratches Pixie’s ears. The dog wiggles its massive butt back and forth excitedly.

Without waiting for an invitation, she takes the black leather leash from Fender’s grip, pushes to her feet, and announces, “We’re going for a run. Be back in an hour.”

“An hour?” Fender chokes out.

“Yup. Come on, Pix.” Mia takes off running down the black asphalt path, and Pixie follows behind.

He looks at me with wide eyes. “She seems…nice?”

“She’s something,” I mutter under my breath. My gaze stays glued to my niece and her favorite creature on the planet as they shrink in the distance. A soft sigh escapes me.

An hour. I have an hour to talk to a stranger. Okay, maybe stranger is a harsh term. I glance over at him, trying to be inconspicuous. Acquaintance? Yeah. That’s more fitting, I guess. Doesn’t change the fact I have an hour to kill with the guy.

Which is juuuust great for my introverted brain.

Thanks a lot, Mia.

“Soooo,” I start, dragging out the word as I fold my arms and peek over at the guy beside me. Again. His stubbled jaw and soft blonde wavy hair are a sexy combination. Effortless somehow. Like he woke up looking this good.

Of course, he did.

“Kind of assumed you meant a little kid when you said niece,” he notes, tilting his head toward the receding girl in question. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Not that old,” I counter. “And rude.”

He chuckles, looking sheepish. “I wasn’t trying to be. But she must look old for her age, and you must look hella young for it. There can’t be what? More than three years between you two?”

“Six, actually. I was an oops baby, and so was Mia. I guess we’re kindred spirits on that front, but I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing we have in common.”

He rocks back on his heels and tucks his hands into his pockets as he tears his gaze away from the horizon and turns to me. “Noted.”

“Thanks for meeting us, though. It means a lot to Mia.”

“No problem. How’s she doing?”

“Mia?” My face scrunches, surprised by his curiosity.

“Yeah. With her dad missing and all…” His voice trails off, leaving me the uncomfortable task of filling the silence with a truth far too heavy for a Saturday morning. To be fair, we have an hour to kill, and it’s not like we have anything else to talk about.

“Honestly? Not so great. Or at least, I’m assuming, since she hasn’t been talking much to…anyone?” I realize aloud. “She and her mom are in a fight because she got caught sneaking out of her house the night before she was supposed to stay with me. So now, her phone’s been taken away, and she’s stuck with one of her least favorite people on the planet with no outside communication.”

“Least favorite?” he prods, those navy molten depths wreaking havoc on my insides as he studies me curiously.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and fold my arms. “Something like that. Although it’s hard not to be her least favorite person when we’re so close in age, and her lack of respect is infuriating. It doesn’t help that we rarely see each other unless her dad’s on a bender, and her mom needs someone to keep an eye on her, even though Mia’s adamant she can take care of herself. Which I would believe if it weren't for how freaking irresponsible she is sometimes. I swear. She's taking right after her father, and we all know how he turned out. And then, I have to figure out how to balance being the aunt, the friend, and the responsible adult without overstepping my bounds while shouldering the blame every time I fall short.” I take a deep breath, surprised by my own bout of word vomit I just spilled all over an innocent Saturday morning conversation as I puff out my cheeks and mutter, “It’s…exhausting.”

“Sounds exhausting,” he notes, his expression unreadable.

“You have no idea.” I shake my head. “Especially when I never signed up for it in the first place.”

His forehead wrinkles, finally showing a crack in his cool demeanor. He cocks his head to one side and faces me fully. “You sound a little resentful.”

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