Page 115 of Bought and Broken

He’s been stalking me for three days. Well, three days that I know of. Who knows how long it’s really been? He broke into my house. Went through my things. Touched my sex toys!

Tatum holds my gaze for a long moment. My heart is pounding. My chest aches. I can’t breathe. What is he going to do? I don’t know if I should be scared of him or not. Did he finally snap? Or is he fucking with me?

Just as panic has me feeling like I’m going to pass out, his face falls and he lets out a sigh.

“You’re right,” he says quietly.

“Wh-what?” I mutter.

“You’re right, Devon. I would never do that to you.”

“Then why—why did you do this?”

“Which part?” He smirks.

“Why are you smirking like that?” I shove his chest, this time using the wall to help me, and he stumbles back. “This isn’t funny!”

“No?” he questions, that smirk still on his face.

“I was scared.”

“So, you lied then?”

“No, but… I don’t know!” I run my hands through my hair and go to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, then fix my hair. I throw it up into a messy bun because I feel like I’m having a damn hot flash!

When I go back into my bedroom, Tate is standing there, staring at my bed.

“What is actually wrong with you?” I shout, still pissed about what he did. In fact, I’m even more angry now than I was before. How dare he break into my house and scare me like that?

He doesn’t look at me, just keeps staring at the bed. His gaze lifts, and he looks around the room, taking it all in. Slowly, his eyes go from the bed to the curtains. The pictures on the walls, my dresser, the bathroom.

Then they land on me.

He shakes his head, giving a little shrug.

“I missed you,” he says, looking absolutely devastated.

“Tate—”

“I missed you so goddamn much.” He’s in front of me in three long strides, his hands cupping my cheeks. “I am so in love with you, it’s sick. I miss you. I love you. I am so sorry. I fucked up. I ruined us. This is all my fault, and you didn’t deserve even an ounce of what I did to you.”

A lump forms in my throat. “I want to believe you,” I say, my voice trembling.

“Then believe me, Devon. Because it’s the truth. And I will spend every day of the rest of my life proving it to you.”

He searches my eyes, his so full of sadness. Yet there’s determination there too.

“You can’t just come back here and expect me to forget everything.”

“I haven’t.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I deserve it.”

“But I missed you,” I say on a sob. “I hate how much I’ve missed you.”

He pulls me to his chest, wrapping me in his arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. So fucking sorry.”

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