Page 71 of Bought and Broken

“Thanks,” she grumbles.

“You can’t be good at everything, Devon.”

“Yeah, yeah…” She walks ahead of me, her eyes homing in on a Metallica pinball machine by the front door. Glancing over her shoulder she adds, “I’m going to beat you in this at least.”

And she’s probably right. Because I suck at pinball and that’s fine with me.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Devon

After the arcade, it’s still early so we catch a ride to the river walk. There’s an ice cream truck, so we make a quick stop because I beg Tatum for ice cream and he can’t say no. Honestly, he hasn’t said no to me about anything all week. Whatever I want to do, we do it.

It’s windy by the water, a little chilly, but nice. I truly love being by the water, and I think that’s why I finally made my decision about where I want to go. Problem is the more time I spend with the Tate, the less I want to leave. He makes me want to stay—which I knew would happen. It’s why I was supposed to tell him I was leaving; why I needed to put distance between us.

But I couldn’t.

If things could be like this between us all the time, it would be perfect.

Moving away isn’t just about Tate though. It’s about my family and the way they look at me; the way they treat me. What will it take to prove to them that I can take care of myself? That I don’t need to be watched like a toddler? That even though I am enjoying being with Tate, I don’t need him to babysit me. And how fair is it that Tate is lying to them? Sort of, anyway. He isn’t being truthful, if he’s told them anything.

“Do you feel bad lying to my brother about us?” I ask as we reach the concrete pyramid and sit on the second step.

“I don’t see it as lying since they haven’t asked.”

“But we’re keeping it from him.”

“Not telling him isn’t lying, Devon.”

“Sounds like an excuse to make lying okay.”

He sighs, scooting closer and putting his arm around me.

“I don’t want to keep this from Dane. He’s my best friend. Your brother. But we don’t even know what we’re doing yet, so why tell him if…”

“If it doesn’t work?” I ask, finishing his sentence.

He shrugs.

“Do you think it could?” I ask. “Do you think we could be something?” I’m hopeful as I wait for him to answer. If he said yes, would I stay? If he says no, how much will it hurt?

What do I want him to say?

“Things are simple right now because there are no expectations. If we were to put a name on this, make it more serious, we’d have a lot of things to talk about first. We can’t act like our past didn’t happen.”

My stomach drops.

He’s right.

There’s me wanting us to live in that bubble again. Where everything is safe and nice. Where neither of us gets hurt.

Our past is still our past, and though we can ignore it now, how long is that going to last?

“Real world sucks,” I mutter.

“It’s not so bad,” Tate says, jerking his chin toward the Ambassador Bridge.

I glance up, pulling my attention from my ice cream. The sun is setting, and it’s beautiful as always. There isn't a clear view, like in some other places, but the sky is still pretty.

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