Page 87 of Bought and Broken

She smirks. “So, you’re not as cold-hearted as you make the world believe?”

I smile, moving to sit beside her. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Huffing out a humorless laugh, she asks, “Have you talked to Dane?”

I shake my head. “I’m sure he’ll call. I won’t answer if you don’t want me to.”

“You should. He needs a friend right now, and I can’t be there for him. Not yet.”

I take her hand, linking our fingers together.

“I don’t think he meant to hurt you. You know that, right?”

“I’m pretty sure lies aren’t meant to hurt anyone, but they always do.” Ain’t that the truth. She gestures to her bag with her hand. “Did you pack me comfy clothes?”

“Not a clue what I tossed in there. If you want something comfortable, I can give you mine.”

“Yes, please.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

I find a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt in my dresser that I give her. As she changes, I pull out a pair for myself and change too. After that, we head downstairs to the kitchen. I pull the stack of takeout menus from the drawer and hand them to Devon as I get us each a bottle of water. The house isn’t stocked with food, but I make sure there is always water in the fridge for when the cleaning service comes weekly. If they didn’t come, I’d likely have animals taking up residence here.

Devon hands me a menu. “How did I know?” I say with a smirk.

I knew she’d pick pizza.

“Who wouldn’t pick pizza?”

“Many people, actually.”

“Well, they’re all crazy.”

“I’ll order this on one condition,” I say, holding the menu up.

“What’s that?”

I pull her to me, burying my face in her neck. “I get you for dessert.”

She giggles, and it’s the sweetest sound. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

An hour later, we’re sitting on the floor in the TV room, our backs to the couch, the TV on, and the pizza box between us.

Devon chose White Chicks because it’s one of her favorite comedy movies. It has her laughing less than ten minutes in. I watch the movie, but I find myself watching her more. I hate being here, but she’s happy and content and that’s all I care about.

When we’re finished eating—half the pizza gone—I bring it to the kitchen. When I get back, Devon is lying on the couch. I lift her feet and sit, resting them on my lap. Her legs are smooth, and she sighs happily when I massage her muscles.

My phone rings, causing us both to look at it.

“It’s Dane,” I say.

“Can you put it on speaker?”

I nod, answering the call and putting it on speaker before I say anything. Devon pauses the movie.

“Hey,” I finally say.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“You’re telling me.”

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