Page 110 of A Little Broken

She smiles around her bite before wiping some excess schmear from the corner of her mouth. “I’m impressed you remember that little tidbit.” Her gaze flickers to the calm water. “You got the ocean part right, though.”

“Glad you approve,” I return.

“I do.” She pauses to squish her bare toes in the sand. As soon as we got here, she left her shoes by a random log, so I did thesame. It’s been nice. Going slow. Enjoying our morning. Walking lazily down the coast. It’s been really nice, and I wonder if she’s liked it, too.

“So,” she continues, “after my little mental breakdown last night, I think you owe me.”

“Oh, I do?”

“Yup.”

“I did buy you a bagel,” I point out.

“I meant you owe me information,” she clarifies.

“Such as?”

“Let’s see…” She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “For starters, what brought you here?”

“Here?” I look around the empty beach, grateful there isn’t another soul in sight, thanks to owning most of it.

“I mean to Harden Heights,” she clarifies. “If you’re not close with your band, why’d you decide to settle here while you wait for the band’s hiatus to end?”

With a shrug, I take another bite of bagel and draw a smiley face in the sand with my big toe. “I’m from here.”

Her jaw drops in surprise. “Seriously?”

“About thirty minutes south,” I explain. “I grew up in The Drift.”

“What’s The Drift?”

My head snaps up. “Fuck, you’re really not from around here, are you?”

“Not even close.”

“The Drift is a strip of land where all the poor people live. It isn’t close to the water or the country clubs or the university. It’s where the lackeys and blue-collar folk stay. It’s also where the drugs are, and the gangs are, and every other…potentially unsavory class of individuals likes to congregate.”

“Congregate, huh?” She smiles, kicking a bit of sand toward me. “You sound like a textbook.”

“You’re the one needing a geography lesson,” I return dryly.

She smirks. “Okay, so if you’re from here, what’s the rest of the band’s excuse?”

“Where Judge goes, Dodger goes, and Judge is from here, too.”

Surprised, she asks, “He’s from The Drift?”

“Nah, he’s from the rich side of town. His family founded the university and basically owns the entire place.”

“Really?” She takes the last bite of bagel, then licks the excess cream cheese from her thumb. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t really know the guy, but he kind of puts off more of a Drift vibe.”

I chuckle softly, knowing she’s not wrong. “That’s ‘cause he hates his family.”

“Aw, noted.” She taps her forefinger against her temple. “So why did you all come back?”

It’s a difficult question, and I hesitate before answering. Not because I don't trust her, but because I know the guys like to keep things close to the chest, and whatever’s going on with Judge’s family is making him even more guarded than usual.

“It’s complicated,” I finally admit.

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