Page 114 of A Little Broken

“Keep ‘em closed,” Tatum warns.

My muscles relax as I rest the back of my head against the sand. Okay, I’m gonna be okay. It’s getting better. I can breathe.

A few seconds later, Tatum announces, “Okay, you can open.”

Uncovering my eyes, I lift my head again, finding a fully-clothed Tatum a good five feet away.

Arms crossed, she stares down at the sand, refusing to look at me with a blush on her cheeks making her look fucking gorgeous. I’ve never seen Tatum shy before. Even when she was puking in front of me and drunk off her ass, she wasn’t shy. But this? This is something for the books, and I clench my fists to keep from reaching out and tugging her into a bear hug.

Shifting her attention to the blue sky above us, she mumbles, “How’s it, uh, how’s it feel? Better?”

With another low laugh, I roll to my knees and push myself to my feet before cautiously approaching her. “I’m good. Areyou?”

“Yup. Happy as a clam.” She motions to the water, still refusing to look at me. “Now, go…wash off or whatever, and never—I meannever—mention this to anyone ever again. We clear?”

I splash in the water, letting it reach my knees and thoroughly cleaning off every possible droplet of…nope. Not gonna think about it. “Thanks again, Tate, I?—”

“I said don’t mention it,” she snaps.

She covers her eyes like a little kid during a scary movie. It’s adorable and strangely…vulnerable, proving she wouldn’t pee on just anyone. The reminder I was the lucky one she helped is enough to wash away whatever lingering embarrassment is still clinging to the moment because yeah, writhing on the ground like a baby is not the impression I wanted to leave this girl with.

Jogging toward a still motionless Tatum, I grab her hands from her face and lower them, forcing her to look at me. “I owe you.”

“You don’t-–”

“Not gonna pee on you,” I clarify.

“Pax,” she groans, shying away from my touch, but I hold firm. When she realizes I’m not letting her get away, she sags a little more and grumbles, “I told you not to?—”

“Thank you.” I kiss her forehead. “Thank you for taking one for the team.” I bend closer and kiss her pretty little scowl. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Swatting my kisses away, she peeks up at me with the cutest fucking scowl I’ve ever seen. “You’re welcome.”

Fuck, she’s pretty like this. She’s pretty all the time, but like this? Peeking up at me through her lashes, the tinge of pink stillresting on her cheeks? A glint of curiosity in her pretty gaze? It’s enough to make me kiss her again. And without the teasing. Because I want to. Because I’m stupid enough to hope I can get away with it.

I close some of the distance between us, my fingers itching to wrap around her waist so I can seal the deal when Tatum’s phone buzzes. She takes it out of her pocket, dousing what’s left of our chemistry just as quickly. I can’t help but wonder if it’s her sister again. If she’s going to say something to cause Tatum to spiral again. If all the work I’ve put into making her smile today will be erased with a single message. Fuck, I hope not.

Helpless, I watch as she checks her phone. Her brows are pulled low and her mouth moves as she reads whatever she’s looking at, but I’m still left in the dark, and I don’t like it.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Rory responded.” Her fingers fly across the screen. “Said she could meet me at Grinds in thirty minutes.”

Disappointment flares in my chest, but I ignore it. “Want me to drop you off?”

Looking up from her screen, she gives me a glimpse of her indecision before she nods softly. “Yes, please.”

I guess that’s that.

33

TATUM

Ishouldn’t be nervous, but I am. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I give myself a quick pep talk and open the door to Grinds. After Rory texted, Pax stopped by my apartment so I could change before dropping me off at the coffee shop, yet again proving he’s way sweeter than his rockstar persona leads people to think he is. Paxton’s been different this morning, but I don’t hate it. And I don’t feel like I’m being pitied, either. That’s the weird part. Whenever people find out I’m damaged goods, they think treating me with kid gloves is the safest route. It only pisses me off more. But, Pax? He’s been himself, only the…softer, less guarded version. Then again, so have I. Maybe it’s because we’re more similar than I realized. I mean, talk about some heavy baggage. His mom committed suicide after he refused to give her money? That’s…rough. Really rough. It only impresses me more. I had fun with him this morning. More fun than I want to admit, if I’m being honest with myself, but I refuse to taint the experience by overthinking shit. Not after my night from hell.

Speaking of which, where is my best friend?

The nutty scent of coffee wraps around me like a hug as I search the small shop for Rory. After begging her to meet withme, she said she’d be at Grinds for the next hour or so, and if I felt like stopping by, she’d allow it. It’s pretty much the only invitation I would’ve expected after the things I said to her yesterday.

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