Page 123 of A Little Broken

As I push the passenger door open, a warm breeze carries the scent of the ocean with it. I pause, breathing it in.

Safe.

I’m grateful Rory didn’t push me on it. Make me question my sanity for being here when it’s clear Paxton’s holding it captive. Yup. He probably has a jar with a label on it and everything. Tatum’s Sanity. It’s tucked right between Tatum’s Curiosity and Tatum’s Libido, because he sure as hell owns those, too, after all our steamy encounters over the years.

Honestly, it isn’t even fair at this point. How he’s managed to consume so much of my time, my thoughts, my everything since the moment we first met. It doesn’t make this less scary, though. If anything, it makes me more anxious.

The last time I was at Paxton’s, I woke up in his bed with my makeup a mess and the taste of vomit in my mouth. Yeah, not so great. My fight or flight instinct rears its ugly head at the memory, and Rory grabs onto my arm, reading me way too easily.

“Come on, scaredy cat. I’m sure Pax doesn’t bite,” she says. I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me off. “Nope. I don’t wanna know.” Once we reach Paxton’s porch, Rory lifts her free hand to knock when the front door opens, revealing Dodger.

“Hey, Squeaks.” His attention shifts to me. “Tatum.”

“Hi?” I reply.

What’s he doing here?

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to ruin your fun,” he jokes. “I actually only stopped by to say hi to some friends, but I’m about to head out. Perfect timing, though. They’re about to start playing.”

“They?”

“You’ll see,” he replies. “And before you yell at Pax for inviting anyone else, it wasn’t his idea. It’s just the way things worked out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some nephews to strangle.” He gives us a mock salute, slips out the door, and jogs down the short set of stairs, reaching a parked motorcycle.

Funny. I thought it was Pax’s.

“Well, on that note.” Rory tilts her head toward the still open doorway to Paxton’s home. “Should we…walk in?”

With a shrug, I tug Rory with me as we make our way inside. The place is cleaner than the last time I was here. Like, a lot cleaner. And since I’m his cleaning lady, I can’t decide if I’m offended or impressed that he found someone on such shortnotice. Am I finally out of a job? That kind of sucks. But also, the state of this house after being jam-packed with a shit-ton of drunk people was disgusting, and I’m kind of glad I didn’t have to deal with it.

As we make our way toward the back of the home and down the stairs leading to the walkout basement, I notice a soft melody in the distance.

“What is that?” I whisper.

Rory’s shoulders lift, and we follow the sound past the theater room to the large glass doors.

They’re left open, creating a large, open space from the hardwood floors to the open beach. The song is louder now. It’s an acoustic version of one of my favorite songs.

“Come on,” Rory urges, her curiosity matching my own.

My hair blows in the gentle sea breeze as we step over the threshold onto the back patio. The jacuzzi is open but empty, its steam swirling in the air. We move around it, the familiar melody spurring us on.

Seriously, where is everyone?

Lanterns hang on black poles, creating a path for us to follow. Reaching down, Rory takes her shoes off, so I do the same, letting the warm sand slip between my toes. When the bonfire comes into view, my forehead wrinkles as I stand on my tiptoes, trying to catch a better glimpse of the shadows surrounding it.

The fire casts a glow on Paxton sitting to one side with a guitar in his lap. Next to him is a man with a small drum, and on his opposite side is?—

“No freaking way,” Rory mutters under her breath. Turning to me, she adds, “Did you know about this?”

“How would I have known?”

“I don’t know? But this?” She smiles. “Damn, Tate. Pax wants you bad.” She tugs my arm again, and I force my legs to move asCooper, the lead singer of Doomsday, begins the chorus of one of their biggest hits.

It’s…insane. And over the top. And probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m not sure whether to sneak around the side to listen from afar so I don’t interrupt the coolest thing I’ve experienced or traipse right up to the small group of spectators and pop a squat right next to the freaking singer of Doomsday.

Like, holy shit, Batman.

“So, are we going or what?” Rory whispers.

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