Page 126 of A Little Broken

I stare at his outstretched hand, my tongue growing to three times its normal size. Do I want his help? I mean, if anyone else had asked, I’d for sure say no, but Arch? Arch is different. He’s always been so…nice, and when I’m with him, my palms sweat, and my head gets dizzy, and… I gulp, shaking my head again.

“You sure?” he asks.

My vocal cords refuse to work, so I nod instead, watching as he raises his offered hand and squeezes the back of his neck. “All right. Well, if you need me to beat up my brother for you, let me know, okay?”

Like a stupid bobble head, I nod again, and off he goes, catching up with his brother who’s pulling Lia’s pigtails.

The memory vanishes, dissipating as quickly as it hit, and I suck my lips into my mouth. Would things have been different if I’d taken Archer’s hand that day? We were kids, and I know it didn’t mean anything on his end, but still. What if…what if?—

“Hey, you good?” Pax murmurs.

Forcing myself to breathe, I peek up at him. The softness in his gaze. The reassurance shining in his eyes. The easy stance. Like we have all the time in the world to stand on the beach while I debate whether or not I want to hold his hand. And the truth is, I’ve never held a guy’s hand before. I’ve kissed countless guys, slept with plenty, but hand-holding? He’s my first, and part of me wonders if he knows it, too.

My lungs deflate on a slow, controlled breath before I give in, praying he can’t feel the slight tremble in my fingers. If he can, he doesn’t say anything. He simply gives me a soft squeeze. His hand is warm and rough and way more comforting than any touch has a right to be. I like it, though. I like it a lot.

Lacing our fingers, he murmurs, “Come on,” and guides me through the small throng of people. Each of them takes a turntelling him how freaking amazing his performance was, and Pax smiles at each of them, running his free hand over his shaggy head, squeezing the back of his neck, accepting their compliments with humility and grace and a confidence I can’t help but find hella attractive.

When we finally reach the bonfire, Pax takes a deep breath and looks down at me, his forehead wrinkling with concern.

“Is there a problem?” I ask.

“I’m second-guessing this decision.”

“What decision?”

“The whole…introduction part.”

I laugh, surprised by his sudden change of tune. “Hey, no take backs. I thought you wanted a do-over.”

“I do want a do-over,” he says with a huff. “Just not at the expense of…”

“Of?” I prod.

He stays quiet, eyeing me warily.

“Oh, come on,” I push. “You were doing so well. Besides, you’ve already come this far. Might as well hold up your end of the deal and introduce me, right?”

“Yeah, there’s only one problem.”

“What’s the problem?” I ask.

“Coop’s a flirt.”

I smirk. “So?”

“So, he’s a flirt, and I’m willingly introducing him to a girl who isn’t mine. Does that sound like a bright idea to you?”

I don’t bother answering because he saidmine.The four letter word makes my breath catch, and I replay his statement one more time.Mine.Before, I would’ve run the opposite direction from a trigger like that. Now, though? Now, it only feeds my interest. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’m ready to give myself to the guy or whatever, but…is that what he reallywants? Me? In all my messy glory and with all my fucked-up baggage?

I’ve had guys want me before, but none of them knew…everything. None of them knew anything. The difference is staggering, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

When I realize he’s staring at me, a question shining in his pretty espresso eyes, I push aside my inner spiral and try to focus on our conversation. What did he say again?

I’m willingly introducing him to a girl who isn’t mine.

Right.

“So?” I repeat.

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