Page 158 of A Little Broken

She raises her hand. “Stop.”

“Tatum—”

“I said, stop,” she repeats.

My stomach clenches, and I fight the urge to rush toward her. To pull her close and to apologize and to do anything I can to erase the haunted look in her eyes and the hurt I know is there. But I don’t. Instead I stand there. Helpless.

“Tatum,” I murmur. My tone is softer now as I clench my hands at my sides to keep from reaching for her.

“Answer my question.” She looks…numb. Her throat constricts on a swallow before she repeats, “What are you doing?”

My attention falls to the worn black notebook. “Invading your privacy,” I answer. “And betraying your trust.”

I’m not sure what else she was expecting me to say, but her brows raise. “Well, at least you're honest.” She folds her arms. Not angrily. More in an attempt to keep her from falling apart. It only kills me more. “Want to tell me why?” she asks.

“It was an accident.” I scrub my hand over my face. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth.”

“We’ve already established you’re not a liar.” She sucks her lip into her mouth, but I don’t miss the way it trembles before her attention falls on the journal. “What did you…” Her fingernails dig into the fabric of the hoodie covering her arms as she shifts back on her heels. “What did you read?”

Fuck.

She looks petrified. Like she’s seen a ghost. I wipe my hands along my jeans, caught between a rock and a hard place. I want to fix this. I need to fix this. But how? What do I say? How do I tell her that I impulsively, and a hundred percent accidentally, stole a piece of her. A piece she may or may not have beenwilling to give. Scratch that. A piece shewasn’twilling to give. If she was, she would’ve told me herself. Instead, I took the opportunity from her, and she’ll never get it back.

How do I fix this?!

“I, uh,” I take a slow step toward her, anxious to fix this. To erase the tension in her body. The fear and unease radiating from her. “I read about a girl in love.”

Something flashes in her eyes, but she doesn’t look at me, choosing to stare at the notebook instead. “I told you I was taken.”

“I know,” I rasp. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “For getting caught?”

“For invading your privacy and betraying your trust despite it being an accident.”

A sheen hits her pretty gaze as she forces a smile, holding my stare and breaking my heart in the process. “You’re, uh, don’t mention it.” She lifts a shoulder, her sad, broken smile never moving, while looking more guarded than I’ve ever seen. “And I mean that literally,” she adds.

Forcing my movements to stay slow and controlled, I move toward her, one step at a time. I want to run. I want to tug her into me and never let go. But the same fear as before—the fear I’ve been carrying since the moment she broke down in my bathroom all those nights ago—holds me back, so I keep my pace in check. When I reach her, I lift my hands, leaving an inch of space between her and my touch as I inspect her expression, searching for any clue or hint telling me she wants me to stop. Surprisingly, I don’t find it. The realization hits harder than I expect, and I cup her face. Carefully. Slowly. Hell, it’s barely a touch, but it’s enough. Enough to give me hope. That I didn’t fuck this up beyond repair. That she’s still here. Still willing to talk this out. To let me fix this.

“Tatum, I’m sorry,” I rasp.

She doesn’t look at me, choosing to focus on the logo printed across my T-shirt instead. “You already mentioned that.”

“About Archer,” I clarify. “I can be sorry for more than one thing.”

“You already mentioned being sorry about Archer, too, remember?”

“The night you stayed over.” I nod. “I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders sag. “What for this time?”

“For making you feel guilty.”

She rolls her watery eyes, choosing to stare at my chin instead of meeting my eyes, but it’s closer to the target, so I count it as a win. For now. Even though it kills me.

“Who says I was writing about you?” she whispers.

A low, sad laugh escapes me, and I pull her into a hug, gently caressing her back as I rest my cheek against the top of her head. “You’re right. No need to make my head any bigger.”

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