Page 175 of A Little Broken

The idea alone is enough to make me break out in hives. But that’s what a normal couple does, isn’t it? They meet each other’s families. They travel together. They rely on each other.

I could really use him right now.

“Tate?” Lia prods.

“I, uh, I haven’t asked him yet,” I admit.

“Well, you should,” she pushes. “Although you might want to give him a heads up that our family’s a bit overwhelming and will have no problem kicking him to the curb if he ever hurts you.”

My mouth lifts, well-aware she’s not wrong.

“I’ll be sure to pass the info along,” I murmur.

“That’s my baby sister,” she returns. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

50

PAXTON

Checking my phone for the hundredth time since I dropped Tatum off two days ago, I send another text.

Me

Missing you.

I don’t wait to see her response, knowing she won’t reply until she’s ready. But I can’t help myself. It’s taken everything inside of me to keep from barging to her place and beating down the door until she talks to me. Lets me in.

I hold onto the words she spoke before she left, “We’ll be okay,” as I tuck my phone into my saddle bag on my bike and head inside the gate.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now. The barbed wire. The chain link. The buzzing of doors and tedious forms. Once I’ve jumped through the prison’s hoops, a guard leads me to the same room, the same seat, the same phone, and I rest my elbows on the counter, waiting for Rafe to appear.

I’ve debated on whether or not it’s a good idea to come here and air out Roman’s dirty laundry, but after Dodger’s wordsof caution and Roman’s flippant response to Rudy’s death, I couldn’t stay away.

Rafe appears a few minutes later, saying something to the guard before he collapses in the seat across from mine like this is just another day in the life of an inmate. Now that I think about it, I guess it is.

I pick up the phone, and Rafe does the same.

“Hey, man,” he says.

“Hey.”

His brows crease. “What’s wrong?”

I should’ve known he’d call me out as soon as he saw me. Might as well get it over with. “Did you ever hear about Rudy?” I ask. “The guy I replaced in IndieCent Vows?”

“The guitarist?” His forehead wrinkles. “Yeah? What about him?”

“Did you know he was Judge’s friend?” I prod.

Recognition hits his gaze, and he gives me a slow nod. “Yeah, man. I heard. Tough break.”

My eyes cut to the guard as I confirm our conversation is still relatively private. Somewhat satisfied, I dip closer to the glass, dropping my voice low. “You think it was an accident?”

“I think it’s none of my business.” Tilting his head, he shifts the phone to his other ear. “I think it’s none of your business, either.”

“And what about Roman?” I ask. “You think it’s any of his business?”

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