Page 183 of A Little Broken

“Come on, slow poke.”

“But what about Berlin?” I motion to the windows lining the walls giving us a gorgeous view of a country I’ve never visited until now.

“We’ll see the sights when we get back. Come on,” he repeats. “If we miss the train, we’re screwed.”

“And where is the train taking us?” I ask.

“Halberstadt.”

The name makes me pause. Halberstadt? Why does that sound so familiar? Before I have a chance to question him on it, Pax tugs my hand again, and I pick up my pace.

Halberstadt, it is.

It’sa four hour train ride, but I soak up every second. Peering out the window, I take in the different shades of green covering the hills and the gray and sand-colored cobblestones lining the roads. By the time the diesel engine pulls up to the station, I’mlike a full sponge, practically brimming with excitement and awe. We’ve traveled quite a bit over the last year, and it’s been nothing short of incredible.

There are a lot of perks to loving a rockstar who’s also obsessed with travel, and a surprise trip for my birthday is definitely one of them. After arriving, Pax arranges for a car to take us to an adorable bed-and-breakfast with a red door and poppies planted out front.

“This place is gorgeous,” I gush as the driver opens the back door and the gentle breeze hits my cheeks.

Lacing our fingers together, Pax lifts my hand, bringing it to his lips. “Thought you might like it. Welcome to Halberstadt.”

Halberstadt. There’s that name again.

Then I hear it. The low hum of an organ. It’s the same note, er,notes. Like a single chord being dragged out to infinity.

It can’t be.

Tilting my head, I shift my attention from Pax to the cozy bed-and-breakfast, to the small church across the street. It isn’t anything spectacular to look at, if I’m being honest. Hell, it blends in with the rest of the landscape. Sandy gray stone. Arched windows. Humble, almost. It only makes the avalanche of awe rush over me more.

“The song,” I whisper. Turning back to Pax, my lips parting, I ask, “How did you…”

“They’re changing the chord in a few hours. Figured we could check in to the bed-and-breakfast, maybe unpack, then head?—”

I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him as hard as I can, caught off guard by the building pressure behind my eyes. This man. How in the world is this man so freaking sweet?

When my heels touch the ground and he pulls away, finding my eyes red, he says, “Seems Squeaks is rubbing off on you.”

I sniff, pressing my finger against the corner of my eye in hopes of warding off a sobfest. “Apparently.”

“So, how do you feel about it?”

With a mock glare, I wipe beneath my nose. “Not great, thank you very much.”

He laughs. “I meant being here, not turning into Squeaks.”

“Oh.” I sniff again. “It’s perfect, and you’re perfect, and…” I exhale slowly. “And we should go inside.”

“I like your thinking.” Pax tosses his arm around my shoulders and guides me into the bed-and-breakfast. It’s cozy and cool and homey and…absolutely perfect. Once we’re settled into our room, Pax opens a bottle of wine, pours me a glass, and hands it to me as we sit on the terrace overlooking St. Burchardi Church. The same familiar hum of the organ plays as we sip our drinks until the bottle is empty and a timer on Paxton’s phone rings from the bedroom.

“It’s time,” he murmurs. “Come on.”

It’s beautiful in its simplicity. The church. And busy. The stone archways almost give the place a castle-like feel straight out of a fairytale with warm stained wooden beams along the tall ceiling. It’s the perfect church for a quaint, small town like this one. A simple organ of rich wood and tall pipes stands roped off near the back of the building. It’s smaller than I expected. The realization intrigues even more, calling to me like a homing beacon. I move through the crowd, my fingers threaded with Paxton’s until we reach a small open space near the front.

“Sorry, it’s so busy,” Pax mutters. “I debated on bringing you when they weren’t changing the pipes, so it would be a little calmer, but?—”

“It’s perfect.”

His brows dip in concern. “You sure?”

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