Page 50 of A Little Broken

“I know, but I’m kind of tired, and?—”

“Hey, Baby,” I interrupt.

Baby’s eyes dart to me and widen in surprise. “Uh, what are you…are you…?” She shakes her head. “Uh, hey?”

“Hey,” I repeat, turning to the stranger. “I’m Pax. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” He frowns. “You know, you kind of look familiar…”

“Always had one of those faces,” I agree. “Mind if I steal Baby for a sec?”

“Baby?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Baby rushes out. “Nice talking to you, though.” Threading her arm around my bicep, she smiles up at me, then drags me a dozen feet away from the poor bastard.

“Boyfriend, huh?” I quip.

“Sorry.” She peeks up at me again, her face scrunching. “My friend likes to play my wingwoman even when I tell her I’m not interested in awkward, stilted conversations about the weather, but she’s a terrible listener, so here we are.”

“You know, you could always talk about other things,” I suggest. “Like your favorite band.”

She laughs. “I guess you make a good point. Speaking of favorite bands, what, uh, what are you doing here, and no offense, but how in the world did you remember me?”

Remember her? The entire night is tattooed into my memory despite my best efforts to drown it with alcohol and weed.

Biting back my scoff, I challenge, “You really think I’d forget my favorite baby face?”

She rolls her eyes. “My name’s Rory.”

Trust me, I remember.

I got a fucking earful after I met up with the band all those years ago. Well, Dodger, at least. Judge and Tuke don’t seem like they give two shits about who I sleep with unless it messes with the band. But Dodge? Yeah, he had the obligatory, you hurt her, I kill you speech locked and loaded. Not sure why he cared, but it didn’t matter anyway. Tatum’s the one who fucked with me, not the other way around. I told Dodger I was nothing but a complete gentleman and dropped her back at her hotel after buying her dinner—as a friend. I’m still not sure why I covered for her. Why I didn’t ask Dodger to warn Tatum’s fiance that she’s a cheating bitch, but I couldn’t help myself.

What the hell’s wrong with me?

“Nice to see you again,Rory,” I emphasize. “Speaking of yourfriend…” My gaze flicks over the bonfire and the sea of peoplealong the beach. It’s like some fucked up game of deja vu. But I guess it’s what happens when I’ve caught myself searching the crowd during a show, looking for a familiar face I swore I never wanted to see again. “Is Tate here?”

“Ah, so you rememberTate’sname,” she muses. “Interesting.”

My mouth lifts. “I remembered yours, too.” I look down to catch her analyzing me. Seems her shyness likes to take a backseat as long as she isn’t the center of the conversation. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine?” She hesitates. “Sorry, I’m just…kind of in awe. What are you…what are you doing here? Is Dodge here? Is the band playing here, and I didn’t know?”

“The band’s taking…” My voice trails off when I spot her across the sea of people. Her hair’s longer than before. Her legs look longer, too, if that’s even possible. Tatum fucking Taylor. I wonder if that’s still her last name or if she took her husband’s? The thought alone makes my stomach sour. Throwing her head back, Tatum laughs at whatever the asshole next to her says, then steals the beer from his grasp and takes a drink. The long column of her throat teases me all the way from over here, and I squeeze the bottle in my hand.

“The band’s taking…” Rory’s words hang in the air, and I clear my throat.

“Taking a break,” I finish, lifting my chin toward Tatum across the space. “That her husband?”

As she follows my gaze, her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Husband?”

“Archer, right?”

Her lips part, and her skin pales as she tears her attention from Tatum to stare up at me. “Y-you know about Archer?”

“That him?” I ask.

Her head shakes back and forth, but you’d think she’s seen a ghost. It only leaves me more on edge.

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