Page 98 of A Little Broken

“Truest thing you’ve said since we first met.” He tugs me a little closer to the side so we don’t block the stairs. “You still being stubborn?”

“It’s what I do best.”

“Would you look at that? We’ve agreed on two things in one night.” His attention slides down my body. “I like the dress.”

I glance down at the garment in question, hating how well it fits. Silky. Black. With a long slit up the side and just enough support to make my boobs look incredible. Seriously. It’s like it was made for me. My gaze flicks up to Pax. “You’re lucky it isn’t red.”

“Are you saying there was a chance of you getting in the hot tub again?”

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I drop my head back. “God, I’m seriously going to kill her.”

“Kill who?” Paxton prods.

“No one.”

“You sure?”

My phone buzzes again with another call, and I silence it, peeking back at Paxton. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Before he has a chance to follow, I dash down the stairs as another call blows up my phone. I start to tuck it back in its place, but a message appears.

Ophelia

Tatum, will you please stop being a brat?

A brat?I’mthe brat? Screw that. I open the message and subsequently, the last dozen she’s sent, too. The first is from a few days ago.

Ophelia

Hey, Tate! I know you’re busy, but if you could give me a call, I’d love to chat for a minute. No pressure, though.

Hey, Tate! Just checking in to see if you can chat?

Look, I know I’m not your favorite person, but I have news, and I really want to share it with my little sister.

My teeth dig into the inside of my cheek as I stare at the title, little sister, unsurprised by the familiar guilt and resentment it brings with it. And sadness. There’s sadness there, too, though I’m familiar with that particular feeling as well. Forcing my jaw muscles to relax, I continue scanning the onslaught of messages.

Ophelia

Tate, please stop ignoring me. Please?

It would be nice if my little sister would answer her calls OR her text messages.

Listen, Tatum, I’m tired of keeping this from everyone in hopes that you hear it from me. Will you please call me? I have news.

News.

I scoff. What? Did you save another orphan? Cure cancer? Learn a seventh language? What could my perfect, high-and-mighty sister want to share with little ol’ me? I scoff again, unable to help myself. Like I want to know. Mom and Dad are probably forcing her to reach out or something. It’s not like she’d be texting or calling out of her own volition or anything.

Ophelia

You’re pissing me off, Tate. Call me. Please.

Aaaand, we’re back to the beginning.

Ophelia

Tatum, stop being a brat.

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