Page 35 of Fractured Heart

“What happened to your arm?” Charles grabs my arm and examines some old bruises. He’s gentle, but I still yelp. My body’s too keyed up after my run-in with JJ and Charles is too close for comfort.

“I fell,” I lie, trying to pull my arm away, but Charles holds me in place. His grip is strong, yet gentle. He lifts his other hand and grazes the green, faded marks with large fingers. They don’t look like they could have been caused by a fall, especially not the one that happened today.

The bruises are almost a week old and could have easily been avoided. I’d been humming again, even though Father ordered me to stop multiple times. He’d been drunk at the time, but the only reason he grabbed my arm was to make me stop. If I’d just stayed quiet like he’d asked, it never would have happened.

My memories and the knowledge that JJ could come back into the living room at any moment make me tense. Charles watches me, concern evident in his eyes. He caresses my arm, his dark, piercing gaze traveling after his fingers. He slides them up my shoulder and neck, making me shiver, and gently cups my face.

His gaze shifts to my lips and the thought of him kissing me again makes me tremble. His earlier kiss seared me like fire, but this time he’s gentle with me. He leans in slowly, giving me a chance to pull away. I don’t. I lean toward him, wanting this—wanting him—when footsteps enter the living room.

I jerk away from Charles and turn to face Tate. It’s too late. He’s already halfway across the living room, which means he’s definitely seen us. He knows I was about to kiss Charles, but he doesn’t look upset or even surprised. He just gives me this knowing look that makes me blush from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

“I hope JJ didn’t freak you out too much,” he says casually, like what just happened wasn’t a big deal.

“I’m fine.” The response is automatic, but honestly, what am I supposed to say? That I’m not fine? That I can’t be around JJ and I want him gone?

“Great.” Tate smiles, completely oblivious. “We should get back to bed. Try to get some sleep before class tomorrow.”

“You have class on a Saturday?” I frown.

Tate nods. “Sessions with our vocal coach.”

Charles grunts in agreement and the couch shifts as he moves to stand. He goes to turn off the lights and Tate heads toward his bedroom.

“Wait!” I cry after them. I can’t stay here. Not when JJ could stumble out into the living room and find me. This is worse than living at home. At least there, I had a bedroom I could lock.

“Yeah?” The guys turn to face me, questioning looks mirrored on both their faces.

“I think I should go,” I whisper, getting to my feet. I grab the pink bag, which now holds my jeans and sweater, and hug it to my chest. “I’ll just go to the bathroom and change.”

“Go?” Charles frowns.

“Why, Roonie?” Tate stares at me intently. “And where would you go?”

I shrug and stare down at my feet. Anywhere is safer than here. It’s not like I have a choice, anyway. JJ lives here and I don’t. I’ve only been here a few hours so it’s obvious which one of us belongs.

“Roonie?” Tate presses. “What is it?”

“It’s JJ,” Charles tells him, his voice gruff.

“JJ?” Tate frowns. “He’s not a bad guy, Roonie. He’s just wasted.”

“I know.” I nod, because I get it. Father’s not a bad person either, deep down. He loved Mom, in his own way, and he never hurts me when he’s sober. JJ might be a decent guy, too, but it doesn’t mean it’s safe for me to stay.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, you can sleep in my room,” Tate suggests.

“Or mine,” Charles adds gruffly.

“I meant she could take my bed and I’ll take the couch,” Tate tells Charles with a frown.

Charles grunts.

“I can’t ask you guys to do that,” I whisper, even though I want to say yes. Tate’s done so much for me already—rescuing me, taking me to the doctor, giving me a place to stay. Charles has too. There are the clothes and the food and the fact that neither guy kicked me out after the bathroom flood.

I can’t pay them back for what they’ve done, and I definitely can’t keep taking. “I have to go.”

“No,” Charles snaps as I head for the door. He pushes past Tate and scoops me up like I weigh nothing.

“Charles?” I gasp as he cradles me gently against his bare chest, careful not to hurt me.