Page 12 of Fractured Heart

“I’ll walk you home. Do you live nearby?”

I shake my head.

“Are you here visiting a friend?”

Another head shake.

“A boyfriend?” Tate frowns. A part of me hopes the frown means he’s jealous, but he’s probably just getting annoyed at having to guess.

“N-no,” I squeak.

“Ex-boyfriend?”

I shake my head.

“Girlfriend?”

“What? No. I just…” I don’t want to say it aloud, but there is no way around it. “I don’t have a home.”

“You don’t—” Tate’s eyebrows practically fly off his forehead and I rush to explain.

“I…I left…” I trail off as tears spring to my eyes.

“Oh, Roonie.” Tate takes my hands in his. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“No. It won’t.” It’ll never be okay.

“Of course it will,” Tate says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Whatever’s wrong, we can fix it.”

“How?” I cry. “I didn’t get into college. I can’t even get a job. And now, I don’t have a place to live. How will anything ever be okay?!”

I cover my mouth and my eyes widen in horror. Did I just say that aloud? Tate stares back at me, equally wide-eyed, and that’s answer enough. I really am a mess, just like Father always says. I couldn’t even last an hour with Prince Charming before I ended up ruining that, too.

I start to pull away, but Tate’s grip on my hands tightens. “It will be okay,” he says resolutely. “Until then, you can stay with me.”

Wait, what? This time, it’s my eyebrows that practically fly off my forehead. I just met Tate and he’s inviting me to stay at his place?

For a split second—and I do mean just a split second—I want to say yes. Tate is Prince Charming straight out of one of my favorite fairy tales. He rescued me from a forest and carried me over a threshold. He’s sweet and caring and tall and handsome. This is all like a dream come true and my heart skips a beat.

Until I remember that this is real life.

I can’t go home with a stranger, no matter how good-looking he is. It’s just not safe, but what is? Going back home and begging Father for forgiveness? That would only lead to more pain…not just tonight, but tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. Which suddenly makes Tate’s offer to stay at his place look a whole lot safer.

Plus, I can’t picture Tate turning into an ogre. He’s been so gentle with me since the moment we met. He hasn’t gotten angry, not when I’ve gotten mud all over him or the times I started humming or full out singing. He waited for me while I saw Dr. MacAulay, and he even thought to ask her for painkillers. I just can’t picture him being anything but kind.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome, either. I can’t help but notice how good he looks in the moonlight. It accentuates his perfectly chiseled jaw and adds a glint to his eyes. I search them and something in their honeyed depths tells me Tate would never hurt me.

Then, my gaze drifts down to his lips and I have this urge to lean up and kiss him. I long to lean into his body, rise up on tiptoe, and press my lips against his.

“That’d be grice,” I blurt out, my heart thundering in my chest as my cheeks flood with color.

“Grice?” Tate frowns.

“N-nice. I meant nice.” I blush harder. I was going to say ‘great,’ but I didn’t want to sound too eager. Now, I just sound like an idiot.

“Great!” Tate has no problem saying the word, and when he grins, I do too. “Come on. It’s this way.”

We turn back the way we came and head toward Tate’s dorm room. My ribs start to ache, and the uncomfortable feeling of wet socks is back, too. We pass the clock tower, with its giant arrows pointing to eleven fifty-five, and I idly wonder if I’ll turn into a pumpkin at midnight. It would actually make for a great song if I just—