Page 87 of Broken (Broken 1)


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His face softens, “I’ll always worry about you.”

I look him directly in the eyes, “Do you want me to go?”

Blowing out a breath, he runs his fingers through his hair again, “No. Honestly I don’t.”

“I thought you liked your privacy. Your space.”

“And so far you’ve respected both, I enjoy your company. It is your choice but think about it before you make any decisions,” he waves his hand to signal for the waitress. She comes over and clears our plates, asking if everything was okay with our meal. We both nod and climb from the table. Nathan takes my wrist in his hand and guides me outside. I’m not sure exactly where we are, I just know that it looks like we’re in the middle of nowhere.

“She wants to visit,” I blurt as we walk towards the car.

His brow rises, “Does she know who you’re staying with?”

“No, I didn’t tell her,” I chew on my lip for a moment, looking out of the curving green and yellow hills that touch the horizon. “Can I ask you something?” He helps me into the car and rushes around to his side.

“Sure.”

Should I?

Yes. “Why’d you hit Caleb?”

“What?” Oh, like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

He looks around for a moment, clearly uncomfortable. I repeat my question, “Why did you hit Caleb that night? And then tell me to get rid of the baby?”

“It’s a long story.”

“It’s a long drive,” Why’s he avoiding this?

He lets out a long breath of frustration, “It’s not important, it happened and I’m ashamed of myself for acting so barbarically.”

“It is important,” I respond, feeling defensive. “You just walked in, cracked him one and left.”

“You’ve never mentioned it before,” he grits out and starts the car. “Why now?”

That’s a good question, “Because I’ve been too busy dealing with my grief to think about anything else. I’d like to know.”

“My brother betrayed my trust, I asked him to do something for me and instead he chose to let me down after swearing to me it would be done,” he responds cryptically and now I want to know even more. “That’s it.”

“What did he swear to you he’d do?”

“Honestly, Guinevere, I really don’t want to talk about this,” he looks agitated, I feel agitated.

“You don’t trust me?”

His face hardens, “I don’t trust anyone.”

Ouch. “Kay.”

“Don’t take it personally,” he sighs like I’m being ridiculous by feeling a little bit sad over this. “Trust is earned over time, not given freely on request.”

My mouth drops open, “And I haven’t earned your trust yet?” What an arsehole.

“Just drop it would you?” He looks at me briefly. “Whatever happened between Caleb and I is my business. It’s not for you to worry about.”

I glare at his profile when he faces the road once more, my arms folded across the top of my belly, “What about what you said to me?”

“What are you talking about now?”

“You told me to get rid of the baby whilst I still had the chance. Why would you say that?”

He doesn’t respond, he stares blankly ahead, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

“Nathan.” I persist, wanting him to explain.

“I apologize for saying that.”

“Clearly I’ve forgiven you already. But I’d like to know why you said it.”

Like before, he doesn’t respond, I rest my forehead on the glass. Out of the corner of my eye I see him look at me as if wanting to say something, he shakes his head and looks back at the road; his lips a thin white line and his jaw tense. “I have a meeting with my solicitor tomorrow in the city, I’ll be away until the weekend.”

“Don’t do that,” I snap, feeling my anger rise. “Every single time we have a heated discussion you take off. Maybe I should just leave, then you won’t have to keep doing that every few days.”

“That’s not why I’m leaving.”

“I’m calling bullshit.”

“Don’t swear, it’s not attractive.”

I laugh humourlessly, “Seriously? I’m not trying to be attractive.”

“Just don’t swear and don’t leave. It’s not why I’m leaving.”

Eye roll. “I’m always the reason you leave. It makes me feel guilty knowing I’m in your house and you feel forced to stay elsewhere.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Am I? It doesn’t feel like it. “Whatever.”

“I’m serious,” he remarks, stopping the car so he can look at me. “That house… it holds some painful memories for me. That’s why I leave on occasion.”

I’m sceptical. “Why do these memories only resurface when you seem to be pissed at me?”

“Stop swearing.”

“Sorry,” I say this flippantly and continue on as before, “I don’t get it, Nathan. Do you want me to leave? Tell me honestly, I don’t want…”

“Stop reading into things that aren’t there,” he cuts me off; his tone is louder than it was a moment ago, it startles me.

“Like you can talk,” I mumble and instantly regret it.

Pain flashes through his features before vanishing behind a hardened mask. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

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