Page 19 of Broken

“And with that, I’m done,” he announces.

“Thank fuck,” I grumble and head inside. I slam my door shut, kick off my boots and fall back on the bed fully clothed. Turning, I yank my pillow from under the covers and stuff it behind my head. I think about my evening with Gabby and how I felt more myself than I’ve felt since ever meeting Shelby. Fuck,that’s not even it. Tonight, I felt like the man I always wanted to be—a man worthy of a father, a family, and a good woman. I was riding that wave high before my talk with Dragon. I didn’t really think about where that feeling was coming from. Didn’t try to pinpoint what exactly made me feel the emotions I was feeling. Gabby is a friend. I want to help her. That’s all there is to it. It’s also probably why I felt like I was finally the man I always wanted to be. I shake my head, pushing all the other thoughts aside. Apparently, Nicole is also the type of woman to make Dragon watchrom-coms. They’ve gone to his head. Gabby and I are just friends. These things I’m feeling have nothing to do with an interest in her beyond that. I’m not looking to be the man who guides her out of anything. We just enjoy spending time together while we sort out our lives. We’re friends. That’s it.

I close my eyes and do my best to ignore the echoing sound of Dragon’s words in my head. Then I dig in deep and try harder to ignore the voice telling me I have it in me to guide her through to the other side and maybe get a chance to taste her sweetness …

Fuck me, how did I let myself get here?

Chapter 10

Gabby

“I thoughtLottie was going to pick me up,” I murmur, looking out the window as we drive past the stores downtown.

Apparently, King stayed with me last night until I fell asleep. Then, before I even finished getting ready for work, he was at my door this morning telling me he was my ride. This evening, he was there when I got off work. I don’t know what to make of all this, and it’s kind of freaking me out. Last night was a lot, but it was mostly good. Yet the fact I fell asleep on King crying leaves me feeling vulnerable and more than a little lost. I can’t deal with everything hitting me right now, so I’m shoving it down into the dark recesses of my mind. I’ll think about it later—or maybe never.

“There was no need. I was free, and this way I can make sure you have dinner.”

“King, you’re only visiting Tennessee for a small window of time. You’re supposed to be spending time with the club and with Dragon, not trying to nursemaid me,” I complain, starting to get very defensive.

“I’m doing what I want to do. Why is that so wrong?”

“You want to spend your evening moving me into my new place and force feeding me?”

“Sunshine, right now, I couldn’t think of anything I’d like better.”

“Then maybe you should go to the doctor. It’s possible you hit your head or something,” I grumble, ignoring that he’s called me Sunshine twice and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Except I know if he keeps it up, I’ll need to make him stop.

He laughs and reaches over to turn his radio on. He changes the source to his phone and music begins to flow through the speakers. “Hey! I know this song.”

“I figured you would. It’s soft music like that weird-ass song you picked, but at least it’s by a man who can sing.”

“It’s on the Dirty Dancing soundtrack. Everyone knows this song,” I explain.

“What in the hell are you going on about? That’s an Otis Redding song. It stands on its own.”

“Dirty Dancing is one of the best movies ever. That song made the movie come alive,” I press on, ignoring him.

“Jesus, you white people are crazy when it comes to music.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say. Besides, in my case, it’s not true.”

“It is. Your genes are more your mom, not your dad’s and your taste in music …” he breaks off to shake his head and give me a superior look that makes me want to kick him for some reason. “Woman, it’s not good. Dubious at best.”

“You’re a jerk,” I grumble.

“I like you, too, Gabby.”

I roll my eyes at him, and he gives me that big grin of his. I try to fight my own but have trouble containing it. “Did you bring my stuff for the house?”

“Yeah, although—just to be clear—I do not like you leaving the clubhouse right now.”

“Noted, but I like it and it’s my life. So, you’re just going to have to suck it up, big guy. Who sings this song?” I ask, effectively changing the subject.

“You don’t know?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask,” I point out, when he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“That’s Etta James, Sunshine. And I’m pretty sure it’s like a felony in at least forty states not to know she sings At Last.”

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