Page 42 of The Broken Note

I can’t afford to fall deeper into him than I already am.

If I do…

I won’t ever find a way out.

My fingers tremble as I pull them into fists and knock on the door.

The lock clicks.

The knob turns.

It opens immediately.

Dutch leans against the door, his big body filling the doorway, hands in his pockets and eyes on me. When our gazes collide, my world rocks a bit.

I shudder like I’m standing in the rain.

Dutch Cross is not just a bad boy.

He’s a natural disaster—a force of nature that can level cities.

And he’d been waiting for me.

I freeze, but my heart doesn’t follow suit. It’s pounding like a war drum.

“Come in,” Dutch says, stepping aside.

I move into the practice room, stunned to see everything is cleaned up and set back in its place. His guitar has new strings. I know better than to point that out.

Instead, I ask, “Where are your brothers and Sol?”

“They were tired from all the excitement last night,” Dutch says plainly.

Guilt squeezes my lungs. I stare at the ground. “Last night was… tell them I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered them.”

Rough fingers brace my chin and lift my head. I meet Dutch’s fierce gaze. “We make our own choices and we own the consequences. It’s no one else’s burden but ours. So drop that look. You did nothing wrong and I won’t stand here and let you pretend like you did.”

His words are sweet, but his tone is so freaking harsh.

I snap my chin out of his hands.

He lets me back away, but his eyes remain fixed on me, studying my every move.

If we were something close to friends, if he wasn’t a possessive lunatic, I would take this last chance to ask him some questions. About his friendship with Sol and how they got close enough that Dutch would torture me just to save him. About his dad and the tension I saw between them in the classroom. About music and if he feels any closer to an answer than he did before.

Instead, I say nothing.

The only sound in the practice room is the rip of my zipper as I tug my bag open. I dip my hand inside and emerge with the ring box.

Dutch’s eyes flick to the box and return to my face. There’s a hopeful gleam in his gaze, almost as if he thinks that I’m here to accept.

The crazy thing is… I probably would.

In another life.

In another world.

The connection between us is undeniable, but it isn’t enough to survive in this life.

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