Irreparably Broken (Irreparable 1)

I shrug and take another sip of soda before setting it on the counter. “Uh…because he asked and it sounded like fun.”

Eyes dark, he looks right at me. It’s unnerving, but I refuse to look away. “Tori, I don’t want you to see him again.” His voice is rigid and send shards of anger through me.

I bite back hurtful words. I like our newfound friendship, but he’s pushing it. “Brady, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”

“He’s dangerous!”

“Funny.” I half laugh. “That’s what he says about you.”

His chair squeaks when he slides it out from under the table and stands up. He comes over to stand close beside me. I can already sense the heightened charge in the air with his nearness. “What did he tell you?” His tone is bitter.

“Nothing specific. You want to tell me what’s going on between the two of you?”

He pushes off the counter and pinches the bridge of his nose again. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” I ask, urging him to explain.

“I just can’t,” he answers, and his body is suddenly close to me, caging me in. His hands are on each side of me, gripping the counter, and I have no choice but to look into the depths of his green eyes. His hard warm body brushes against my breast and I let out a small whimper. “He’s wrong for you, and I don’t want him touching you,” he says brutally, his words hitting my gut like a brick.

He doesn’t want Harrison to have me, but he doesn’t want me. I duck under his arm and move away from him. “God, you’re exhausting, Brady. If you don’t tell me, then I have no reason not to see him again. I like him.” Not like I like you, but I like him.

Brady flinches, as though I've hit him. He spins to face me, giving me an enraged look. Neither of us speaks. Finally, he grabs his keys from the counter. Without a word, he walks out the door, closing it behind him. His truck door slams shut moments later. The engine roars, and the tir

es squeal when he pulls away. He’s infuriating, and for the life of me, I don’t know what his problem is. He’s the one who just wants to be friends.

Tug pounds down the stairs and into the kitchen shortly afterward, just in time to witness what a mess I am. Not a crying mess, because I will not cry, but a seriously-in-need-of-Prozac mess. He approaches me, making pouty lips, and winds his hands around my nape, pulling me to him. I bury my head in his chest and sigh loudly.

Tug leans his head back and lifts my chin. “Wow! You look bent. Harrison must be one shitty date.”

That brings a small smile to my face, and I laugh softly. “The date was terrific. I guess I’m just missing my parents.” Big fat liar!

He smiles understandingly. “I’m sorry.”

I snort and laugh a little. “For the date or my parents?”

A deep chuckle comes from his chest and he lets go of my waist. “Both.” I’m so glad he walked in when he did. “So, what’s the dealio? Are you going to see him again?”

I nod. Tug always makes me feel better. “We’re going to the movies on Friday.”

“Oh, come on! I was gonna ask you to go to the movies Friday.”

I might feel better but I’m not up for being playful. “Sorry, Tug, I’d rather go to the movies with Harrison.”

His hand presses against my forehead, then my cheeks. “Nope, no fever. Harrison’s turning you into a sap. You went way too easy on me.”

Now my smile’s big, and I roll my eyes. “Fine, I’d rather drink my own piss than go to the movies with you.”

“Eh, better.” He picks up his keys and kisses my temple. “I’m out. You gonna be okay?”

“I’m good. Thanks, Tuggy.”

He winks, and then he’s out.

Brady

I shouldn’t have been a complete dick earlier, but I hadn’t been able to stop myself, and now I’m going to have to beg her forgiveness, again. I walk through the front door to find her lying on the couch, reading. She looks beautiful with her golden waves splayed out around the pillow her head rests on. As she looks over at me, her cheeks are a bright pink. She looks flushed, and I watch her curiously. She sits up and sets her book on the coffee table. She’s waiting for me to speak first. I relax and walk over to her.

Cautiously, I hand her the tissue I’ve written I’m an ass, sorry! on. She takes it from my hand, reads it, and smiles. Now I smile, too, and she sets the tissue on the coffee table.