Shattered by You (Tear Asunder 3)

Yes.

Technically, I was leaving class.

What class?

Sex Ed. We learned how to put condoms on cucumbers today.

I don’t know why I said it; Crisis brought out a side of me I didn’t know I had. I waited for my phone to light up, holding it in my palm as I walked from the lecture hall.

LOL . . . Shit, babe, you’re really fuckin’ adorable. I may have to make you mine.

Adorable? I was anything but adorable. I ate adorable. I couldn’t believe he just said that. Yes, I could, it was Crisis. It was easy text chatting with him. It was safe behind the phone and he couldn’t see inside me this way. I moved to the side to let students by me as I walked slowly and typed back.

And disappoint the reporters and girls?

True. But I’d be more worried about your brother’s reaction. He’d slingshot my balls with a fuckin’ rock.

I hadn’t mentioned to Ream that I talked to Crisis and neither had Crisis.

A dart is more his style.

My balls just fucked off up into my abdomen.

A bubbling rose in my chest and I stopped in the middle of the hallway. It was an odd sensation with my insides tightening and my stomach fluttering. Laughter. I wanted to laugh, but that sound had been trapped inside me for a really long time.

Going now.

Okay, later, Ice. Be good.

I huffed at his nickname for me. I was uncertain whether it was because of that night when he found me freezing cold or because of my icy personality. I shoved my phone in my pocket and rushed to my next class.

My routine remained steady over the next month and I became accustomed to seeing Luke around. He wasn’t there to protect me from anyone, rather to protect me from myself, so he didn’t follow me from class to class, but I suspected he was reporting to Crisis on my emotional status.

My phone vibrated in my zippered pocket of my stretch pants and I stopped on the side of the road, fished it out and looked at the screen.

Mom saw my naked ass on Twitter. *face palm*

I plopped down on my butt on the shoulder of the road near the ditch, breathing hard after the five miles I’d just run. I glanced behind me and saw Luke stop; he didn’t even look out of breath—goddamn machine. He walked over to a tree and leaned against it, his head tilted down, not looking like he was watching me, but I knew he was.

The dirt road I was on was good to run on as cars rarely passed by and it backed onto one of the horse fields I’d cut through on my way home.

I lay back and the pebbles were like tiny pin pricks as they dug into my spine. I shifted a bit until it didn’t hurt, bent my knees and held my phone up in front of me as I texted back.

Was she impressed?

He’d been gone two months and I realized that whenever my phone vibrated now, a whoosh went through me. There were no filters with Crisis, and I liked that he said whatever was on his mind.

A breeze ruffled the few strands of hair that weren’t drenched in sweat and glued to my forehead. The wind was calm today and warm, nothing chasing me. I’d only had a few instances where my ice cracked and the memories invaded, but I adapted just like I had before. I escaped before I let it in.

LOL, no. But what freaks me out more is that she’s following me on Twitter. The bullshit I spew on there is not for a mom to read.

His mom, who was also my brother’s foster mom, as Crisis’ parents’ took Ream in when child services had him in custody, had tried to get me to come to dinner numerous times since the boys left on tour.

I refused. The last thing I wanted was a mother figure around, telling me what to do. All I wanted was to go to school, get a degree, then a job and live without boundaries.

I’d lived like an abused animal, hit and kicked, mostly by Alexa, but Olaf was a low-life piece of shit and did his fair share when I fought the clients.

Babe, you there?

I quickly slammed down the wall blocking the memory and typed back.

How did she know it was yours?

Tattoo.

She knows you have a tattoo on your butt?

Yeah. The woman hates my tats. So, whenever I’m about to get a new one, I send her a pic of the design and ask her opinion.

Cruel.

You think? I was going more for clever. You get your license yet?

No.

Good.

Good?

Yeah, I want to teach you.

I did want to get my driver’s license, but hadn’t liked the idea of sitting in a car with a stranger. My phone vibrated again.

So, what are you doing?

I was running. Now, I’m lying on the side of the road texting you.

WTF. Get off the road.

No one drives down here. That dead-end dirt road behind the farm.

Calling.

NO.

I lowered my phone to my lap and closed my eyes as the morning sun beamed down on my face. He’d called me twice since he left, but both times I didn’t answer then texted him that I was at school and couldn’t talk. It wasn’t a lie. I’d been at school, but talking to Crisis felt different than texting. Texting was . . . impersonal.

My phone sang “Part of Me” by Katy Perry.

He knew I wasn’t in class and was perfectly capable of answering. Shit, I had to pick it up or knowing Crisis, he’d keep calling until I did and if I never did, he’d probably call Luke.

I answered but didn’t say anything.

“Get off the road,” he said. “Where the fuck is Luke?”

“Around.” I sat up, curled one arm around my legs while I held the phone to my ear. The sound of his voice sent a thrum of shivers across my skin and a flutter in my belly. Crisis had a sexy voice, kind of husky with a slight deep burr that carried into his singing. Logan, aka Sculpt to the general public, was the lead singer, but often Crisis or Ream had parts of songs they sang too.