Beautiful Broken Read Online Free PDF Page B

table. I catch it, squeeze it in my own and nod.
    "Of course. Tomorrow?"
    She nods, flashes a weak smile, and I stand, retreating to the kitchen to let her breathe. I feel shaky, and I know she has to be on the verge of bolting.
    "Do you want a brownie?" I ask, my voice loud.
    "With ice cream, if you have it."
    Her voice is startlingly close, and I twist to look at her over my shoulder. She's standing close to me, holding out our plates.
    "I think there's some in the freezer outside. Check."
    She flashes me a grin and steps away, letting me have a split second to catch my breath.
    Oh, shit, I need to get laid. That has to be it—a simple lack of sex explains this irrational desire to kiss Scout senseless. I should text Mel—she'd be okay with a booty call tonight. Or if she isn't, there's the club—I could head there after Scout goes to bed.
    Just because I agreed to let her stay here, it doesn't mean I have to be with her every second of the day, does it?
    She comes back with a tub of ice cream roughly the size of her head and a grin as bright as the sun.
    I don't have to be with her every second. But there is no denying that I love spending time with her—she's fun, sarcastic, and amusing, and never buys any of my shit.
    "Where are you thinking for a job?"
    She hesitates, and I arch an eyebrow, waiting. "Well. I was thinking about contacting Curtis Interior. He's a phenomenal interior designer who does a lot of work in Baton Rouge and even down to New Orleans. He's amazing."
    "Why him?"
    She's arguing with herself about something and assessing me. Finally she says, "I like design work. And I'm good at it."
    "Do you think you'll study it in school?"
    It's an innocently posed question, but from the way she tenses, it's not. Not really.
    "Scout? What’s wrong?"
    "What if I don't want to go back?" she asks.
    "To school or to UB?"
    She frowns, biting her lip. "Both?"
    Frankly, I don't care what she does with her life as long as she's clean and keeps eating brownies with me. But trying to explain to Atticus why his baby sister is dropping out of secondary education is going to be hella hard to do.
    I hand her a bowl of ice cream topped with a brownie and go to the living room. She follows, folding her legs under her as she situates herself on the couch.
    "Scout, you know no one can force you to go to school, right?"
    She's watching me, warily. "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop," she says.
    "There is no other shoe. You don't want to go school. It's your life. You have to explain it to your brother, but you can probably make him understand. If your reasons are good."
    She tenses. Gives me a steady, angry stare. "Why do you keep pushing?"
    I lean back, my bowl on the couch between us. "What am I pushing, Scout?"
    "You know what. I don't want to talk about it—you need to get used to that. I'll talk about sobriety, and I'll get a job—I'll keep myself clean and be a productive member of society, but I don't want to talk about that night. Leave it the fuck alone."
    "Watch your mouth," I snap, angry. She laughs and I stand. Screw this. I can't be around her when she's angry like this, and, frankly, being around her at all is self-destructive and stupid.
    Scout isn't the only one with a shit ton of issues.
    I throw the bowls in the sink, shove my feet into some shoes, and grab my keys.
    "Where are you going?" she demands, her voice rising a little.
    "Out. You aren't interested in talking, and the entertainment I have in mind, you aren't cut out for." I run my eyes suggestively over her little body, all the lush curves. It's a lie. She's perfectly cut for it. But it makes her stop, pushes us into territory she isn't comfortable with—sex may be familiar, but me and sex have never been something that overlapped in Scout's world.
    It's best if it stays that way.
     
    Victorie is crowded. A roped-off line is keeping the horny freshmen out while frat boys parade in. I nod at the bouncer as I stride past the line and shove my way