"A kid who was once homeless who now has the time to make art whenever he feels like it," Brody corrected. "The money means nothing. You know that."
She sighed. "I do." She knew so much about money now, so many things she wished she didn't have to know. "But at the same time, it means everything. It means security."
"Does it?" He looked pointedly at her arm.
She bit her lip. "Maybe not all the time."
Brody walked over to her and slid two fingers under her chin. Her heart started to pound as he looked down at her, so close she could see the golden flecks in his dark eyes. "A girl who was once homeless who now brightens the world with her music," he said quietly.
She swallowed. The feel of his fingers against her skin was almost too much. I missed you. The words whispered through her mind, but she kept them to herself. She had to.
"Two artists who once knew each other," he said. "And now…here we are."
"Yeah." She met his gaze, and silence fell between them. So much to say. But where to even start? Or finish. "Brody—"
He cleared his throat, as if her voice had broken the spell. "Later. We'll talk later. You're about to pass out on your feet."
As if on cue, she yawned again, and they both laughed, breaking the tension between them.
"My point proven." Brody nodded at the bathroom. "I keep a new toothbrush and toothpaste in every bathroom, in case anyone needs to crash here. Sometimes Bella and Meg leave stuff around. I'll see what I can scrounge up for you to wear."
Bella and Meg were the two Hart sisters. Tatum had known both of them when she'd been with Brody. Bella…they'd been best friends that summer. The kind of best friend she'd never found again. And Meg…sweet Meg. A few years younger, she'd been like the little sister Tatum had never had.
Brody paused and then handed her his phone. "If you need to call anyone, use this. The number is blocked. No one can track you. The passcode is the address under the bridge. Do you remember that?"
She nodded. "I do." The Hart kids had made up an address for their hideaway to put on school paperwork and other places that needed proof that they had a home. She clutched his phone in her hand. "Thanks."
"No problem." He headed toward the door, then turned to face her. "I'd like to tell them you're here. They know I went to see you. I know they're wondering what happened."
She knew he was talking about his family.
She bit her lip. She knew how important honesty was to him. He'd fought hard to open the lines of communication between everyone, believing that working together was their only chance of survival back then. She'd fallen under that spell, and it had burned her.
She didn't believe in sharing all her secrets anymore. He'd taught her that. "Can we wait?"
"There's power in numbers," he said.
She raised her chin. "There's also power in intimacy, Brody. Two people who have their own secrets, their own whispers. There's power in that, too."
"If they ask me, I can't lie to them," he said again. "And they're going to ask."
She sighed. "I know. I know." He was right. "That's fine. Just…can you give me time before I have to talk to them?"
Understanding softened his face. "Of course. That, I can do."
Relief rushed through her. "All right, then."
"Good?"
"Yeah."
"I'll grab a plastic bag and some tape for your cast so you can shower. I'll be back in a few minutes." He reached for the door, then paused again. "Tatum?"
Her heart started to race at the look on his face. "What?" Fifteen years. Fifteen years.
"I'm glad you came to me for help. Whatever's going on, we'll fix it."
She sighed. "Thanks."
He nodded and shut the door behind him.
Instead of heading for the bathroom to get the grime off, Tatum simply sank down onto the bed and curled up on her side, staring at the door that had just shut behind Brody.
She'd never thought she'd see him in person again.
She'd never thought she'd speak to him again.
And yet, here she was. In his house.
She'd thought he was going to say that he was glad she was there. Or it was good to see her. Or that the song had been magical.
But he hadn't. He'd said he was glad she'd called him for help.
Because that was what Brody was. The man who helped everyone. A trait that made him a hero.
But it was that trait that had broken her heart and made her leave him behind forever.
Until now.
She was back. With a heart that maybe hadn't recovered from the past nearly as much as she'd thought. And a man who was still the guy who'd broken it in the first place.
Chapter Eight
Brody was back at Tatum's door in less than five minutes. He'd found one of Bella's sweatshirts hanging in the entry, so he'd grabbed that, then jogged back up the stairs.
Tatum was in his house.
She was back.
Here.
With him.
The thought was staggering.
"Tatum?" He knocked lightly at her door and then opened it.
She was asleep on the bed, curled up in a ball, her hands tucked under her chin.
She looked tiny and vulnerable. His gaze settled on the cast, and he swore under his breath. He had to stay focused. Her being in his house wasn't about rekindling a romance that he'd screwed up.
It was about finding out what the hell was going on and making sure she was safe.
He set the plastic bag and tape on the bathroom counter, then grabbed a heavy blanket from the closet. He set it over her, but as he was tucking it around her, her eyes flickered open.
His heart seemed to stutter when those sleepy brown eyes settled on him. "Stay with me," she whispered.
He let out his breath. "Tatum—"
"Hold me, Brody." She closed her eyes again. "Like before. Like none of this ever happened."
For a long moment, he didn't move. He just stood there, staring down at her. Lie down with her? In bed?
She opened her eyes again. "Never mind. Forget it. It's fine." She rolled away from him, turning her back on him, just like she'd done fifteen years ago, when he'd refused to be there for her.
Fuck that. If she needed him, he was going to be there for her. Whatever it was.
He kicked off his boots, then slid onto the bed, tucking himself up behind her as he wrapped his arm around her waist. She immediately scooted backward, pressing her back against his chest.
Brody draped his leg over her hips and pulled her tighter against him, being careful not to bump her arm. Tatum wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tugged his hand against her chest, pulling his arm even tighter around her.
He let out his breath, relaxing into the warmth of her body. Listening to the sound of her breathing. Feeling the rise and fall of her ribs under his arm. Her hair tickled his face. He pressed a kiss into her hair, then buried his face against the back of her head.
Like he used to do.
Only back then, he hadn't slowed down to appreciate the moment. To realize she could be gone in a moment, and what that would do to him if it happened.