Page 29 of Fractured Heart

“Just that you fell, and I took you to see a doctor,” Tate says quickly. He shares a concerned look with Charles.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” I say quickly. Then, I realize that I haven’t even thought about my bruised ribs or sore back in the longest time. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Good.” Tate smiles and gathers up the Pizza al Volo containers to put in the fridge. “I left the rest of the painkillers on the coffee table. You should take two more in the morning…and we should get to bed.”

“You don’t mind me staying? Even after I flooded the bathroom?”

“I told you that was my fault.” Tate stops what he’s doing and turns to face me. “I shouldn’t have left you alone after you took those pills. I’m lucky you didn’t fall asleep and drown.”

“It wasn’t the pills, Tate.” Even though I wish I could blame it on the medication and leave it at that. “I’m never paying attention. I get distracted and mess things up and—”

“Oh, Roonie,” Tate comes around the bar and brushes back a strand of my hair, “don’t say that about yourself.”

“But it’s true,” I whisper back.

“No, it isn’t,” Charles barks, even though he couldn’t be more wrong.

“You guys just met me. You don’t know me.”

“But we’d like to.” Tate takes my hand gently in his. “Now, come on. Let’s get you to bed. My room is just down the hall.”

“Since when is Roonie sleeping with you?” Charles snaps.

“I’m not,” I squeak.

Tate grins. “Since I offered to sleep on the couch.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Charles argues.

“You barely fit on it as is.” Tate winks at me.

“I fit just fine,” Charles growls and takes a menacing step toward his roommate.

“I’ll take the couch,” I cry, not wanting them to fight. “I don’t want to sleep in either of your beds.” Tate and Charles share a look and my cheeks flame. “I mean, I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“Are you sure?” Tate asks, his tone seductive. “You’ll be a lot more comfortable in my bed.”

“Or mine.” Charles smirks.

My pulse quickens. “I…um…” I shake my head emphatically. “I’ll be fine…out here, that is. On the couch.”

The guys smirk and hold another one of those silent conversations. They seem to come to some agreement and Tate heads to a closet to grab blankets and a pillow for me. He stacks them on the couch and then heads to his room without saying goodnight.

“Good night, Roonie,” Charles says for him.

I wait for him to head off to bed, too, but he just stands there. I fidget at his intense stare. What is he waiting for?

“Charles?” I ask nervously.

“Yes?” His eyes flash with hope. Despite his beastly appearance, I know there’s a softer side hidden behind his rough exterior. His classy wardrobe and the gentle kindness he’s shown me are the markings of a true prince.

Which is why I have to know. “Why were you reading that book, Charles?”

“What book?” His brows furrow.

“Grimm’s Fairy Tales…do you really like those stories?”

Charles shrugs. A few seconds pass, and I figure he’s not going to answer, when he finally says, “It’s research.”