Page 42 of Fractured Heart

I’m so startled, I drop the guitar. Not on the couch, or even the coffee table, but onto the floor. With the rug gone, wood strikes wood with a loud, echoing thud. I fall to my knees after it, my face pale as I flip it over to check for damage.

The guitar didn’t fall far. It should be fine, but it’s not. A crack runs down the back.

I broke Tate’s guitar!

I stay paralyzed in place until there’s another bang on the door.

It has to be Tate. He left me his key card, so he has no way of getting back in. The thought of him catching me with his broken guitar propels me into action. Even though I know it’s wrong, I grab the guitar and race to put it back where I found it. I can’t let Tate find out what I’ve done. Not after I flooded the entire apartment last night and he st

ill let me stay. He’ll kick me out for sure. And he’ll hate me.

I make sure the guitar is positioned exactly where it had been earlier. Maybe I can get the money to fix it before Tate finds out?

I know how unlikely that is. I’ve spent months trying to find work, and no one would hire me. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to pay Tate back, but I need to hold onto that dream. It’s the only way I can live with what I’ve done.

I close the door behind me, erasing any evidence of my presence, and take a few seconds to catch my breath. Then I go to unlock the front door. I almost flip the bolt before I remember to check the peephole. I know it’s probably Tate, since I have his key card, but what if it’s Father? Or Campus Security checking if there are any non-students where they don’t belong?

I peek into the hallway and a petite girl my age stares back at me. "Roonie Hill?" she calls out in a muffled voice. How does she know my name? Am I in trouble?

I already broke Tate’s guitar! How much worse could my day possibly get?

"Who is it?” I call out tentatively.

"Angela from Stillwater.”

“Angela?” I call back. I don't know anyone named Angela. And I’ve definitely never heard of Stillwater. Is that the name of campus security?

I hesitate and she adds, “Tate Green sent me.”

Chapter 22

Tate called Campus Security?

I shake my head. Tate would never do that to me, even if I deserve it or worse. I flooded the apartment and I made out with him and Charles. I pitted the two roommates against each other. And I’m attracted to JJ. I’m an absolute disaster. Maybe I was challenging fate by running away from home. And it looks like fate’s caught up with me.

JJ probably told the guys what happened and convinced them that the best thing for everyone would be for me to leave. He probably made Tate call campus security, and when Tate finds out what I’ve done to his guitar, he’ll be glad that he did.

I touch my collarbone, needing the calming presence of my pendant. My heart sinks. I reach into my pocket, where the four pieces of my fractured heart reside. My fingers graze the cool stone, but I don’t feel the usual peace. I just feel broken. My shoulders slump and I open the door.

“You must be Roonie Hill?” Angela from Stillwater smiles at me. She seems unusually happy for someone who goes around kicking people off campus. She doesn’t look like much of a guard. She’s around my age and a full head shorter than me. Her green eyes and blond ponytail give her an air of childish innocence. So does her uniform. It consists of comfy-looking black yoga pants and a white polo shirt. The word ‘Stillwater’ is emblazoned on her sleeve, but in pretty pink cursive.

The huge bag she’s holding with apparent ease is clearly marked Stillwater, as is the fancy ironing board she has propped up against the wall beside her. She picks it up like it weighs nothing and pushes past my startled form.

I stare after her for a second. She can’t be from campus security. Tate must have called her to do his laundry.

“Do you need any help?” I call after her.

“It’s cool. I got it.” Angela smiles at me over her shoulder. “I do this all the time! For the last few months, anyway.”

She unfolds the ironing board in the middle of the living room. It’s a lot larger than the one I’ve used the few times Father needed a suit. It’s also got a padded leather surface instead of a thin, cloth one and sturdy wooden legs rather than weak, metal ones.

“It’ll only take me another minute to set up.” Angela smiles when she sees me watching. “Why don’t you get ready?”

“Ready?” I ask in confusion.

Angela nods. “You’ll be more comfortable without a bra.”

“What?” I stare at her, sure I must not have heard her right.