Torn - Part Three (The Torn Series) Read Online Free

had. "We shouldn't have lied to you," he said, "And I'm sorry about that."
     
    I shrugged again and looked away. "It's fine, Mal, I'm not mad. We never talked about being exclusive."
     
    "Nothing happened." He reached across the table and covered my hands with his. The unexpected contact sent a shiver down to my toes. "Believe me. Nothing happened."
     
    "Okay." I wanted to believe him. I could sort of believe him. I’d become aware of how spiteful Jen could be, I'd heard whispered comments from her friends and from Robin when we hung out after our shows. But that didn't change the lie.
     
    "Keep the shelf," he said. "Please."
     
    "Okay." I was starting to feel like a broken record, all nods and "okays." "Thank you. It's perfect."
     
    He smirked. "I know." I stifled a laugh. There was the Mallet that I missed so badly. I had to get out of there before I said or did something stupid.
     
    "I should get back to work."
     
    "Meet with me again."
     
    "Can't you ever ask?" I said, grimacing. "Does it always have to be an order?"
     
    "You like how I talk." There was that smirk again, barely concealed. The man just couldn't help himself.
     
    "I do," I said, "or at least I did." I bit into my pizza to keep from saying more.
     
    After a long pause, he finally asked, "Will you meet with me again?"
     
    I eyed him warily. "Not tonight."
     
    "No. Of course. You name when."
     
    "Tomorrow? Before my shift?"
     
    He nodded. "I'll come down to your neighborhood."
     
    "Okay."

CHAPTER 3
     
    When I stumbled home late that night - or technically, early the next morning - I spent an hour filling the shelf despite being exhausted. My room went from looking like a hobo was squatting in it to something that might be nice to live in. Eventually.
     
    I really needed to get my shit together.
     
    I woke the next afternoon groggy and still tired. Ever since I'd begun working nights full-time, I never felt like I got enough sleep. I could practically feel the dark circles under my eyes.
     
    All the booze didn't help matters, but what was a bartender to do?
     
    Mallet messaged me two hours before I needed to be at Picklebackers, saying, "I'm in the area, where would you like to meet?" If we were on better terms I would have wanted to bring him to the bar to show him off. Maybe later? Was I really considering trying to patch things up? I'd have to be crazy, right?
     
    There was another message, too. This one from Tyler. It read simply, “We belong together and you know it. We need to talk.” I ignored it, as I’d been ignoring most of his messages lately. He wasn’t sending them too often, but he was walking a fine line between “sad and lonely” and “creepy and desperate.” I was afraid that a meeting was going to have to happen if I ever planned on getting him off my back completely.
     
    I was in the middle of replying to Mallet with the address of another neighborhood pub when someone rang my buzzer. My heart leapt into my chest. Was it him?
     
    Looking out the front window confirmed it. There he was at the front door, running a hand through his tousled brown hair and looking a little distraught. I hit the intercom and said, "I'll be right down."
     
    "Let me up," he said quickly, "Just for a minute."
     
    I sighed to myself. He probably wanted to see the shelf, and I'd be a real jerk if I refused, so I hit the button to unlock the downstairs entrance and waited at our front door for him to come up the stairs.
     
    I knew I was sunk as soon as our eyes met. I was drawn to him against my own will and my own good sense. He looked so downtrodden and so weary, I instinctively wanted to soothe it all away.
     
    The same struggle was clear on his face. His hands rose to touch me but stopped short as his face twisted as if in pain. "Riley."
     
    The sound of my name from his voice was enough to crack my resolve. Cursing to myself, I fell into his arms. He was ready - he grasped me tight and buried his face in my hair. “Riley,”