All the Broken Pieces: (Broken Series Book 3) by Anna Paige Page B

windows, then turned a questioning eye in my direction. “We’re here. What now?”
    Instead of answering, I opened my door and climbed out. Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I made my way to the back of the truck, smiling at the sound of Brant’s door closing.
    He met me at the rear of the truck and I motioned for him to drop the tailgate. He pulled the handle and we watched without comment as it slowly lowered to a horizontal position, the hydraulic arm hissing softly.
    I let out a startled yelp when he suddenly gripped my waist from behind and hoisted me high enough to climb into the bed. His grip was firm but not painful, and I kind of wished I’d been facing him when he picked me up so I could wrap my legs around him. As it was, I shifted around and sat on the edge of the tailgate and watched him climb up to sit beside me, both of us swinging our feet and looking out into the moonlight.
    Now that we were here, the rational side of my brain was winning the battle, meaning I was able to look over at him—at least for now—without wanting to mount his face. Time would tell whether or not good sense won the war.
    The mountain air was crisp, cooler than it should be in mid-September. With the cool weather making an early appearance, the trees would be changing colors any time. That was my favorite—the bright yellows and deep reds turning the mountains into a beautiful tapestry of color. It was Teach’s favorite too. And this year he wouldn’t see it. The leaves would change and drop to the ground without him there to witness it.
    A rustling off to my right caught my attention and I watched as a small furry form—a rabbit? I couldn’t be sure—peeked out of the tree line for a moment and then disappeared, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. The only sound that could be heard in the stillness was our breathing. It was quiet. Too quiet. With nothing else to focus on, the events of the last few days began forcing their way to the forefront of my mind, clogging my throat with grief.
    No, no. Not happening.
    “How about some music?” Brant asked, breaking the silence and practically reading my mind.
    “Absolutely.” I looked back at the cab of the truck. “Guess we should have thought of that before we got out, huh?”
    He shrugged it off, smiling. “Not at all.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket and fiddled with it a moment before handing it to me. “I can control the radio from here. I left the key turned to auxiliary, just in case. All you have to do is find something you want to hear and hit ‘play’.”
    I took the phone and looked through his music library, impressed by the level of trust it takes to just hand someone your unlocked phone. I couldn’t remember anyone ever having done that before, trusting me with something that personal. As I scrolled through the song list, I was even more impressed. He listened to a lot of the same stuff as me.
    “What?” he asked, amusement in his voice.
    I looked up at him. “Huh?”
    “You keep nodding and smiling as you go through my music. I take that to mean you approve?” His deep blue eyes glinted in the moonlight, nearly stealing my breath with their beauty. Their humor. Their fondness. That easy way he looked at me, like I was worth noticing, worth knowing.
    I cleared my throat and shrugged. “I guess. I mean, if we didn’t have at least somewhat similar tastes, I might have to rethink our friendship. I can’t be friends with someone who likes shitty music. It’s a rule of mine.”
    “So, I passed the test?”
    I nodded, trying to avoid those deep blue pools of temptation. “I think so. Anyone who owns every Thrill of the Chase album can’t be all bad.”
    That glimmer in his eyes was back, along with a wickedly beautiful grin. “You like TotC?”
    “They’re my absolute favorite band. I was into them before most people had even heard of them.” I said it with an air of proprietorship, like they belonged to me or something just