Breaking Without You: A Fractured Connections Novel

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Yet I was the one who’d made the stupidest mistakes when we were younger, so maybe Aiden was the wise one.

  We were brothers, the three fosters of the Connollys who’d become the three Connolly brothers.

  We’d been everything to each other, and then Rose passed away, and things didn’t seem as important anymore. Rose died, and some part of Jack faded with her. She was the only mother I’d ever known—in reality anyway. Oh, I remembered my birth mother, had seen her more than a few times, even after the adoption. But she didn’t have custody of us, had lost it because she preferred the needle or whatever she could stuff up her nose to the two twin boys that she had given birth to. Oh, yeah, Aiden and I came from great stock, products of a junkie and some John who knocked her up. It was something the kids on the playground always liked to make fun of us for.

  Snapping myself back to the present, I realized that I wasn’t alone in the backseat. It wasn’t something I could ignore, at least not over the past seven years. Or rather, he wasn’t something I could ignore.

  Dillon sat beside me, scowling at his phone as he played some game where he tried to milk cows or something. Yes, the eighteen-year-old who thought he was a master guitar player and who was now currently still staying with me because of obstacles out of my control was playing a farm game. Yes, it was one that I played when I was bored, but I wasn’t going to really think about that right then.

  “Did you finish your chores?” I asked, nudging Dillon with my arm.

  I didn’t fail to notice that Aiden stiffened in his seat, and Brendon’s hand tightened on the wheel.

  Dillon was the elephant in the room, the eighteen-year-old that hadn’t been a surprise to me but was a surprise to them.

  Yes, I was an asshole.

  But when your drug-addled mother comes to you and says she needs your help—and you go—you have to deal with the consequences. Aiden hadn’t gone. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with our birth mother. And I understood that. Even if I was pissed off at him and hated myself because I hated him sometimes, I got it. Our mother was a bitch, a liar, and a thief. I didn’t ever want to call her a whore, but others did.

  She had never been a good person. She had beat us, used us, and probably would have tried to sell us one day if she could.

  But she had needed help with another son.

  Dillon.

  My brother. Aiden’s brother.

  And while not by blood, maybe Brendon’s brother, too.

  And so, the elephant in the room, the boy who thought he was a man, currently sitting beside me. He looked up and nodded, even as his eyes narrowed, and he glared.

  He was such a little asshole sometimes, but then again, so was I. And I didn’t have the excuse of being a teenager.

  “I did. I wanted to get it done before we went. I didn’t know Allison, but she seemed like a nice lady from what others said. I’m sorry she’s gone.”

  And that was why I liked this kid. Maybe I even loved him, but I’d done a really good job of burying all of my emotions and feelings for the past seven years. But Dillon was good. Even if we’d both fucked up with the whole college thing.

  I wasn’t a dad, I’d never claimed to be, but I had failed when it came to Dillon. And he had failed himself, as well. The little shit had lied about planning for college, about submitting his applications and wanting to do everything himself.

  Instead, he had decided to move to LA, even though we were on the outskirts of it anyway when we lived in California. No, Dillon wanted to be the next big rock star in the greatest rock band of his generation. Though it wasn’t like I actually knew the names of current music groups anymore, so I couldn’t even say where Dillon got his influences.

  Then my kid brother’s little friends had decided that they were going to college because their parents had actually forced them to do their applications. Maybe if I had done the same, Dillon wouldn’t be forced to take a gap year. Or, perhaps, if Dillon hadn’t been a little liar, he wouldn’t be in the situation he was.

  “Allison’s a great woman,” Aiden said, his voice gruff. Dillon met my gaze, and I gave him a slight nod. Aiden coughed. “Was a great woman.”

  Aiden didn’t speak to Dillon often, and I didn’t blame him for that.

  When I went out to California to check on our mom, I’d found this kid—a boy who wasn’t quite as little as I thought. An eleven-year-old full of temper and hatred. So, I moved there to try and help. I’d tried to get in contact with Aiden during that time, attempted to tell him that we had a brother.

  But Aiden didn’t accept a single call. Not for a year.

  And I’d stopped trying.

  Because I had chosen our mother over Aiden—at least that’s how he saw it. So, I guess I deserved the fact that Aiden hated me.

  But Dillon didn’t deserve it. And so, the family drama that was the Connolly family was never-ending. Because Jack died too, damn it. Old Jack died and left the family business to us.

  A failing brewery that brought the Connolly brothers back together.

  And while Dillon might not be a Connolly, at least not in name and even though Jack and Rose had never met him, he was my brother. And I would just have to reconcile the fact that things were different now. And that I had no idea how to clean it up.

  We pulled up behind the brewery, and I winced at the fact that there were still a few spots open. It was early evening, it should be the start to the rush. There should be more cars in the parking lot. When we walked in, I held back another curse. There sure as hell should be more people sitting and having a brew. It was right about the time of the evening that the early people would come in for their beers. At least that’s how it’d always been for Jack and Rose.

  But not anymore.

  The place wasn’t actually a brewery anymore, it was a bar. It’d used to run craft brews before craft beer was a thing and I came into the family. The bar, however, had kept the name and the label, still selling their microbrews as well as some crafts and domestics that were the mainstay of most bars.

  The four of us went to the back, Dillon having already taken off his tie, Aiden and I pulling at ours. Corporate Brendon kept his on as if he’d been born in a suit. It was kind of funny considering that, as a kid, he’d never worn a suit and sometimes didn’t even wear two shoes. But I knew that Brendon sure as hell had a lot of shoes now.

  “So, what are we going to do now?” Brendon asked, sitting on one of the chairs in the private, back room.

  Aiden flipped the chair around and sat in it backwards before speaking. “Well, if we’re going to finally fucking talk, I guess we should try and fix this place. Because we can’t let Jack and Rose’s place go. The Connolly Brewery has always been part of this neighborhood. We’re not going to lose it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You say the ‘neighborhood’ as if it isn’t downtown Denver. Breweries come and go.” I knew that better than my brothers did since I’d owned my own with a partner back in California.

  “Shut the fuck up, Cameron.”

  Dillon’s wide gaze moved from me to Aiden and then to Brendon before going back to his game. Dillon was here because I was his guardian. It didn’t matter that the kid was eighteen now and didn’t technically need a guardian. He lived with me, and I wasn’t about to let him go home alone where I couldn’t watch him. So, that meant Dillon was part of these family discussions. Because, damn it, Dillon was my family. I’d just have to figure out how to put all of the rest of it back together again.

  “The bar is failing, it’s in the red, and we’re going to have to change that. I know the three of us moved back because Jack asked us to in the will, and so we’re here, but it’s been a few months now, and we haven’t done anything. We’ll have to start doing it. Cameron, I know that you sold your half of the brewery back in California to move out here, so what are you going to do now?”

  “What I’ve been doing. Working behind the bar.” I’d moved back after Jack’s death, and I’d done my best to keep th
e bar running since. Then Brendon returned. It had taken him a little longer to wrap up everything with his personal life.

  Aiden had just arrived, finally leaving the restaurant he so desperately craved to be a part of. I didn’t know the story behind it and, damn it, I wished I did. Because that would mean Aiden was actually fucking talking to me.

  “There needs to be some changes,” Brendon said quietly. “We can’t keep it open like this.”

  “Just shut up,” I said, running my hand through my hair. “Just…not now. Not the day we buried Allison.”

  Aiden narrowed his eyes. “Really? You’re going to be the one to bring her up?”

  “Because you haven’t yet. But I know it’s on your mind. Let’s just take today. We just need today.”

  “You’re the one who said that when we lost Jack. You’re the one who said we needed that day, needed some time. Well, enough time has passed.” Brendon stood up, shaking his head. “And, you’re right, I’ll give you today. But, tomorrow? Tomorrow, we’re going to figure out what the fuck we’re doing. Because tomorrow might be the beginning of the end when it comes to this place. And I don’t want that to happen. You may think I do because I wear a suit and I have a different job than you. But I love this place. It’s our home. And we left that. We left Jack behind. So, now, we have to fix it.”

  Brendon stormed out, and Aiden left right on his tail. I looked over at Dillon, who was doing his best to just stare at his phone. There weren’t any games on it this time. Just a blank screen.

  “Let’s go home.”

  “It’s weird calling it home. We’re not even out of boxes yet.”

  “You’re right, kid. I guess we should fix that.”

  “I’m not a kid.”

  I shrugged. “Jack always called me ‘kid.’ Even when I was in college.” I winced, but Dillon didn’t say anything. I probably shouldn’t bring up the college thing, but now that it was out there, I continued. “We’ll get on that, too. We’ll get on everything. I guess our time of mourning Jack and what we all had is over. Probably has been since we walked into the place. You know? We’ll get it done. We have to.”

  And I knew we would.

  I’d save the brewery.

  I’d save Dillon.

  As thoughts of Violet’s wide eyes brimming with tears filled my mind, I hesitated. It wasn’t my place to save her, but maybe if I weren’t such an idiot, I could fix what I broke there, as well.

  Maybe it was time. Maybe it was past time.

  Chapter Three

  People are the worst. But you’re still my person

  - Allison in a text to Violet

  * * *

  Violet

  I loved my job. I truly did. But on days where all I had was headaches, false starts, and the inability to focus, I didn’t know if I actually liked it.

  No, that wasn’t really the case. I just didn’t like my life at the moment. I didn’t hate my job, I just really hated this day.

  I was exhausted, mostly because I hadn’t slept the night before and because it took so much extra energy to remain happy and appear whole these days. My brain still ached just thinking about Allison and everything that had come with that. My heart hurt, my body hurt…everything hurt just thinking about my best friend.

  Coming home after crying on Cameron’s shoulder, or rather his entire chest hadn’t helped things. I came home after practically running from him and had fallen into my migraine spiral. I was used to them, and they came often. No amount of hormones or Botox or drugs could help my migraines. They were just a part of me and something that even my boss knew about. Thankfully, his wife suffered from debilitating migraines as well, so he understood, and we worked around my illness when it came to my job. I wasn’t really sure how it would have worked if he weren’t so accommodating. What wasn’t helpful was the fact that not everybody understood my migraines, and some—mostly the woman who sometimes shared my lab bench—thought me being home and having extra time was because of something else.

  She thought the fact that I sometimes needed to stay at home, trying not to throw up all day because I couldn’t see straight, had to do with her. Yes, I came in and worked on weekends. I worked long hours when needed. I got my work done, no matter the cost or the time.

  But Lynn always thought it was about her. After all, we had been friends for a few years before we ended up not being friends anymore. But it wasn’t really my fault. She was currently married to my ex-husband and had been with him before he was my ex.

  Yes, I had somehow become a cliché. I’d married someone who I thought was a decent guy, a man I thought I loved. And maybe I did love him. But he didn’t love me the way he should. We were married for eight months. Eight freaking months where I’d thought I was doing okay. But everything had changed over a year ago. Everything fell apart.

  Kent Broadway had cheated on me. I should have known a man named Kent would do something like that. I tried to go with the whole Superman/Clark Kent thing, but, every Kent in every book and TV show I’d ever seen or read other than Superman was an asshole. Maybe there were good Kents in the world, but not mine. I know I shouldn’t call him my Kent. There was nothing my about that Kent.

  So now, Kent and Lynn were together. Married. And good for them. Because I didn’t have to think about him anymore. Ever.

  Okay, I had to think about him every day I was at work because I was an environmental chemist and worked my ass off alongside another in the field. Lynn.

  I had been the one to introduce Kent and Lynn, and they’d hit it off. I’d been so happy that my work friend and my husband were friendly. Because that didn’t always work out. I really hadn’t been friends with any of Kent’s coworkers or their wives. We just hadn’t meshed. But that was fine. You were allowed not to get along with everybody in your life. But, apparently, the two people I introduced had gotten along a little too well. And that made me a little sick. I hated the idea that I had to work alongside the woman who’d taken the man I didn’t even love anymore. I wasn’t even sure I ever truly loved Kent. And maybe that was on me. But, mostly, it was just the whole situation. It made me feel weird and like I was messing things up.

  But I was getting used to it. Kent and Lynn had been married a month, and Lynn was finally back to work after her long honeymoon and vacation. The two of them had taken a three-week trip all over Europe. While there, she had posted all sorts of photos on social media, and even though she had unfriended me, our mutual coworkers were constantly commenting on the pictures. Therefore, I saw them. It wasn’t like I tried to run away from it, but it was hard to pretend that I was okay. I really wasn’t anymore. Everything was falling apart around me, and yet it had nothing to do with Lynn or Kent.

  That was in the past. I had been divorced for a year now, and that really wasn’t what was on my mind.

  No, what was constantly on my mind was the fact that Allison was dead, and there was nothing I could do about it. And the fact that I had felt more of a connection with Cameron after I yelled at and cried on him than I had ever felt with Kent.

  And what did that say about me?

  How self-centered was I, that those were the two things on my mind? And not because of what they were, but because of how they revolved around me.

  Why didn’t I see that Allison needed help? Why couldn’t I see that she was drowning?

  Why couldn’t I foresee that she wasn’t going to be here anymore because of something inside of her? I hadn’t seen any of that. What did that say about me?

  No, it wasn’t truly about me, but maybe I’d been selfish enough that I missed the warning signs. Or maybe there hadn’t been any warning signs at all, and I was just reaching for answers to something I couldn’t change.

  And then, added to all of that, I was worried that Kent had cheated on me because it was my fault.

  God, there was something truly wrong with me today if that was where my mind had gone.

  Because it didn’t matter that I’d had a connection with C
ameron when we were younger. It didn’t matter that I had loved him with all my heart. I had fallen out of love with him when he broke me into a million pieces. When he shattered me like glass against stone.

  I was dust in the wind when it came to my relationship with Cameron. It didn’t matter that he was still sexy as hell and had no right to be. It didn’t matter that I still felt that little pulse inside my gut when he held me. It didn’t matter at all.

  Because I was not with him, and I was never going to be with him. He didn’t fucking matter.

  Yes, I had loved Kent. No, I wasn’t in love with him, and yes, I had fallen out of love with him faster than I had with Cameron, but maybe that was for a reason. People loved others differently. Every relationship was different. Maybe I had the most the first time, so I wasn’t going to hurt as much the second time. Or maybe I was just tired and needed to stop whining to myself. It was stupid.

  I was feeling stupid.

  “Violet, darling? Is everything okay?”

  That set my teeth on edge. Darling. Lynn calling me darling. She hadn’t called me that when we were just friends before she became a two-timing tramp.

  Oh, God, why did I think that?

  It didn’t matter that she had cheated. It didn’t matter that she had helped my husband commit adultery. I should not call her a tramp. Calling other women names was wrong.

  And yet, I still hated her.

  Even if I didn’t want to. Even if I didn’t really feel that deep of an emotion and was more just blah when it came to Lynn. I honestly didn’t really feel anything about her. Maybe I should be more ragey. Or perhaps I was losing my freaking mind.

  “What was that?”

  I tried not to say her name, mostly because when I did, she gave me this sad, puppy-dog look like she was worried about me. Why should she be worried? She was the one who had to sleep with Kent for the rest of her life. She was the one who would have to go down on him because that’s how he liked to orgasm. He never liked to come during intercourse.