Breaking Without You: A Fractured Connections Novel

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  I folded my hands over my chest, anger coursing through me. Not directly at Brendon, but he was in front of me, and that meant he got the brunt of it. “You say that, but I’m thinking that maybe we should be helping you out there because you doing it on your own clearly isn’t working.”

  Brendon froze and stared at me. “Seriously? You’re just going to kick me out, just like that?”

  “Didn’t say that. But you had one job and, apparently, you’re not doing it right.”

  “That’s the problem. I have more than one job. We’re all floundering here, and I don’t know what to do with this place. Nothing that works for my other businesses is working on this.”

  “Because that’s the food service industry,” Aiden said as he stormed into the office. “And you know how the food service industry is. Yes, you’re a brilliant businessman, but you know that food service is completely different than anything else.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I try not to dip my toes into those waters.”

  “Well, you’re already dipped. You’ve done a whole dunk into the damn thing. We grew up here, Brendon.” I started pacing the office, anger rising in my chest. “Why can’t we get this right? We’re not fucking idiots.”

  “Yeah, well, doesn’t seem the case right now,” Aiden muttered under his breath, and I turned on him.

  “Just stop it. This is getting frustrating. We’re trying little things, trying to bring this place up, but the problem is that people just don’t come in here anymore. They go to the other four hundred places that are within walking distance.”

  “Maybe we can get one of those apps and do takeout orders or something?” Brendon muttered under his breath, starting to take notes on his phone. “Or try different ways to get people coming in like another wing night.”

  I knew Brendon wasn’t talking to me, just brainstorming ideas off the top of his head, but it was still frustrating. “I don’t want to close this place, but we’re not working together, and it’s fucking us over. Don’t you get that?” I rubbed my hand on my shoulder and continued to pace.

  “Well, of course, we’re not working together. We don’t even like each other.” Aiden shook his head and leaned against the door frame.

  “I don’t not like you guys,” I said, my voice low.

  “Yeah, that’s not really a ringing endorsement,” Brendon said, smoothly. “I happen to like both of you, you’re my fucking brothers. I’m the only one out of the three of us, no, make that four of us, who’s not blood-related to you guys, but I actually like you. I want to make sure that this family doesn’t blow up. We are a fucking family, and we’re not doing anything about it. Yeah, you ran away, Cameron, because you had things to do, but you didn’t come back until now. You didn’t come to us when you needed us.”

  I stared at Brendon, wondering where this had come from, and at the same time knowing it was probably overdue.

  “I tried to come to both of you. You ignored me.”

  “Because I was angry with you, but then you never answered my calls either.”

  “I just can’t, I can’t with either of you,” I grumbled and tried to catch my breath.

  “Then why don’t you just leave?” Aiden snapped. “You’re very good at that. That much I can remember. So just leave. Go home and find another place to work. If you hate it here so much, then just go.”

  I rolled on my twin, wondering what the fuck had happened. Because this wasn’t just me. This wasn’t about me leaving to go take care of Dillon. This was something more, and I didn’t get it. But I didn’t know how to ask Aiden because I knew that my twin wouldn’t answer anyway.

  Maybe there were just some things that blood couldn’t fix.

  “I can go,” Dillon said from the doorway. I hadn’t even known the little asshole was there, and now I was afraid that somehow Dillon had heard too much, even though we hadn’t even mentioned him. Not really.

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “If me being here is screwing everything up, I can go. I have friends. I can find somewhere to stay.” The kid raised his chin, and I knew that it was taking everything within him to actually say the words.

  “You’re not going anywhere. You’re part of this, too.”

  Aiden flinched ever so slightly, and I wanted to punch the asshole. Didn’t Aiden see that Dillon needed people? That Dillon was one of us?

  Then I paused, wondering if I saw it. Because none of us were actually talking to one another. We were talking over each other, fighting about what we couldn’t fix. Arguing over something that wasn’t there anymore.

  Brendon started yelling, saying something about numbers that made no sense to me. Oh, it probably would have made sense if I were actually listening, but I was focused on looking at Aiden and the way he was not looking at Dillon.

  What the fuck were we doing?

  Why couldn’t we just talk and work this out?

  Then I remembered living on the street when we were younger, holding Aiden close because we were so scared and didn’t know where we were going to get our next meal. I remembered going from one home to another, trying not to get beat up by one of the foster dads, or touched by one of the foster moms—or another foster dad.

  I remembered being stripped from Aiden’s arms, screaming and reaching out to him even as he reached out to me.

  I remembered wondering when I would see my brother again—if at all.

  I remembered eating a worm out of the dirt one day when I was so hungry I couldn’t stand it, and that was the only thing I could think of to do.

  I remembered finally seeing my brother again after so long, when really it had only been about a year or so—maybe even less. I hadn’t been able to count the days because I wasn’t able to go to school like I should have.

  I hadn’t seen a calendar or known exactly how many hours had passed since I last saw my brother.

  But over the years I was away from him again, I knew exactly how many days had passed. How many months.

  I knew because I had helped put that distance between us.

  And I didn’t know how to put us back together again.

  Because it wasn’t just me anymore. It was Dillon. Dillon deserved to know Aiden. He deserved to have a future. Yes, both of us had screwed up because we didn’t know what we were doing in terms of this whole growing-up thing. But we were learning it together. I just never thought that I would be learning it with only the two of us and not with my other brothers.

  I needed to fix that. Because this was fracturing. It wasn’t the walls of the bar cracking, it wasn’t the fact that the business was failing.

  It was us. We were.

  And we wouldn’t be able to fix anything else until we fixed ourselves.

  But with the way Aiden’s jaw was set, and the way Brendon kept pacing back to his phone as if he were doing two thousand things at once and not able to focus on what was in front of him, I knew that today wasn’t going to be that day. So, I let out a breath and nodded at Dillon so the two of us could leave.

  “You always leave,” Aiden shouted at my back. “That’s what you’re good at.”

  I stopped where I was, knowing that if I said anything in the mood I was in, I would fuck things up again. But I couldn’t help it. Fucking things up is what I was good at.

  “At least I was fucking there for him. You weren’t. You didn’t have the balls to even try.”

  Aiden looked like I had punched him. And maybe I had in a way.

  Brendon finally looked up from his phone, his eyes wide, his jaw a little slack.

  And then I turned on my heel and walked away again, putting my hand on Dillon’s shoulder so he knew that he wasn’t alone.

  I’d come back to the bar later and work my shift, but that’s all it was. A job. I didn’t feel like this place was mine. Didn’t feel like this place was anyone’s, really.

  We were going to lose it because we couldn’t figure out what to do with each other, let alone the business.

  And,
yes, that was ignorant and probably stupid.

  But there were some wounds you couldn’t heal. There were some things you just couldn’t fix. And as I thought about the woman who had been in my bed this morning, I realized that maybe that was true for more than just my family, more than just this business.

  Maybe it was true for everything I touched.

  Maybe I just couldn’t fix anything because I wasn’t worth fixing.

  Chapter Eleven

  I wish I could strangle your brain sometimes. Out of love. Because screw migraines.

  - Allison in a text to Violet

  Violet

  There was a special place in hell for overhead lighting, the sunlight that was streaming through my open curtains, and any form of light on any electronic device I owned.

  Yes, I was slowly losing my mind because of everyday things, such as light.

  Let there be light, my ass.

  Bile rose in my throat, and I staggered my way around my living room, doing my best to keep my eyes shut as I drew my curtains closed.

  When I decorated this house, I had known that I had a migraine issue. I’d had it since I was a teenager, and no amount of Botox shots or any other meds seemed to help. Oh, they would help for the short-term, but it was like my body got used to them, and then I would get another migraine the next month that would set me back even more.

  So, I had made sure that I had beautiful curtains that looked decorative but were also able to block out any form of light that could come at me.

  So, while sunlight was the thing of the devil, my blackout curtains were peace.

  At least, part of that peace.

  I rummaged around, trying to ignore every single sound that I was making since it seemed amplified right then, and found the scarves and other sheets that I used to cover my lampshades and other things around my house.

  I still needed some light to function, but I could mute it as much as possible.

  In the end, my house would resemble a den of iniquity, but I didn’t care because, somehow, it gave me comfort.

  Not that I was anywhere near comfortable just then, but I could at least try to improve my mood.

  My stomach grumbled, and then I almost threw up, knowing that while I was hungry since I hadn’t eaten in over a day, there was no way I could swallow anything. Just the idea of anything more than water—and water was a lot at this point—would be too much for me.

  I had gotten home from Cameron’s the day before and had fallen face-first onto the couch, groaning as my head started to ache.

  I didn’t even have time to think about the fact that my heart ached or that anything else a little lower ached, as well. I was too busy trying not to throw up on myself because everything hurt. Thankfully, I had fallen asleep, but I had done so with the curtains open and a single lamp on. That first burst of light into my eyes when I opened them after my very horrible rest had been too much for me, and I had thrown up right on my carpet.

  I was usually better at preparing myself, but I was so out of sorts from everything that had happened, that I was clearly too many steps behind on this migraine.

  “I just want to go to bed,” I whispered to myself, but then I winced because I had been far too loud. Even a whisper was too much.

  Everything seemed like it was too much.

  I staggered around my house again, finishing up the clean-up on my rug. I had started it before and then had gotten nauseous and had to take care of my stomach again before I could finish cleaning.

  Doing anything while suffering from a migraine hurt, and it was almost too much to bear, but cleaning up after yourself because you got sick because you were in pain? That was one of the worst things.

  Thankfully, it was still the weekend, and I didn’t have to work until tomorrow. But I really didn’t know if I was going to be up for even that. Though it wasn’t like I could just call in sick and say that I would try to catch up.

  I already had to catch up on work that I had been a little slow on because I was so in my head when it came to Allison.

  And Cameron. But I wasn’t going to think about him.

  I couldn’t.

  Regardless, I felt like I was losing my wits and everything else because I was just not up to being the Violet that I needed to be.

  Just thinking about the fact that I had to work tomorrow not only made me nauseous again but also reminded me that I didn’t know when or if I was going to get my next set of grants. With the random shutdowns that kept happening in the government, I knew that my funding was going to come to a close soon.

  So, I was making sure that I had backup plans in place when it came to working with the university. Though I didn’t want to only teach. Yes, I liked it while I was doing it, but I really enjoyed the research side more.

  But there wasn’t a lot of money for me to keep doing it these days. There wasn’t enough money for any of us.

  And on that depressing thought, I put my hands over my eyes and laid down on the couch again.

  The house smelled of cleaning products and my own stench that I really didn’t want to think about. But I didn’t even want to take a shower, just the thought of the action was too much for me. My skin hurt. Everything hurt. My hair hurt.

  I didn’t even know that it was possible for someone’s hair to hurt this much, but here I was.

  Everything just hurt.

  And because I needed to be in the middle of the house just in case I had to get water or rush to the restroom or do just about anything other than sleep and pretend that everything was fine, that meant I had to stay in the living room.

  I hated whining, but that’s all I could really do with a migraine.

  It wasn’t just a simple little headache like the media might have you think. People that said, “oh, no, I’m getting a migraine. This really hurts,” really didn’t understand that sometimes that was just a headache.

  And, yes, headaches were horrible, and they sucked, but they were nothing like a debilitating migraine.

  I’d had them for most of my life, and I was still trying to figure out exactly how to get through them.

  I remembered the last time I’d had one of the worst ones ever. I had been down in Colorado Springs, supposed to be watching my brother’s daughter, Daisy. Daisy had gotten sick herself, and my brother hadn’t been answering his phone. That meant that I had to call his—at the time—ex-girlfriend to come and pick Daisy up and take her to the hospital. Thankfully, Adrienne had rushed to help, and she had been on all the call sheets for Daisy at the doctor already.

  And, even more thankfully, Adrienne and Mace were now together, happy, and getting married.

  At one point, I used to think that I maybe helped in that a little, but I didn’t really want to rely on my migraines to keep my family happily in love.

  And now I was losing my mind because that’s where my thoughts had gone.

  I was just about to fall asleep again when there was a soft tap at the door. I wanted to groan.

  Maybe it was the UPS man with my latest Amazon shipment. It didn’t matter that I had a Prime addiction, Amazon was my everything. Of course, I didn’t remember Prime shopping, but that was the deal with Amazon. Sometimes, you just opened your door and there was a package that you had forgotten you ordered.

  I just lay there, hoping that whoever it was would go away, but then there was the sound of a key in the door and the lock turning.

  There were only a few people with keys to my house—my parents, Mace, Sienna, Harmony, and my neighbor, Meadow.

  The latter, it seemed, was who it was, because she walked in, tiptoeing inside the house with a frown on her face. I forced one eye open so I could get a good look at her, wondering why she was here.

  “I’m sorry, I watched you staggering into the house yesterday, and I haven’t actually seen anyone moving inside since,” Meadow said softly as she came closer. And it was then that I realized that she had a whole box of things with her, and it wasn’t from Amazon.

 
No, Meadow wasn’t a good friend, but she was a friend nonetheless. I didn’t really know her all that well, other than the fact that she was always there for me when I was having a bad migraine. Meadow worked from home, and her office window faced my house. And because she actually liked light—while I hated it today—that meant that, sometimes, she couldn’t help but notice when I came home or left.

  I remembered that Meadow wrote textbooks or something, or maybe she edited them. She also tutored when she wasn’t working on those. I couldn’t imagine reading right now, all I wanted to do was go back to bed. Or throw up. Or maybe try for some water. Nope. That just made me want to vomit again.

  “Hi,” I croaked. Keeping my eyes closed.

  “I just wanted to drop off some things in case you’re ready to eat later. And I figured I’d clean up around here as quietly as I could if you needed me. Then, if you need to wash your hair or do anything else, I’m here for you.”

  Meadow started puttering around, and I held back a smile. Not because I didn’t want to smile, but because that action would probably hurt. Everything hurt.

  Meadow was about my age, gorgeous, and single. I didn’t know why she didn’t have someone special, other than the fact that maybe she just didn’t meet many people because she never left her house.

  Of course, not leaving the house would probably be a nice thing because I didn’t want to leave my house just then. Every time I did, I had to deal with more drama. Situations that I put myself into, I remembered.

  No, my work drama really wasn’t my fault. Neither was the fact that Lynn was there and had been texting me all weekend.

  I’d ignored most of them because I had been sleeping, but she kept wanting to check in on me, making sure that everything was fine with our working relationship.

  It was all a little too much, and I couldn’t focus on anything. So, I wasn’t going to focus on any of it at all.