Finally Unbroken Series Book One
Maria Macdonald
Finally Unbroken
Finally Unbroken Series Book One
Maria Macdonald
Copyright 2016 Maria Macdonald
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
Editing by Swish Design & Editing
Formatting by Swish Design & Editing
Cover design by Francessca’s Romance Reviews
Cover Image Copyright 2016
This book is dedicated to three special souls.
I started this book when I was still writing the Entwined Hearts series. I’ve had a lot of support throughout this last year. None more so than from the beautiful Beth LeMilliere. Therefore, she’s the first person I thought about when a dedication was needed.
Beth… I butterflying love you! You are the skittles!
There were two others that were at the forefront of my mind, mainly because these two have championed this book since the beginning. Loving the characters and the story endlessly.
Annmarie Thomson and Kerry Adamson.
You both loved this book even when I wanted to give up. When I was drained, you spurred me on. Always asking for the next chapter and telling me how much you loved this story.
Danny and Anabel belong to you.
“A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks.”
~Richard Bach~
I’d known my soulmate, my best friend, my sister, forever. No span of distance nor time would ever change that. Even as I trudged through my colorless life. Loneliness and isolation snapping at my heels. I always had her as my North Star.
Now I know I’m going to lose her—my soulmate—and I have to learn to lean on the only man I’ve ever loved. The one who pushed me away… just to survive.
The life I once dreamed about has been washed away in a sea of regret. People from my past are appearing in my present, hoping to remain in my future. Each day I draw strength from my history.
I have to learn to live again, to have hope again and to love again.
She wants me to trust him. He wants another chance. I just want the strength to move on with my new life.
All I have to do now is take my hands off the safety bars... and have a little faith.
Dedication
Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Play List
Connect with Me Online
About the Author – Maria MacDonald
Sometimes the stories suffocate us.
By writing the words for others to read,
We let the stories fly free...
Allowing us to breathe again.
“Anabel, where the fuck is my beer?” I hear bellowing through the house. I use the term house loosely, it’s more like a ramshackle hut. It had belonged to Keith’s parents before they died. Now, I guess, it’s ours—well, his.
Wrapping my arms around me, I feel cold all over as I hang my head, staring at the bubbles in the sink, watching them slowly pop in the dirty water. Shivering, I wonder now how my life became this, and if, one day, I might be like one of these bubbles and just pop, ceasing to exist.
“Do I have to get it myself!” he shouts again.
I jump into action, not even drying my hands before opening the fridge and grabbing his beer, almost jogging to get it to him as quickly as possible. The house is only tiny, so it’s not far to go, it’s more about the abuse I’ll get if I don’t act quickly.
“Here you go,” I murmur, handing him the beer. He doesn’t even glance away from the television.
“About fucking time,” he grinds out, followed by, “Have you done the dishes yet? I told you earlier to clean my car as well, don’t forget.”
I sigh silently. “Nearly done, I’ll get on your car real soon, I promise.” At my reply, he mumbles something that can’t be deciphered. Twisting around, I rush back to finish washing the dishes so I can start on his car.
It wasn’t always like this. We were actually once in love. If you can believe that. Keith used to be the quarterback while I was the quiet, nerdy girl. Our school life should have dictated that we could never be, but in the end, the popular girls didn’t get him and I was the one that ‘won’. The one that beat the cheerleader to get the guy. The one you always read about and assume there’s a happily ever after. Looking at Keith now, the only parts of him that remain the same are his eyes and height. He’s still tall at six foot two, his dark blond locks have grown into a gray, blond, greasy mix over the years. His build although large is less defined, stodgier. His teeth have yellowed from the tobacco he smokes, and he rarely smells of anything other than beer these days.
The thing is, none of that bothers me. I would have loved him anyway, just for his bright bluish-gray eyes and his reciprocation of love. But even his eyes are hard and cold now, and that teamed with his personality over the last ten years, I know I’ll never love him again.
Keith’s never hit me, never raised a finger to physically hurt me. I should be thankful of that. However, I’ve learnt over the years, there are many ways to break someone. So many other ways to pull someone down, to make them bleed, just not on the outside.
Emptying the water and bubbles from the sink then walking over to open the back door, I grab the bucket and sponge. Spinning around, I catch myself in the mirror. My long thick blond hair hangs lank and lifeless. I really need a good cut and style, it could use a color too as I’m getting the odd wispy stray gray hair dotted along my hairline. I kind of think it’s pretty, I’m probably the only woman that does. Still, it’s a sign of aging and there’s nothing wrong with that. My green eyes look sad surrounded by pale skin with the odd wrinkle. I’m lucky my appearance isn’t as bad as it could be.
I got the guy at high school and he married me. I don’t feel lucky, though, not really, not with what he’s turned into. It could have been worse, at least, most of the cheerleaders that still live in this town look a lot more haggard than me.
That really shouldn’t make me feel better, someone else’s hardship
isn’t for me to comment on. It’s not like the way he treats me isn’t common knowledge, they probably have a good laugh at my expense.
Little Anabel didn’t actually win in the end, huh?
When we were younger, Keith would drive around town with me in his truck, proud that I was on his arm. He used to tell me how beautiful I was, he used to stroke my face and kiss my temple softly when he was dropping me home. We would lie in the truck bed and watch the stars in between making out.
Before I realize it the tears are softly falling, slipping down my cheeks and dropping on the floor looking like raindrops splashing from above. Bending down, I wipe them away with the sponge. I’m not crying because I still love him, I’m crying for everything I once had but lost. He used to hang the stars for me. I can’t believe I could’ve been so wrong about someone I willingly gave my heart to. It shows how well I judge people. I’ve wanted to leave him for years. There’s just no way of achieving that goal now.
My pop died twelve years ago, my mom ten months later, leaving me with no family—except him. My friends from high school all left this town one by one, moving onto better things, things I missed out on because Keith wanted me to be a housewife and nothing more, and I allowed myself to believe his dreams were my dreams. Now all my friends are his friends, which basically means I have nobody.
No job.
No friends.
No family.
So I’m stuck.
Some would say, that’s not a good enough reason to stay. That I should be brave, but I’m not brave. I used to be. Even with being the quiet girl in high school, there was a reason I won Keith, a reason he noticed me. It was because I was brave. I would talk to him. It was frowned upon by the popular girls. How dare someone in my social circle be so brazen as to talk to one of the jocks? Gasp! But I’d do it anyway. He would come into my parents’ ice cream store with his friends and he was always nice to me, unlike most of the others.
I remember one of the first times he noticed me. I was working by myself, as it was a Saturday and the weekend manager, who was only four years older than me, had called in sick. I’d decided not to call my pop, who worked all week and deserved a break. It was heading toward two in the afternoon when the popular crowd filtered in. Throwing my shoulders back and raising my head, I readied myself to serve them, without feeling inferior or blushing.
When I got to Danny Quinn and asked him what he wanted, he smirked. “How about you, there must be a room out back?”
“Sorry, not for sale,” I replied with a wink. He’d always joked with me, so I knew that with Danny it was light-hearted fun.
“That’s not what I heard,” Ashley Summers whisper-yelled to the group, who were all standing to the right. Of course, the girls all tittered, a couple of the guys laughed, the rest just had smiles on their faces.
Danny frowned and I was about to ask him what ice-cream he wanted when Jenny Yates chipped in with, “Yeah, it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for. They’re usually the biggest tramps.”
Before her sentence was finished one of the other girls, Samantha Watkins added, “I always wondered how this place stayed afloat in the winter.” At this point, the tears pooled in my eyes. I turned to Danny, his face was a picture of stone, I was about to tell him to get his friends out of my shop when Keith piped up, “Shut up you douches. I like this place, stop acting like jealous bitches just because blondie over there is hot.”
“Anabel,” Danny forced out but nobody listened, and I briefly wondered how he knew my actual name.
“Oh, but Keith, baby, we were only playing,” Ashley purred to him with a smirk.
“Well then, say sorry to Blondie and let’s go,” he replied to her, then looked over at me and winked.
From that wink, I was gone for him, or I thought I was. I couldn’t see anyone other than Keith—my hero. Pity his hero status didn’t last a year past us getting hitched. Still we had three relatively good years. Two dating and then the one married before it started turning to complete shit.
Of course, I know why it went the way it did, and really it’s not Keith’s fault. We tried, unsuccessfully, to have kids. At first, we tried a lot, over time that died, along with the passion. It didn’t happen, I couldn’t seem to get pregnant. After a while Keith became bitter, he had always wanted kids and he believed I couldn’t give him them. We’d been trying for about three months before the wedding too, so in total it had been about nine months. I didn’t think that was very long, but he did. So he used me as his emotional battering ram when he was depressed. I took it because I felt bad. He still looked after me in most ways, and we were still having sex. Then my pop had a heart attack and died and that caused me to spiral downhill. When my mom died from a stroke just ten months later, I lost it completely.
Keith wanted me to sell their shop. I wanted to keep it, but he won—as usual. I felt like a piece of me was torn away the day I finally accepted I was losing my small haven. I still feel that emptiness.
The shop sold almost straight away, but I never knew who had bought it. The sale was done through a realtor, nobody ever moved in. It’s still empty now. The realtor and Keith have no idea that I still have a key, and sometimes, I slip in the back door and sit in the kitchen, remembering all those years ago. A time long since passed.
When Keith’s parents died in a car accident a year after my mom that was the end of whatever shreds of a relationship we had left. There was no more lovemaking, there wasn’t even sex. There were no more tender kisses, there were no kisses at all. No soft words just bitterness and resentment fueled by alcohol. Although, he was like it even without the help of alcohol, just not quite as bad.
I’ve lived no life for ten years. The only orgasm I’ve had is from my own hand. The little human contact I’m allowed is with Keith—if you can call it human—or his friends who are almost as bad as he is. There’s Pastor Wilson and his wife. They knew my parent’s really well and are lovely, but they are also seventy-five years old at least, so they can’t do much to help me, and they aren’t the partying type. Although, these days, I don’t think I’m the partying type either. I’ve missed out on so much that life has to offer. It’s like I should be eighty-five and in retirement. When in reality I’m only thirty-one. That’s not that old…is it?
Keith still has his friends, well some of them. Danny left town right after high school and is an athlete, but I don’t follow sports, so have no idea what he’s doing or where he is. Rubén was another of his friends. He left town and went on to college, he’s some big business owner doing advertising or something. Keith and his friends regularly bitch about them, though. Apparently, you’re not allowed to leave this town and make something of yourself.
The women of the group didn’t fare so well. Ashley got pregnant within two years of high school ending, which put a halt on community college. Whoever the father was, he didn’t stick around. Jenny married Keith’s friend Tommy. She likes a drink and to sleep around, which means Tommy lays into her. Not just verbally either. Samantha works as a hairdresser. She’s never married but is a serial dater. She’s probably better off than me, though.
“Are you washing my fucking car yet? Or are going to be a lazy bitch all day?” Keith shouts.
I forgot.
I was reminiscing about everything, and it slipped my mind.
I forgot my place.
“Mr. Quinn your wife is on line one.”
Looking up from the pile of paperwork that I was trying to sieve through, my answer is sharp. “Not my wife, Layla.”
“Oh yes, sorry, sir,” she says, her cheeks pinking as she backs out of the door.
The truth is technically she is still my wife, but I haven’t considered her as such for a long time.
“Shannon,” I say, my voice flat as I answer the phone
“Danny, what the fuck!” is the reply screeching down the line. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I stand up and walk toward the floor to ceiling glass wall. Placing my arm ab
ove me, against the window for support, I rest my forehead on the cool glass. Staring outside, I look over the lunch hour rush of San Francisco city while mentally preparing myself for whatever nasty words she’s about to vomit. “I’ve just got a letter from your attorney. She’s saying you’re going to pay me fifty thousand dollars, and that’s it…” she pauses, but I know it’s just to take a breath before she carries on, “…that’s it? What the fuck, Dan?” I hate her calling me Dan and she knows it. “You’re worth millions. And I’m not getting any alimony either because you so cleverly made sure I signed that damn prenup before we married. If you think you’re going to get me off your back for fifty K, then you’re wrong Dan… so wrong!” She waits for my reaction, but I’m not going to give her any.
“We shouldn’t be talking, other than through our attorneys, Shannon. If you have an issue, from now on, I suggest you talk to Ms Deakin.”
“Oh, I bet you’d love that wouldn’t you? Are you fucking her? You fucking ass!” she screams down the phone then hangs up.
I stay still, unclenching my muscles and trying not to crack the phone as my fingers spasm around it. Closing my eyes and sighing, I take a minute to calm down, then walk back to my desk. Pressing the intercom, I buzz for Layla. After a few moments, she knocks and walks in.
“Sir?”
“Layla, could you arrange for me to have all the documentation for the archived project please.” She nods and rushes away. Within a few minutes, she knocks again bringing the paperwork. “Thank you, Layla. I’ll need travel arranged. I want you to get me the first flight out. Book a hotel, too,” I tell her looking through the documents. When I don’t hear the door close, I glance up but she’s still standing there. “Layla?”
“You’re going back?” she asks cautiously.
“I am.”
“Are you sure?” she queries.
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