Without Regret (Broken Roads Book 1)

by Cat Mason

  Without Regret

  Cat Mason

  Broken Roads Series

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also Available By Cat Mason:

  Without Regret

  Broken Roads Series

  Book One

  By Cat Mason

  All Rights Reserved. This work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, photographic) in part or whole without expressed written consent from Amy Cox a.k.a. Cat Mason.

  This is a work of Fiction. All characters, organizations, brands, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons living or deceased is completely coincidental.

  First Edition: Published as Changing Fate by Amy Cox: Copyright © 2013

  Renamed, edited, and polished for rerelease.

  Second Edition: Without Regret: Copyright © Cat Mason Books 2016

  Cover Image and Design By: DRC Promotions

  Editing By: Asli Fratarcangeli

  To my real life ‘Tim’ and ‘Ray’.

  You two made it possible for me to see the good, the bad, the ugly, and the pieces I needed to embrace or let go of. I would have never gotten to the place I am today without having each of you in my life. It was not ideal. It was not always happy. The road was broken, more often than it was smooth, and in many ways, so was I. There are times when I still am. If I thought writing this book was hard the first time around, rewriting it four years later was the hardest thing I have done in my career to date.

  Being forced to face the mistakes and regrets that I have left buried for far too long left me an emotional mess and feeling far too vulnerable and exposed by the words that poured from my fingertips. My life lessons were hard learned, but worth every struggle in the end because it showed me what I am made of. Thanks to you, and this story, I have learned it is okay to feel broken because if you dig down deep enough, you will find that inner strength you never knew you had. I also found that even after being hurt so deeply you may think you will never recover, you can. You will.

  Life doesn’t always turn out like we expected, and rarely are things ever what they seem. The rollercoaster ride doesn’t stop to give a second to breathe every time we fall down or feel overwhelmed. If it did, we would never get very far. The memories of how I have gotten to this point in my life have left their tattoos on my heart and I will always remember the way my broken, fragile spirit was gently put back together by a man who wanted nothing more than to earn my love in return.

  Whether I like it or not, a piece of my heart lies buried in a cemetery in Illinois, where it will always remain. If I close my eyes, I can still see your smile, and hear how my name sounded coming from your lips. No matter how much time passes, or where I find myself, I will carry those memories with me because they remind me how far I have come. This may not be word for word how our story went, but the emotions I felt are in every page nonetheless.

  I made a choice not to dwell on past mistakes or on what I have lost because no one is promised tomorrow. Life doesn’t come with a guarantee of some page turning happily ever after that comes without struggle or mind-fucking plot twist. With love, there are only risks or regrets.

  Chapter 1

  Rachel

  Doormat.

  The one word I never thought I would be using to describe myself. When I look in the mirror, I hate the person I see staring back at me. How did I get here? I used to be the life of the party; Rachel Davidson was fun.

  This did not happen overnight. My downward spiral was a slow, yet painful, ride that I watched unfold like some train wreck I was helpless to stop. My happiness was stripped, piece by piece, by the man I fell in love with at a college dorm party. But, before my very eyes, that man began to change into someone I didn’t even recognize. No one sets out to be steamrolled by someone. If you see it coming, you move. However, I didn’t see the disaster my life was becoming until I was standing in the wreckage.

  Once the blinders came off, and I saw everything for how it truly was, I knew that I had to leave. Graduation day came and I was packed up, having made peace with my decision to let go of the man who had once stolen my heart. Then everything changed and my world was rocked to its foundations. Two lines on a white stick would forever tie me to Tim Willis forever. One year later, here I am with a baby and living with a man that I really think only puts up with me.

  I don’t regret my daughter, Alyssa, for a minute. However, she deserves a father who holds her, talks to her. She deserves to be loved by him. I have racked my brain trying to figure out what I have done to make him so indifferent, and how I could possibly make things better for us. Nothing has worked. I am horrified that this is how I will spend the rest of my life. Unhappy. Empty. Lonely. Aching for a void to be filled that only grows larger by the day.

  This should be a happy time for Tim and I. Today makes three years since our first date. I have spent hours making sure everything is perfect. Our apartment is spotless; breakfast is on the table just as he steps through the door after working all night at a local factory. Taking a deep breath, I muster every ounce of strength I have left to meet his eyes. My hope is that the man who had once made me feel so special will see how unhappy I am. If he loves me at all, he couldn’t possibly want that, right?

  “Morning, Tim.”

  “Yep,” he mumbles, dumping his lunch box and jacket to the chair. Passing me, he walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He’s never talkative when he comes off the night shift. Just one more thing I miss. Tim and I used to spend hours every night talking. Eventually, it became less and less. Now, I can’t remember the last time he actually heard what I had to say without becoming defensive or irritated.

  When the door opens, I quickly dismiss my thoughts as he eyes the table. “Breakfast, huh?” he asks, taking a seat at the table.

  “Happy Anniversary, Tim,” I smile, sitting down beside him.

  “Is it now?” Shrugging, he digs into his food. The smile that was on my face fades, just those two words and what little hope I had drains from me.

  “I thought we could talk,” I force out, swallowing hard. I am determined to say something, anything to try and explain how I feel.

  Tim drops his fork to the plate and looks up at me. He exhales loudly, frustration radiating off of him in waves. “What is it?”

  “It’s just,” I start, my hands twisting in my lap nervously. “Are you happy with this? With me? I mean—”

  “Of course I’m not happy with you,” he snaps, interrupting me. “Do you think I enjoy coming home, after working all night, to a dirty house and an inquisition from you.” His reply is cold. “I’ll make it really easy for you so you can understand. If you want me to be happy, you’d clean the sink in the bathroom and mop this damn floor. It’s like you enjoy living in filth.”

  Telling him that I mopped last night before I went to bed wouldn’t matter, so I don’t argue. The fact that I bleach that sink every morning before he comes home is irrelevant. Nothing is ever good enough. Standi
ng up, I walk over and scrape my untouched breakfast into the disposal. “If you weren’t hungry you shouldn’t have fixed a plate. Wasting my hard-earned money on food you didn’t even eat. You are bound and determined to piss me off today, aren’t you?” he scolds before downing his juice.

  “I’m going to check on the baby,” I inform him as if it matters.

  “Hey,” Tim calls out making me stop in the doorway. I turn expectantly, meeting his eyes. “If you’re going to go pout, at least admit it. Fuckin’ baby,” he bites out hatefully, “You act like such a goddamn child. Sometimes, I wonder if you’re even worth all the trouble.”

  My jaw drops in shock at the venom in his words. Why do I let him talk to me that way? What would he say if I stood up to him just once? My fists ball at my sides, my frustration boiling over. Taking a deep breath, I roll my eyes. “Kiss my ass,” I mutter, turning my back to him. “Prick.”

  The chair scrapes across the floor, screeching loudly over the tile. “What the fuck did you say?” he asks angrily. “Sounds like you’re lookin’ for a fight this morning.”

  My knees shake at the intimidating tone that is meant as a warning. This fight would not solve anything. Shaking my head, I take a second to breath and force myself to calm down. “I said leave the glass, Tim. I’ll wash up the dishes later.”

  “Whatever,” he grumbles behind me. “Make sure you mop, too. What kind of mother would let this place get so disgusting?” he growls. Shoving around me, he storms into our room, slamming the door behind him so hard the floor vibrates beneath my feet.

  Hurrying into the nursery, I let the tears fall. I won’t dare cry in front of Tim; that would only fuel his fire. I bend to every request, comply with every demand, but still it is never enough. I could beg him to open up to me, but he has this wall up and I am the last person he will let in. It has been months since he has even used my first name when talking to me.

  Today was going to be the turning point it was going to make me forget all of that. It hadn’t though. I was naïve to think anything is going to change that. It is foolish to keep putting everything into a one-sided relationship that I didn’t want any more than he did.

  Looks like today is a turning point, after all.

  Hindsight is a dirty little bitch. Why is it that true understanding and realization are so much easier to grasp after the fact? Looking back, everything should have been clear, especially the day Alyssa was born. Of course Tim didn’t say sweet things to me after giving birth to our daughter. My pleas for him to hold her or sit with me may as well have fallen on deaf ears.

  “I don’t cuddle or whatever the hell it is you’re expecting from me. This is what you wanted.” He gestures to himself and the baby, then shakes his head. “Get used to it,” Tim barked before leaving the room.

  He did not come back until they released us to go home. I was devastated. What kind of man feels nothing for his newborn child and the woman he claims to be building a future with? Hell, I have seen him high five a complete stranger at the pool hall.

  “Good morning, Princess.” Lifting her from the crib, I cuddle her in my arms. “How is my beautiful girl this morning?” Her gassy grins lift my mood immediately.

  After Alyssa is changed, I settle into the rocker to feed her. As she latches onto my breast, I try to relax and tune out the blaring television from across the hall. I feel like a single parent most of the time. Sadly, I have grown used to doing everything myself. If you had told me this is how my life after college would be, that my degree would be sitting unused in a frame in the closet, I would have laughed at you.

  I expected a happily ever after. Wrong. No glass slipper or charming prince here, ladies. I settled out of fear and now I am completely miserable. My heart sinks. What kind of example am I setting for my daughter? I can feel all the best pieces of me slipping away with each passing day. What will happen when the last of me disappears forever, leaving me just a shell of my former self? I just don’t know anymore.

  Clearing his throat, Tim steps into the doorway wearing just his boxers. The low slung blue cotton against his tanned skin is like candy for the eyes. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I look my fill.

  Yeah, I stare even if he is an asshole…

  “Hey.” His eyes drift down to my exposed chest and the baby as she eats. “For fuck’s sake, cover yourself up,” he groans in disgust, yanking a hand through his dark brown hair.

  Looking away in an attempt to mask my hurt, I pull a blanket over us. Once again, Tim’s comfort and happiness is more important than anyone else’s. “Sorry, Tim. What do you need?”

  “Come here when you’re done with the kid,” he replies, then walks back into our room. I hear him flop onto the bed. The flicker of his lighter tells me he is smoking inside the house again.

  Once I have finished feeding the baby, I turn on her mobile and lie her back in the crib. “I’ll be back later, sweet girl,” I whisper as her eye lids begin to droop.

  Walking into the master bedroom, I brace myself. It’s safe to assume I am about to get an ear-full about whatever is eating at him at the moment. Tim is sprawled across the bed on his back, his erection tenting the front of his boxers. “How ‘bout some?” he asks, patting the mattress with one hand.

  Now there’s a seduction scene.

  “Tim, we really should talk.”

  Pushing up on his elbows, he jerks his chin in the direction of his dick. “I’m tired. I don’t want to talk. I want you to get your ass over here and take care of me so I can go to sleep.”

  Knowing five minutes of sex is better than a thirty-minute argument that will only wake the baby, I walk over to the bed and lie down next to him. I don’t say no, even though I really don’t want this. Sometimes giving in is the easiest way with him. Picking battles in an effort to avoid the eggshells, so to speak.

  Pulling our brown comforter over us, he grips my hips. The moment he touches me, I know this is a mistake. Tim pushes my shirt up over my head. His mouth sucks and bites roughly at my nipple. “Wait,” I blurt, pushing against his chest. “I can’t even see, Tim.”

  “Who gives a shit. This isn’t about you anyway.” Fumbling around, he pulls my underwear to the side. No connection, no intimacy, it’s all just for his release. My face is completely covered by my shirt when he plunges into me. The force of his hips cause the blanket to twist and bunch up, covering me as well. I’m an empty vessel that Tim is just using and he doesn’t even respect me enough to look me in the eye while he does it.

  The monotonous in and out, in and out, does nothing for me. Not like that matters to Tim. He said it himself; this is all about him. It always is and I see now that it always will be if I continue to stay in this mess. I try to let my mind drift to happier times with him; but there are very few that he hasn’t ruined lately with digs at me.

  I was so determined to make this work. I had even convinced myself that my pregnancy was a sign from fate that we belonged together. So, I stayed and put all my faith into Tim. Waiting patiently for him to open up to me and be a father to our daughter. However, Tim never acknowledges her unless she is in his way of getting what he wants. He looks at her like an inconvenience. I don’t know what more to do, but in my head I am screaming. This can’t be all there is can it?

  My mind continues to drift until he finally stills above me. “Shit, you could at least move or something,” he grunts, rolling off me. “Fucking you is like bangin’ a goddamn corpse.”

  “Sorry,” I answer, rolling out of bed and righting my clothes. “I have dishes to do,” I add in a hushed tone with my eyes to the floor.

  Dammit, stop being so fucking weak, Rachel! Quit apologizing to this asshole!

  “You better keep that kid quiet. I should’ve been asleep already,” he says coldly as I close the door.

  Once I clean myself up, I finish the dishes. By the time I put the last plate in the drainer, my anger and resentment is boiling over. I can’t bear the cold way he is with me any longer. It is as if he
is repulsed by me. Like he hates me. Though he has no problem looking over it the moment his dick gets hard.

  While I was pregnant with Alyssa, I overheard him talking to his buddies one night about his ex. “A guy can get it up for anything with a willing hole.” He then continued to tell them how he kept her around just for regular sex. The thought still makes me ill, but yet I stay. Why?

  I wish I could turn it off. That I could stop feeling anything for the man he once was. All the constant rejection wouldn’t hurt so badly. My self-esteem is destined to die a slow and painful death if I stay on this hamster wheel. This is no way to live.

  The phone rings, making me jump. Quickly, I fumble for the receiver so it doesn’t wake Tim and cause another argument. “Hello?”

  “Babe…” A sob chokes out of my sister, Kate’s, voice making my blood run cold.

  “What’s wrong,” I ask, pacing the length of the kitchen. My mind begins to spin, overloaded with the possibilities of what could be wrong.

  “Dad is sick.” Three words that no one ever wants to hear rattle me to the core. I collapse into the chair beside me, as she continues. “He’s been sick for months and none of us knew.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I ask in disbelief.

  “His kidneys began shutting down. Says it’s complications with his diabetes. He’s been sneaking to dialysis for months.”

  “Okay, so why is he speaking up now?” I ask, my hand trembling.

  Kate blows out a shaky breath, “He only told us today because he is running out of options. Treatments aren’t working as well as the doctor had hoped. He’s dying, Rach.”

  “No,” I gasp into the phone. “This isn’t real. This can’t be happening.” My chest tightens at the thought of losing my father.

  “He’s refusing to go on the transplant list. Stubborn old man told us it’s too late anyway. That he’s made his bed, now it’s time to lie in it.”