Unbroken: A Second Chance Romance

by Aria Ford

  I had made up my mind that I was going to forget all about him. I felt bad about Lance. I texted him to apologize and he texted back.

  Sorry, Mimi. It was my fault. I was really insensitive.

  I sighed.

  No, you weren’t. I texted back. Or if you were, then I could have just said so.

  He sent back a smiley face. If you were that simple, it wouldn’t be you.

  My heart warmed. I hadn’t realized how much Lance cared about me. How he “got” me.

  Thanks.

  After we’d texted a few times and rounded off, I leaned back with my eyes closed, thinking. I was lucky to have Lance in my life. And he, of all the people I knew, loved me for exactly who I was. Warts and all.

  I wished I could let Jay know that I loved him the same way.

  But I couldn’t risk it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jay

  “Dammit! I wish I knew what she thought.”

  I swore at myself as I headed upstairs following a long family lunch. It was Friday and I couldn’t forget that soon—far too soon—it would be Sunday and I would leave. I would be leaving Margo behind.

  And I still have no idea if she really thinks I’m a pitiable one-legged man.

  I knew my family had noticed I was down. My cousin Carrington in particular had been hovering and giving me encouraging looks. But I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted to do was sit down and cry. It was the sheer frustration of it. I had little enough way of working out all my frustrations. I couldn’t do what I used to do—go for a jog, or go to the gym or kick a ball.

  I kicked the nearest door jamb instead. “Damn! Damn! Damn!” Pain shot through my good leg and down my paralyzed one. I groaned in agony. Margo is going to be the death of me.

  “Jay…” my mom called up.

  “Yes, what?” I said. I instantly regretted snapping at her when I saw the hurt look on her face.

  “I just wanted to ask if you were going to be in for dinner,” she said. Her voice was all tight, face hard.

  “Mom…” I said, feeling awful. “I didn’t mean it…”

  “Never mind,” she said tightly. “It’s not a problem…” She looked as though she might cry and my heart twisted painfully.

  “It is, mom…” I said. I tried to come down the stairs again, but it was hard work, and despite her effort not to notice, I knew she was, well, making an effort.

  “It’s fine, Jay,” she said gently when I reached the bottom. “I know something’s worrying you at the moment. I’ll leave you in peace.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, clearing my throat. Dammit, why did this leg have to be so bad? It was ruining my life? I was even too moody to talk to my mom.

  I saw that she was still upset but I didn’t know what to say and I stood there helplessly as she turned and walked away, heading into the living room.

  “Jay?”

  It was my cousin. I felt desperate to just get out of here.

  “Yes?” I said tightly.

  “It’s okay,” she called back. “It can wait.”

  “Okay,” I said. “See you soon.”

  I headed upstairs. I knew I was being difficult. I just didn’t know what to do.

  Well, I might not be able to run. But I can still walk. And I can still drive—just. I headed to the car.

  I mapped out the quickest route to the park in my head. It had been a while since I lived in Milwaukee, but I was raised here and I remembered most of it. I challenged myself to a drive to the park without the assistance of any software and headed into the traffic.

  I managed to find the park.

  I spent another ten minutes looking for parking. By the time I’d found some I was so frustrated with people driving, people parking and traffic jams that I was cheerfully forgetting all my own worries. It was a good feeling.

  It’s a nice evening.

  People were streaming into the park—kids on skateboards, people with dogs, people just coming back from work, in suits and smart dresses and shoes.

  I decided to take a long walk around the park, starting at the top corner and ending at the bottom. I surprised myself by enjoying it. Weirdly, people in the park didn’t tend to stare at me. Maybe it’s the fact that you have to be a particularly laid-back sort to be getting dragged around the city park by your four-footed pal, but people in parks tend to me more forgiving. At least in my experience.

  I found a bench and sat down in the sun, glad to get my arms off the crutches. I leaned back on the bench and closed my eyes, letting the late sunshine soak into my skin.

  In the forgiving sunshine I allowed myself to think about my worries. The main one, of course, was what to do about Margo.

  I really ought to just forget her. It’s what I should have done in the beginning. Why did I go and get involved again?

  I sighed. I knew I wouldn’t do any differently if I was faced with the same choice again. I was in love with her. It wasn’t like I hadn’t loved her when I left the first time.

  The phone lay in my pocket and I felt as if it was burning me. I wanted to lift it and write a reply to her, but I also knew that I would be better—kinder—not to answer.

  She’s a beautiful girl with her whole life ahead of her. She doesn’t need to be shackled to a lame guy.

  I let out a long sigh and deleted it. There.

  I sat and watched the people going past. I liked dogs and there were a lot of them to see now. Watching them took my mind off the pain in my heart that felt almost physical.

  I saw a beautiful black Labrador with an older woman in a business suit taking him for a walk. Two Scottish terriers came up behind them, tangled balls of black fluff on leashes. They were barking and clearly wanted to run.

  I knew how they felt. I wanted to run too, dammit. I wanted to slip this stupid leash that was my own leg and run.

  I hate my body.

  I was building up a strong layer of resentment and anger when I saw a small child blowing bubbles and chuckling hysterically. The sight of the little face all crinkled with mirth was so moving that I smiled too. And it was just as well I was watching the bubbles or I wouldn’t have been looking down the path. And that would have meant not noticing the tall, dark-haired jogging girl.

  No. It can’t be.

  But as she got closer, I realized, heart thumping, that it was.

  “Margo?”

  I stared at her. It was definitely her. I had no idea whether she’d seen me yet. She was about fifty meters away, just coming out of the tree-covered area. It was quite by chance that I’d seen her. I still wasn’t completely sure that it was her, but the longer I stared and the clearer she was, the more it became obvious it was her.

  “Dammit. It is you.”

  I didn’t know what to do. I was rooted to the spot, still undecided as to whether to run or stay put. Then it was too late.

  “Oh. Hi. Jay?”

  She was standing perhaps ten paces away. She looked at me. There was no one else around—my bench was in shade now and maybe that was why we were in a little pool of quiet.

  “Margo.”

  I didn’t know whether I should try and stand or whether to stay where I was. In the event, as she came up I just stayed seated. My crutches were on my left-hand side, an easy reach away.

  “You know, I don’t know why I bother,” she said.

  Her words were so flat and cruel that I stared. “Margo? What do…”

  She snorted. “I mean it,” she said. “Why did I even come over. I know you hate me.”

  I was astounded. “Margo? What on…why do…I don’t hate you!”

  She gave a thin smile. “Well, if you don’t, you sure do a great impression of it sometime.”

  I stared at her. “Margo, please explain.”

  She rounded on me. “What is there to explain? You walk out on me. Never offer an explanation. And then four years later you do the same thing! I don’t know why I even talk to you. You’re a runner.”

  She sounded so furi
ous that I had no idea what to say. She was still standing there, though. She hadn’t left.

  “Margo,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  “I…” she stopped. “You’re what?”

  “I said I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. I was. I don’t suppose she would have believed me if I said it, but this was the first time I’d stopped to consider how mean I had been to her. I had walked out without any word, just like she said. And I had been cruel and inconsiderate. I’d done it twice.

  “Well, then,” she said. She didn’t move. Didn’t come any closer. She was still not smiling. But something about her seemed at ease.

  “Well, then,” I echoed. I risked leaning forward, not sure whether I should reach out and touch her. I held out a hand. “Friends?”

  She looked at me skeptically. But she sighed.

  “We’re always friends, Jay,” she said. Her voice cracked. “If I wasn’t…your friend…it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

  I sighed. “I was wrong,” I said.

  She chuckled. “Well, hurray! You noticed.”

  I pulled a face. “Thanks, hey.”

  She sat down next to me. I drew in a long breath. This close, I could almost sense the warmth of those bare legs. She was wearing running shorts and a T-shirt, all Lycra and jersey cloth and branding.

  “Oh, Jay,” she said.

  She smiled at me and I smiled into her eyes and leaned forward.

  She leaned forward too. Our lips met.

  I tensed, not sure what to do, but she didn’t move away and so I let my tongue run very gently across the line of her mouth and then, sweetly, slide into it. She let it enter and I raised my hands and held her face and closed my eyes and knew I was in bliss.

  The evening sun was warm on our skin and Margo let out a long shuddering breath and I leaned my forehead against hers.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Margo

  I couldn’t believe it. Jay had said he was sorry.

  Not only that, but I was here, in the park, on a bench, and Jay was kissing me? I let out a long breath. When he released me, I felt dazed.

  He smiled. “Whew.”

  I chuckled. “You can say that again.”

  As he drew breath to fit the action to the word, I laughed.

  “You know I didn’t mean to really say it again,” I protested.

  He chuckled. “I do know. Are you going somewhere?”

  “Dressed like this?” I couldn’t help asking.

  He chuckled. “Well, you know I don’t know anything about fashion.”

  “You’re not that clueless,” I said fondly. Considering he was just going for a walk in the park, he looked pretty good.

  He gave a grin. “Thanks.”

  I looked into those blue eyes. He still looked sad and it hurt my heart.

  “Jay, I’m sorry too,” I said.

  He blinked. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he said gently.

  “I do, though,” I insisted. “I’ve been so blind.” Ever since my conversation with my brother it had been becoming more obvious to me why he was like he was.

  “No…” he said softly. “Blind about what?”

  “About everything,” I said softly. “I should have seen why you wanted to leave me.”

  He smiled. “Well, I didn’t.”

  I stared. “You mean it?” I’d kind of deduced it was his injury that caused it, but even so, to hear it from his own mouth moved me greatly.

  “Of course I didn’t,” he said gently. “Margo…you can be really silly.”

  I huffed. “Well, no. I wasn’t being silly. You have to admit it made sense for me to think that.”

  “Well, maybe,” he said gently. “But please know that was never true. I never didn’t want you: not ever.”

  I knew I was crying. I could feel the tears roll down my face. I was still, though, not making a sound. He reached up and gently touched my cheek.

  “Margo, no…” he said. He sounded horrified. “Don’t cry.”

  I sniffed. “Not…crying.”

  He laughed. “Well, that’s what it looks like to me.”

  I sniffed again and looked about for a tissue. My only pocket proved not to hold one.

  “Tissue?” he said.

  I laughed. “Why am I not surprised you have one?”

  “Because I’m boring?”

  It was my turn to stare. “You, boring?” I laughed loudly.

  “Well, I am,” he said. “I mean, I can’t even walk.”

  I felt myself get mad. “Jay, stop it,” I said. “How can you even think something like that? I love you.”

  It shot out of my mouth, shouted at him in a moment of impatience that was also a moment of truth.

  He stared at me. I covered my face, feeling acutely embarrassed. Now what? I’d broken the single solid rule my mother had taught me: never let anyone know how much you feel.

  I expected him to snort and chuckle and walk away. To be embarrassed. Instead, he looked as if he was watching a rare comet. He was staring at me with a mixture of disbelief and happiness.

  “You mean it?”

  I chuckled, acutely self-conscious. “What do you think?” I said stiffly. “If I didn’t, why would I just have shouted it at you and half the park?”

  He laughed them. He didn’t make much noise but he sat there with his shoulders heaving, laughing so the tears rolled down his face.

  “You dear woman,” he said. It was such an incongruous thing for him—a musclebound ex-athlete—to say—that I stared. Then I chuckled.

  “Oh, Jay,” I said.

  “I love you too,” he said gently.

  I couldn’t believe it. I thought I might actually die of happiness. I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine and reached up and gently stroked my hair. I leaned forward, and he leaned into meet me and our lips met.

  The kiss was slow and tender, starting with the merest lick of his tongue across the line of my lips. It deepened into a kiss that pushed into my mouth, parting my lips and probing my wetness and making my entire body ache.

  “Come on,” I said thickly as he leaned back. “Let’s go.”

  He didn’t ask what I meant, but he stood and reached for the crutches. I gave him time.

  Together we walked back to my car. Then, with him in the passenger seat, crutches tucked in beside him, we were racing back to my house. It was a good time. The traffic was good, and we reached it just before I thought I might actually faint from longing.

  ***

  I waited while Margo opened the door. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself and reached out to touch her, bracing my shoulder on the door. She felt my hand on her body and giggled.

  “Wait, you,” she hissed. She was laughing and so was I.

  I couldn’t say when I had felt so happy.

  I wanted her and she wanted me.

  She unlocked the door and we went into her apartment.

  Inside, I breathed in the scent of her, that sweet, exotic, floral scent. It made my heart flip and my loins ache. I stood behind her and waited while she found light switches and then followed her slowly into the bedroom.

  “Here,” she said, closing the curtains and switching on the light. I waited until she was finished, then closed the door. I leaned against the wall, letting the crutches fall to one side. She leaned into my arms, and I held her.

  “Margo,” I sighed as I kissed her. Her plump lips parted under my tongue, and I knew my cock was helplessly hard as she leaned against me.

  She smiled.

  “Mm,” she said. “Come on.”

  She leaned over and flopped back onto the bed. She lay there, looking up at me with those teasing dark eyes. I couldn’t resist. I limped to the bed and flopped down beside her, reaching hungrily for her shirt even as I leaned down to kiss her.

  I was tugging the shirt over her head, and she laughed and shifted, helping me. When her body and bra were revealed, I made myself move so I could grip the run
ning shorts and pull them down her long legs.

  She lay before me on the bed, her bra pale in the half-light. I marveled at her—how her taut, high breasts filled the lacy fabric, her flat belly below, and those legs topped with the sweet triangle of her undies.

  It was hard to just sit and look at her, and I made myself do it, teasing myself as I stared at those full breasts, rising and falling with her breath. Under the bra, her nipples were peach, just the paler side of freckle brown, and they were hard and tight and so good if you had them between your lips.

  I reached for her, and slowly worked the elastic strapping down her arms.

  She made a little sigh as I rolled her over and gently unclasped her bra. Then I lifted the lace away.

  She was lying on her back, those sweet, full breasts pointing at the ceiling. I couldn’t resist and let them fill my hands and lips.

  The skin was satin under me, and I breathed in the scent of her skin even as I worked her nipple, teasing it out with my fingers and tongue. She was gasping, and I could feel that sweet shudder that told me that she was liking it.

  I moved my hand lower, and closed my eyes, taunting myself again as I let my hand slide down her undies.

  The skin was wet, and I let my fingers part her, teasing myself as much as her as she shifted and yelped.

  It was irresistible to indulge myself and her, and I worked her with my mouth and fingers, loving the sweet taste of her—the firm hardness in my mouth and the sounds she made.

  I was drifting in the sweet bliss of her scent, her wetness, her warmth.

  “Jay,” she murmured. “Oh, oh…”

  She was about to come. I held my breath and tried to decide whether I should finish her myself now or try and enter her. I decided on the first and let my thumb rub her until she screamed.

  She lay back, her eyes closed, lost in sweetness.

  “Oh, baby.”

  I kissed her, letting my tongue thrust into her gentle mouth. My whole body was aching for her now and I felt my loins throbbing desperately.

  I sat up and started to undress myself. She reached for me and stroked a hand down my skin. I sighed and felt my body respond to hers.

  “Oh, baby,” I murmured. “I want you.”