What's Left of Me (Finally Unbroken Book 2)

by Maria Macdonald

  Finally Unbroken Series Book Two

  Maria Macdonald

  What’s Left of Me

  Finally Unbroken Series Book Two

  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

  Dedication

  For Laurie Breitsprecher.

  You gave me your name.

  But more…

  You are the other half to my musical soul.

  Blurb

  How do you get over the death of a loved one? The one you were going to marry? Even if you always knew you were on borrowed time...

  Ruben Asher has been on a downward spiral ever since the death of his fiancée. Getting lost in a haze of alcohol and grief, he spurns everyone’s help, even his best friends.

  Laurie Rosales has lived through a loss that still haunts her every day. She turns her black hole of an existence into helping others. But Ruben is the one man she could never reach...

  Nearly two years later, Ruben dives head-first into her life again, surprising both her and himself.

  This time, he knows what he wants and he's not backing down.

  Can Ruben help Laurie confront buried truths? Can Laurie compete with ghosts from Ruben’s past? Can they break down each other’s walls? Allowing healing to begin on both sides along with feelings like no other.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Blurb

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Connect with Me Online

  About the Author – Maria Macdonald

  Prologue

  The bar feel’s good, maybe I should live the rest of my days here.

  None of it matters anymore anyway.

  I stare at my empty glass. Beating everything back with alcohol is definitely the way forward. The smell that hangs in the air is stale, heavy with beer and sweat. It’s a real bar, for men who want to forget. Men like me. That’s why I want to stay here forever, even though everyone else has already left. This is the way of the world. In the end, I will always be on my own.

  “Hey, buddy… Hey, you.” The noise comes from behind the counter.

  Moving my head causes the room to spin, but I can just about make out a blurred face.

  “You need me to call someone?” the blur asks.

  “Nobody to call,” I slur as my head drops onto the counter top.

  “Ruben… Ruben,” the angelic voice wakes me. And for one, still, calm, warm minute, I forget everything and my world isn’t tilted anymore. Then, as with every other time I’ve woken over the last three years, my peace is shattered when I remember and my world crumbles. It all filters into my mind at once, trying to suffocate me. What the memories forget, is that I want to be suffocated. As long as I’m here—alive, existing, barely—I’m lost to everyone, even myself. I don’t have her, so there’s nothing left of me. She took all the good I had with her. I tried to be a better person for Amanda, and everything I became was wrapped up in her, now I’m not sure who I am.

  “Go away,” I grunt.

  “Come on, Ruben, they want to shut the bar.” I recognize the voice now. Laurie. Fucking Laurie. Always trying to fix me.

  “Leave. Now,” I growl out.

  “Dude, you have to leave. Don’t make me call the cops.”

  I groan at the barman. Then pull my six-two frame from the stool and allow my eyes to cut across to Laurie Rosales.

  “Hey Laurie, is it? This your man?” the bartender asks as I watch him leer at her.

  She shakes her head while moving toward my swaying body.

  “Can I have your number?” he asks hopefully.

  She whispers a quiet, “No,” followed by an apology. Which, in turn, makes him bang something and walk off. Douche. I stare at her for a moment, trying to see what he saw. With her long almost black hair, tanned skin and light blue eyes, she’s probably every man’s wet dream. Not mine.

  “Would have thought you’d have something better to do on a Saturday night than be a babysitter.” I stop talking and curl my lip. “Figures you’d be the one to try and save me. I can tell you now, ain’t nothing left to save, darling.”

  “I’m just here to take you home, Ruben. I can’t save you. That much I know.” Her tone is soft, but her words are hard. Jagged around the edges. “You can’t save someone who wants to drown, or you’ll end up drowning with them.” Turning, she walks away, stops, looks over her shoulder and says, “Are you coming? I’m not heaving your big frame, so you better hope those legs of yours still work.” She glances down at my thighs with undiluted anger. It sears me to the bone. Then she walks away again, this time without a backward glance.

  I’m jolted from my thoughts as we turn toward my house. I can’t call it a home, I haven’t had one of those since I was a child. As Laurie’s car draws up outside, I close my eyes in frustration.

  “Why the fuck did you call him?” I snap.

  “Because I didn’t know how bad you’d be. I can’t look after you, it isn’t r-really appropriate,” she stutters and for the first time tonight, I feel a small frisson of guilt at the way I’ve behaved toward her. That gets easily washed away as she pulls into my drive, right next to Anabel’s black Range Rover. Where an obviously annoyed Danny stands, arms crossed, one foot tucked behind the other ankle, leaning against the door, his eyes narrowed at me.

  “I can’t believe you fucking called him,” I repeat myself still angry, even after her lame attempt at an explanation.

  “I… it seemed… I mean… y-you—”

  “Don’t bother with your shitty excuses,” I snarl while angling myself out of the car.

  I hear her car door open and close softly behind me, but my eyes are narrowed on Danny’s. Mirroring his scowl.

  “Ruben… I’m sorry.” Laurie’s subdued voice carries over to me.

  Without looking back, I snap, “Not interested. I won’t be coming back to any of your do-gooder meetings anymore either…” I walk straight past Danny. “You can both fuck off, now you know I’m home.”

  Danny
reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me back. “Ruben, this shit has to stop,” he growls out at me.

  I look between him and Laurie. “What shit?”

  “This shit! Getting drunk every fucking weekend. Needing one of us to save your ass.”

  “Fuck you, Danny. I never asked either of you to bail me out. How the fuck did they even know who to call?” I raise my voice.

  “I put my number in your phone as your emergency contact.” Laurie’s voice is soft and calm like she’s dealing with a feral animal.

  “I gave Laurie my number and told her to call me if this happened again. After the last time…” Danny quietens down.

  We’re all silent. I remember last time. My ass was thrown in jail for drunk driving. The only saving grace was that the local sheriff knew Laurie. He called her to come bail me out. Still, if she thinks that means I owe her something, then she’ll soon realize that she’s made the wrong assumption.

  I turn to her. “Go home. I’ll take your number out of my cell. See you around.” Moving back to the house, Danny grunts his disappointment at me. I don’t give a shit.

  “Ruben,” he calls.

  “What Danny? What? I’m home, I’ve sobered up,” I say trying desperately to walk straight while blinking, attempting to clear the blur in my eyes. “Go home to your pregnant wife and your daughter.” He doesn’t move. “Go!” I shout.

  “Fucking hell, Ruben. We’re here, trying to help you,” he shouts back.

  “I didn’t ask you to do dick. So as it seems to be such a hardship, here’s me making it easier. Don’t bother anymore.” I turn away as my chest rises and falls rapidly, the anger is obvious with every biting word I speak.

  “For fuck’s sake, Ruben. It’s been three fucking years since we lost her. Three years!”

  I twist and move so quickly toward him that I’m sure any other man would back away, but not him, not Danny. As I stand nose to nose with my best friend, my voice quietens down. “Three years for you Danny. Three years for the world. When it’s your world you lose… three years doesn’t exist… three minutes don’t exist. My world ends continuously. Every fucking time I open my eyes and remember. Every smell, every memory, every thought, and every time I look at the damn stars. Don’t ever assume you know how I feel. You lost Anabel for years. You didn’t lose her forever.” I watch as pity fills his eyes. Then, because I can’t take anymore, I back away quickly moving into the house and slamming the door, just trying to breathe.

  Leaning forward, I brace myself with my palms on my knees, then shake it off, striding to the stairs. I need my bed. As I look up and out of the side window, the stars shine brightly.

  “Don’t judge me. I’m trying not to be a dick,” I tell her—my star.

  Getting no reply, I change course and go to the kitchen, grab a bottle of Jack from my stock and retrace my steps. This time I ignore the window, effectively blocking out the stars and enter my bedroom. Putting the bottle down to pull off my jeans, socks and shirt, before I sink into the bed and drown all over again. This time, Jack will be my friend. Jack will always be there for me.

  Chapter One

  EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER

  “Thanks, Sarah, I’ll take it from here,” I tell my co-worker at the community center. The place that’s been my home from home for the last five years, ever since I lost Larissa and Rocco.

  “Sweet. I’m going to head off. I have Jim and the twins waiting for food. You know that house doesn’t function without me,” she says laughing and rolling her eyes. Like it’s a hardship when everyone here knows how much she dotes on her family. Watching her walk out of the center, I pull my shoulders back and get ready to enter another new class. Walking in, I purposefully don’t look at anyone. Always finding it easier to say the first few words without looking. I’ve perfected my opening address since I started holding these classes about eighteen months ago. Unlike back then, I now start every new group with my story, to help them talk about theirs. Talking about my experience, usually helps them see that I do understand and that I can relate. I like to be the first to show my vulnerability, to show them I’m opening myself up to them, before asking that they do the same for me. Tying my jumper around my waist, I pace the circle of chairs, walking around the outside.

  “I lost my sister and nephew five years ago. I took it hard, really hard…” I say offering a small smile to the group. “Grief is difficult. That part is obvious. Everyone knows it’s not easy, even people who have never suffered through it. What’s not always realized, sometimes even taken for granted… is the type of loss. I’ll give you an example. Everyone in this circle has lost someone. Someone so important to them that they feel the need to come to a bereavement class. So, out of everyone in this building, you should know how hard it is. But even though we know that, I’d bet if I could get inside your minds, I’d find that at least one person out of the six of you heard me say… I lost my sister and nephew. And whether consciously or subconsciously, you thought, well that’s not as bad as me… I lost my wife, husband, child, etc. It’s a natural reaction, even if it’s not a fair one.”

  I stop speaking and swallow, knowing the hard part is coming. “If I then went on to say… my sister was my twin. She was my world. She had my nephew Rocco when she was seventeen. Her then boyfriend left, and our parents disowned her. I took her side, left when they kicked her out. We moved a lot, and at seventeen, we weren’t supposed to be in the big wide world on our own. Not yet, especially when one of us was pregnant. As Larissa got bigger, I picked up whatever jobs I could. I’ve been a checkout girl, right through to a stripper…” as I hear them gasp, I smile.

  “I was eighteen when I had to strip. Still, I have no regrets, it was good money. Rocco needed diapers and formula, and I’d pretty much do anything for that kid.”

  I stop pacing and hang my head for a second. “Larissa began having problems. She’d fall for no reason. It started happening a lot, then it escalated. She started having trouble getting up when she was lying down, and she was having lots of muscle pain and stiffness. It was hard to find out the cause because even at eighteen, we didn’t have healthcare insurance. She was eventually diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy. It started affecting her pretty badly. It would’ve been easier on her if we could’ve gotten the treatment she needed. But all the money I made went on Rocco, making sure that little boy got everything he needed, but forgetting in the process that what he needed most was his mother.”

  I clench my teeth as my tummy flutters. Second guessing myself, my actions, and wishing I’d made different choices. Maybe if I’d focused more on getting her the help she required, we wouldn’t have been in the car that day. I give my head a little shake, trying to push out the questions I’ve asked myself a million times since that fateful day, and still not having the answers. I don’t look to the group, knowing their attention is solely on me. Instead, I pull myself together and continue the story.

  “She got depressed and I would be out all day, trying to work, to get money and providing, so Rocco could eat, and every other night we too were able to eat. She was stuck at home, with her beautiful son. But he was a baby, he needed everything doing for him and eventually, she couldn’t do it anymore. Physically it was too difficult, and she was getting worse, rapidly. I started spending more time at home, which meant less money for us, but I got to look after Rocco. From nearly his birth, until he died, I was that kid’s mom. I bathed him, fed him, and went to his soccer games. Loved him.

  “Five years ago, Rocco was eight and Larissa twenty-five. We were getting a ride in a neighbor’s car to the clinic for Larissa. She wasn’t doing too well. Our neighbor was a lovely gentleman, he was around sixty. His wife had died a few years before, so he was on his own. We used to bundle together, like a makeshift family. He’d take us to appointments, and we had him over most nights for charades. He would often bring food, which I’d cook for all of us. I hated the thought of him being across the hall all alone when he could spend some time with us. Tha
t Monday was no different to countless others over the years. Except it was. That Monday changed my whole life.”

  I stop talking, biting my lip instead. The next part is always the hardest. The emotion rolls through my chest, stopping at my heart which is now thumping hard and fast. And I know if I don’t just breathe, I’ll break down in the middle of class. It’s happened before and it wasn’t pretty. These people need to see someone stronger, someone who’s survived death and loss the same way that they have, or at the very least, to show them that they can. They don’t need to know I’m still broken, hollow, and that sometimes everything just seems pointless. In truth, the people here, they’re what keep me going. To know there’s a small chance I can help someone else, makes me feel like my life is worth something, and that’s all I have to stop me from giving up some days. I turn to the circle of faces, not really seeing any of them, everything’s a blur at this point.

  Sucking in a breath I climb my personal mountain. Again. “Mr. Kendall had a heart attack on the way to the hospital. We crashed. Larissa died on impact. Mr. Kendall had already died from the heart attack, well… that was what they told me later. I came out practically unscathed, just a few cuts and bruises. And Rocco…” I shake my head sadly, “…he survived, in hospital, for three days. He fought, with everything his little body had to try and survive. Ultimately, he couldn’t win. He didn’t win. He was bleeding internally, and so never woke up. But I swear… I swear he squeezed my fingers right before he passed.”

  I wipe away the single tear that I allow out of my eye, as I remember them, him. “I miss them all. But Rocco… he was like my child. And I know nothing will ever fill the hole in me. The one that he left. I could meet someone, get married, and have my own children. Still, nothing will ever take his place. He’d be thirteen now. Probably cheeky…” I stop and chuckle to myself, imagining the little man he would have turned into.