Hunter: I’m glad, you must be happy.
I regret hitting send when I read the sarcastic remark. Fuck that was shitty. But it’s the truth. Isn’t it? She’s worried about her job, her future. I huff. No, I want to be upset for the shit she said. I know that her biggest worry is being a bad mother like hers. The rest of what she said, was white noise to avoid the real problem. I hate knowing more than she is willing to say.
Willow: Sorry about what I said, my emotions have been running high since Brazil.
Her emotions running high? Pfft. She is a high of emotions. Fuck, I want to call her and give her a piece of my mind. At least, have a long talk. Discuss what I felt after the news that she’s not expecting my baby was revealed. I wanted that fucking baby. I wanted her.
I.
Have.
Nothing.
For sixty seconds, I played with the idea of having a little baby. Our baby. For sixty seconds, I saw a happy family. Those seconds gave me hope but also showed me that Willow isn’t ready for a relationship. I have no doubt that she loves me. I’ve seen it in her eyes. My heart feels it. She just won’t allow her heart to fully show me. Only one night has she done it. That night in Brazil when she allowed me to let everything I felt come out of hiding.
Hunter: I understand.
It sounds sensible, but a fucking lie.
In truth, I don’t fucking understand why she has to keep herself away from people who love her. I adore her, yet, she insists that she’s not enough for me. That I’d be happier with someone normal. Which planet is she on? There’s no fucking normal in this world. That label is the biggest lie. Not one person in this world is perfect. Some just know how to hide their imperfections better than others. Those are the fuckers everyone should be concerned about.
Willow is breaking our hearts by insisting that she’s not enough. She is trying to create a fantasy of a person who everyone will accept. Or maybe, she has changed and only showed that fucked up side while we waited for the stupid stick to give us the answer we both waited for. Though, we had different motives.
Will this be over? I was serious when I said I would wait for her, but wouldn’t be around until she was ready to take the next step. How can she not get it? She’s more than enough—she’s plenty. She’s everything.
Willow: No, you don’t understand.
Willow: You’re saying what you think is right. You’re upset that I haven’t had the nerve to take a step forward and cross the line. That I keep you at arm’s length. You’re pissed that I don’t see what you feel for me. But I see everything, Hunter.
Willow: The problem with you, is that you’re an entire emotion that scares me.
Willow: You’re the biggest emotion I’ve ever encountered. I’m not blind. I’m blindsided by the amount of love you radiate.
Willow: I am afraid because I want to feel your warmth, always. Your loving me is overwhelming and wonderful. But the fear of losing you overshadows everything. And that might stay forever. The big elephant between us is, and might always be, the insecurity of losing you.
Willow: I know you’re not my father.
Willow: Thank God, you’re nothing like him. You’re prepared to do everything in your power to ensure that I work my way through my problems. That I can learn how to live with my emotional state. That is real love.
Willow: I’m not my mother, either, and it’ll take time for me to grasp that concept. Teaching myself to love me has proven to be a challenge. Being a father is something you would love to be. Please, don’t deny it. I saw the pain in your face when you saw the results. And after the way I acted, you might think I don’t want children. Honestly, after you left I broke down because for sixty seconds, I could see myself holding that baby. Our baby.
Willow: So no, you don’t understand how I feel or my current emotional state. And that’s because I didn’t explain it to you. You assumed. If things are going to work between us, we have to stop assuming. We need to start communicating with each other without reservations. You have to start trusting that I can handle myself, and I have to trust you with my thoughts. Because Hunter Everhart, us is a noun that I hope we use often and forever.
Willow: Can we talk?
I scrub my face with both hands. “Can we talk and what, Willow?” I say out loud harshly to no one. Thank fuck my brothers are away. “So you can break the few pieces left of my broken heart?”
“So we communicate.” She walks in with her chin up, her eyes bright and her fucking smile plastered on that mouth I want to devour. Lifting her hand, she shows me the envelope I gave her over a year ago. “I know what you did, Hunter Everhart. I get it now.”
Thirty-Eight
It’s the little things
The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return. ~ Moulin Rouge
Her defined eyebrow arches, she gives me an I know everything about you now kind of look.
What is it that she knows? I stare at her, mute. How can I be out of words? I had thought about this moment ever since I left her apartment. I’m confused by her “us.” What do her texts mean? Does she mean let’s try to date or let’s marry tomorrow?
“Who let you in?” I fire the first question, as I study her.
She dangles a key chain, placing it back in her purse. “Fitz gave me the keys.”
Setting her tote bag on top of the green velvet mat of the pool table, she starts pulling boxes. I stand up, marching closer.
Carefully, she opens a black velvet box where the bracelet I gifted her for her birthday appears. The charms already attached to it.
“Do you recognize this?”
I nod.
“Let’s call it evidence.”
Then, she starts opening the rest of the small boxes. Tons of charms I bought during my trips.
“I didn’t get it,” she says, picking up the lucky charm and hooking it to the bracelet. “Why you’d be sending random trinkets. Other than you were thinking of me.”
She picks up the Eifel tower, attaching it. “The place I told you I was dying to visit.” Then, the yin and yang charm. “Now, why would you send me the symbol of balance, Hunter?”
I shrug.
“This was half way through your trip. You felt compelled to tell me you were reaching that place.”
“It’s a charm.”
She places the Celtic knot in the middle of the table. “Would you like to tell me more about this?”
“It’s a Celtic knot.”
“This knot symbolizes love,” she corrects me, tracing the two connected hearts with her fingers.
“Each charm you sent wasn’t just because you saw it and thought something like, ‘she’ll enjoy it.’” She sighs. “You were right. That day, the night of my birthday everything changed. Your letter was a premonition. We wouldn’t be the same again.”
She gives me a small box. I open it. Two puzzle pieces with an inscription. One says You are my, and the other says missing piece.
“Love is a hard concept for me to grasp.”
The corner of her lips stretch. “Falling in love is an art. It takes time to get to know someone so deeply that you can finish their sentences or know what they are thinking without them speaking.” She wiggles her nose. “But we had that serendipitous moment where our souls were able to have a glimpse of ‘what if.’ I think that’s what you said. No one before that day had seen me at my lowest point. I guess you saw the real me, and the scary part is that you liked it.”
She touches the base of her neck with her left hand, swallowing. “I felt that fire in my soul. You created it.” She walks to me, extending her hand. I take it feeling it. “We produce it every time we are around each other.” She pauses. “I. Love. You.” Her voice is firm, sweet and honest.
“I can’t tell you when I fell in love with you. Definitely not when we met, but somewhere in between our fake honeymoon and while you were away.” She moves her hand over the table, caressing each charm. “Every night I had the need to tex
t you, and every day I went to check the mail for your packages. It wasn’t the size, nor the price. It was that even when you were far from me, you still thought of me.
“I wasn’t in love with the idea of you. I was falling in love with the man who made sure that I saw that he was thinking of me. That no matter the distance between us, he was next to me.” She sighs. “I’ll never be ready to handle you. You’re too intense.”
My eyes close, and I take a step back and exhale before opening my eyes.
“So, we’ll have to navigate this life with big warning signs.”
“Warning signs?” I crook an eyebrow.
“Explosive, unstable, insecure, always handle with care.” She smiles. “Those are my labels. Yours are: bigger than life, spontaneous, and not sure how to explain that thing you like to do the most.”
“What thing?”
“Surprise the hell out of me. I don’t like surprises.”
I nod several times. “I can see that being a problem we’d have to work on often. Maybe you should be prepared to receive surprises, at least twice a day?”
She angles her head, laughing. “I can get used to it.” Her hand extends, reaching out to mine.
“I shouldn’t have pretended everything was fine when I saw my parents. That I understood their behavior or feel guilty for not being able to help my mother.” She shakes her head. “I shoved everything away, letting it rot until one little thing created a major catastrophe.”
“It wasn’t little.”
“But it was one thing that as a single situation could’ve been easier to assimilate,” she continues. “I didn’t sleep all night because my dear sister shouldn’t cook—ever. She came barging in looking for tampons. My reactivity to emotions was too high.” She chuckles.
“High is mildly putting it,” I joke, and a humorous smile turns up the corner of her mouth.
“So you’re not ready for us?”
She nods.
“But you’re here.”
“I might never be ready. There’ll be a smidgen of guilt inside my heart that will never go away.” She squeezes my hand. “Like I said, we have to work for this. It’ll be hard. Some days, it’ll feel like we are taking five steps forward, and a couple back.”
She touches the heart charm, her eyes drifting around the table. Then, she looks into my eyes. “But as I learn how to dance through life, I want to do it with you by my side. It’s easier. You make it fun.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, embracing everything she’s saying. My voice shakes, my heart beats fast. “You’re aware that I’m still impulsive.”
She nods in response.
“That one day I’ll buy a ring. I’ll ask you to move in with me, to be my wife.” I pause, walking right next to her and taking her in my arms. “And I hope that you’ll marry me and we will move to the house I bought for us more than a year ago.”
“As long as you understand that I might send you daily texts asking if we are okay and if I’m still enough. That I’ll need to hear those words from you often.”
I nod, agreeing to whatever she wants as long as we can finally be together.
“It’s not because you haven’t loved me enough, but because some days are harder to live with myself than others.”
“Sounds like we can compromise, Miss Beesley. Should we seal the deal?”
“This won’t be easy or simple,” she says, as I pull her closer to me, tightening my grip. She shivers when I brush her lips with my knuckles. “Are you up for the ride?”
I look at those green, expecting eyes. Glad to know we are taking the next step. That we are both aware that our happy ending is going to have ups and downs. But it’ll be our story. “Why wouldn’t I? Have you heard that most people have more fun on a roller coaster than on a fucking merry-go-round?”
Without waiting for her response, I take her face in my hands. For a few beats, I stare, studying the brown freckle in her left eye. The birthmark on the side of her nose and her heart shaped lips. “You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever known.”
Leaning down, I tilt my head pressing my mouth to hers. She wraps her arms around my neck, and we kiss slowly, swaying. That’s how we stay for a long time. Being in each other’s arms, letting her know with every stroke of my tongue that I love her. That I’ll never leave her. That she has all of me. Just as I feel the chaos inside her mind finally calming, as much as her love for me.
She’s all mine.
The End
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Flawed. This love story is nothing like what I’ve written before. The inspiration came like only Willow could, a big storm of ideas and feelings. Willow and Hunter are characters I met while writing another book I had yet to publish. I knew how emotionally damaged Willow was, and how Hunter would go to the end of the world just to fight for them. And as I day dreamed about their story, I came to the realization that there are many of us who have emotional disorders, but not too many stories about our journeys, our love lives and our ultimate goal to reach a happily ever after.
Disorders like BDP, depression, anxiety and so many others are silent, deadly and misunderstood. It is so hard to explain how somedays one can’t get out of bed, or talk to another person without experiencing physical pain. These disorders affect the person who suffers them as much as their families. I myself have a grandmother with OCD and depression. A mother with BPD and well, I’m not far off since I have anxiety.
My wish after writing this book is to increase awareness, to learn to advocate for one another, and to support each other. It is hard to remember sometimes that we are loves, that there’s always someone who needs us and that we are worth loving, but we are.
Thank you so much for reading this book. For taking another piece of my heart—of myself—with you.
After finishing the book, and if you enjoyed it. Please do me a favor and leave a review. Spread the word telling others about it. Don’t forget that I love to hear from you, my readers, so please don’t hesitate to email me.
Thank you to all of you.
Sending you all my love and lots of hugs.
Claudia B.
Excerpts
I hope you enjoyed reading Flawed, keep reading for an extended excerpt of Fervent and Found (Harrison and Scott). Also, my bestselling Military Romance, Until I Fall.
Fervent
Luna
“If you had only one word to describe yourself, what would it be?”
“Hazel, focus on work only. How do you compensate for your weaknesses?” Scott Everhart, the CEO of Everhart Enterprises, overlaps the questions.
“Dedicated.” I turn my head slightly to the left of my computer screen, smiling to Hazel Beesley. According to my research, she’s his right hand. She’s also been featured in several business magazines as one of the most powerful women under thirty. While investigating the company, we didn’t find much about their personal lives. However, Lucas and I gathered that if I get on her good side, I get the job. “Loyal would be the second one.”
I turn to Scott, straightening my back. “My strengths and flaws aren’t what define me or my work. It’s the dedication and enthusiasm that I bring to the table while balancing my best assets and the challenges that the job brings.”
I wish I had flown to New York for this interview. It would be easier for me to read their body language in person. From where I sit— in my grandmother’s kitchen—it’s impossible to get an idea if they are interested or not. Multitasking is proving to be harder than I thought. I’m keeping one eye on the screen and the other one at the entrance of the kitchen to ensure that my dear abuelita stays away. Nothing ruins a job interview like the lovely woman offering me food saying I’m too skinny and with my narrow hips and tiny ass, I’m never going to find a man.
After she reminds me that I’m alone, I’ll politely tell her that she’s wrong. My ass is huge, my hips are fine, and I don’t need a man. The conversation is not fit for this important job interview.
/>
“Describe a time when you were asked to do something you weren’t trained to do. How did you handle it?” Scott asks a question I wasn’t ready to answer yet—or ever.
Well, I handled it as best as I could. My boss didn’t agree. I almost got fired, but they put me on probation for a couple of months instead. I was in therapy for a year because I hate killing people and using my gun. I fight them every time I want to go undercover . . . They don’t need to know any of that though, or that I’m an FBI agent. I perk up, flashing my best smile.
“There have been several times where I’ve had to steer away from my comfort zone. I guess the most recent was when my boss had a car accident.” I pause to add a little suspense, skipping the gory details attached to my last case, I continue, “I had to step into his shoes. It was a different role for me, but I took charge during the difficult moments, and in the end, everything worked out as we planned.”
“Difficult moments?” Hazel enunciates those words.
I nod. “We had a meeting with a potential client.” I reach for my glass of water and take a few sips. “Negotiating contracts when there’s a better choice within the price range for the client is challenging. I had to find a way to convince them that even though my offer wasn’t as attractive, it was the right one in the long run.”
“That’s the attitude we want for this position,” Hazel says with an approving smile.
If only she knew what I’m talking about. It happened a couple of months ago in the interrogation room. The better offer was twenty years in jail versus dying at the hands of a Colombian cartel. But I smile at her since I can’t release that kind of information. Patiently, I wait for the next question. If I play my cards right, these two might give me what I need.
Flawed Page 25
