Unbreak My Heart

by Nicole Jacquelyn

  My face heated as I rubbed my thumb up and down the side of his neck, clearing my throat. “When you first came to Aunt Ellie and Uncle Mike’s, you were so quiet,” I told him, meeting his emotion-filled eyes. “I could usually read people, but you—I couldn’t tell what you were thinking. I watched you, you know?”

  He nodded, smiling slightly.

  “Well, I finally noticed that if you were upset, or mad, or even happy, you swallowed hard. Just once sometimes, but it always happened. I learned to watch for that.”

  “Weird,” he whispered.

  “I knew what you were doing when I caught you kissing Rachel because your faces were so close together, but for a second you raised your head, and I saw you swallow hard.”

  “That was such a shitty thing to do.”

  “Yeah, you were such a little asshole,” I agreed, running my hand down his chest to pinch his nipple.

  “Ow!” he yelped, catching my hand and bringing it back to his neck.

  “I put my hand on your throat”—I followed the words with the movement—“because even if you’re not saying anything, I can physically feel your emotion. It’s a million times better when I know that emotion’s for me.”

  “Marry me,” he whispered hoarsely, searching my eyes as he placed his hand over mine and I felt his Adam’s apple bob. “Be my wife.”

  “Yes.”

  Epilogue

  Shane

  Tell me again why you’re wearing all that junk on your face,” I said to my girl, switching lanes so I could pull off the freeway.

  “Because Auntie Kate said I could!” Sage replied, glancing over at me. “Since it’s a special night.”

  Kate had adopted the kids less than a month after we’d married, and the little boys started calling her “Mom” right away—probably because Iris did. Keller had taken a little longer to feel comfortable with the idea, but he’d eventually started doing it, too. Sage, though—well, she remembered her mom clearly, and when she continued to call Kate “Auntie Kate” long after the adoption, we hadn’t mentioned it. That was her decision. It didn’t matter what she called Kate; their bond was set in stone.

  “I don’t know why you need makeup on to go to a coffeehouse,” I grumbled. “It’s dark in there anyway.”

  “Because I’m a girl and girls wear makeup,” she said, losing patience with me.

  “Not at thirteen.”

  “Can you just drop it? Geez, Dad!”

  “Fine,” I said, pulling my truck into the parking lot already filled with cars.

  I hopped out of the truck and walked around the hood to help Sage out. She hated when I did shit like that, but I couldn’t help myself. She was my little girl, and I was hoping that, if I continued to open doors for her and make sure I walked on the outside of the sidewalk, she’d remember that when she started dating and had to decide which boys she’d spend her time with.

  “You’re such a dork,” she told me as I crooked my elbow for her to grasp.

  “You think I’m awesome, don’t lie,” I retorted, opening the front door and ushering her inside.

  We found a table off to the side of the room, and I smiled as I watched Sage glance around us at all the teenagers. She was quite a bit younger than most of them, and I knew she was feeling a little nervous about being there with her dad.

  “Hey, guys, can I get you anything to drink?” a young kid in an apron asked us right after we’d sat down, flipping his bangs off his forehead as he stared at Sage.

  “Can I have a hot chocolate?” Sage asked softly, blushing.

  Oh hell no.

  “Black coffee,” I barked, making the kid jump.

  “Uh, sure thing,” he mumbled, backing up a step before spinning around.

  “Seriously, Dad?” Sage hissed, glancing around us.

  “What?” I knew exactly what. I’d been a jackass, but I wasn’t about to explain that that boy had been checking out my thirteen-year-old daughter right in front of me. Better that she had no idea about the effect she had on the opposite sex.

  “Hey, San Diego,” a familiar voice called out over the speakers. “How you guys doing tonight?”

  The room filled with cheers, and Sage’s face lit up as she looked past me toward the stage.

  “Aren’t you guys sweet?” Kate rasped with a short chuckle. “I love coming in to play for you. You’re good for my ego.”

  The crowd grew even louder, and I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.

  “If you’re new to our little open-mike night, there’s a coffee can being passed around. Who’s got it?” She paused. “Okay, see the boy in the yellow shirt? Raise your hand, Colby. There, that guy. When you get ahold of that coffee can, drop in a few dollars if you can and pass it on.”

  The crowd clapped, and she chuckled again over the sound system.

  The clear notes of a single guitar came through the speakers, and I watched Sage freeze as the entire room went silent. Even the baristas behind the counter stopped what they were doing to watch the stage as Kate began to sing.

  My eyes were glued to Sage as the sound of Kate’s voice hit me the way it always did.

  Even after five years together, she still took my breath away when she sang. She was incredible. My eyes finally left Sage’s enraptured face, and I turned to see Kate in a flowing red flowered dress, her lips and eyes painted dark. She knew exactly what she was doing, and the kids around the room freaking loved her.

  She hadn’t sung in public for quite a while after Iris was born, but a little more than a year ago she’d mentioned that she wanted that creative outlet again. I’d supported her wholeheartedly.

  There was something about her self-confidence onstage that just did it for me, and I was willing to pay a couple of girls in our new neighborhood to watch the kids for an hour or two so I could take her for a night out once or twice a month.

  When we’d moved from Oceanside almost a year after Iris was born, Kate had been nervous that the kids would never make any friends and we’d never be able to find a babysitter again. Fortunately, she’d been wrong on both counts, and our small cul-de-sac was filled with families with both little kids and teenagers. It was pretty much the best neighborhood we could have chosen.

  We could go out once a week, even if it was just for a quick dinner, and sometimes we were even able to catch a movie afterward. But my favorite nights—by far—were the ones I watched my wife on stage. Kate loved performing, especially for charity, and I loved watching her have fun. It was a win-win.

  “Pretty cool, huh?” I asked Sage, smiling as she waved off the kid who brought our drinks when he stepped between her and the stage.

  “Shh, Dad! She’s been practicing this Ella Henderson song forever. She’s completely slowed down the tempo. I wanna hear!”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, laughing a little.

  Sage wasn’t particularly talented when it came to playing instruments—that was where Gunner excelled—but she had a really good ear. I didn’t understand most of what she and Kate discussed, but apparently Sage could understand music composition better than most people twice her age. Kate was begging me to let her get Sage a turntable and a mixer, but I was dragging my feet…I liked the way my wife tried to talk me into things.

  Kate moved on to another song without a break, and Sage bounced in her seat a little, bumping the table so our drinks spilled. She didn’t even notice as I used some napkins to clean up the mess.

  “Hey, you two in the corner!” Kate called into the mike when I’d finally gotten the mess cleaned up. “Aren’t you a little old for her?”

  The crowd laughed as they figured out who Kate was talking about, and Sage dropped her blushing face into her hands—completely mortified.

  Kate was smiling so brightly that she looked giddy. “That’s my little girl, right there. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

  Sage’s face popped up in astonishment, and the crowd laughed and cheered quietly.

  “I wanna know who the guy is!
” a girl called out from across the room, making everyone laugh.

  “Eh, that’s just my husband,” Kate answered flatly, causing the crowd to snicker.

  She met my eyes across the room, smiling brightly, and slid her hand behind her guitar where I knew she hid a slight roundness. We weren’t telling anyone she was pregnant yet, instead taking a little time just for us to relish the news in secret. It would be our last baby, and we wanted to enjoy the intimacy of her first few months without having to share it.

  My wife winked and blew me a kiss, then grinned before looking away—starting in on the next song as if she hadn’t just made my stomach drop.

  I glanced around me and rubbed my hand over my face, forcing myself not to walk up there and pull her off the stool like some kind of caveman. I was trying not to imagine taking her home to bed so she could wrap those dark red lips around my cock.

  As she sang the chorus of the new song, Kate’s eyes found mine again and her smile widened. She knew exactly what she’d done, and she found it hilarious.

  She was going to pay for that shit later.

  Bram and Anita may be like oil and water, but the sparks they generate prove that opposites attract. When life throws them a curve, however, a no-strings relationship may no longer be enough…

  Please turn the page for a preview from

  A Change of Heart.

  Chapter 2

  Anita

  I was distracting myself. It was stupid. I knew that I shouldn’t be following Bram through the streets of downtown Portland, but when he’d left the house in such a hurry, I’d been curious.

  Okay, I’d been dying to know where he was going.

  Bram wasn’t exactly social. I could count on one hand the number of friends he had, and he’d never brought a woman home. Sure, I’d seen him leaving with chicks from one of the local bars—but he never actually introduced them to us. So where was he going at nine o’clock on a Friday night?

  I let the question roll over and over in my brain, taking my mind off the things I actually should be worrying about, as Bram parallel-parked across from a dive bar. What the hell? There wasn’t much else on the street so I knew that was where he must be headed, but why?

  Pulling around the corner, I parked in the smallest parking spot ever made and jogged toward the entrance of the bar. Bram had already gone inside, and when I glanced at the patrons smoking near the entrance, I groaned and looked down at myself. My jeans and flannel shirt were perfect for dinner at the Evans house, but I was going to stick out like a sore thumb if I tried to go inside.

  I stepped quickly back around the corner as I unbuttoned my top, making a homeless guy down the street wolf whistle. Jesus. Keeping one eye on the man sitting on the sidewalk, I pulled the shirt down my shoulders and tied it around my waist, leaving me in a black cami. That should work. I bent at the waist and scrubbed my fingers through my short, dark hair, then rose back up as I reached inside my nose and pulled down my septum piercing so it was visible. The retainer was easily hidden when I was around Dan and Liz, and I didn’t think either of them even knew I’d gotten it pierced. I loved it—I thought it looked badass, but my foster parents really wouldn’t and I didn’t want to deal with their kind but scolding comments about my “pretty face.” I’d gotten enough of that when I’d dyed my hair blue my sophomore year in college.

  Rifling through my bag, I pulled out a deep-purple lip crayon and used a rearview mirror to color in my lips and smooth my crazy hair a little. Perfect. I walked back around the building and made my way to the door as I slid my tongue ring in and twisted the ball on the end a few times to secure it.

  The hipsters at the door ignored me as I walked past, acting like their damn clove cigarettes held the answers to the universe, and I couldn’t help but snort as I stepped inside. Acting like you don’t care doesn’t make you look cool; it just makes it look like you’re trying too hard. I could practically feel their bespectacled gazes on my flannel-covered ass. Take a good look, guys.

  “Welcome to open-mike night,” a guy called into a microphone as I bellied up to the bar and slid my ass onto a stool. “For those of you who’re new here—the rules are simple. We don’t want to hear your song about the melting glaciers in Alaska or the time you drove your VW bus to the Grand Canyon. Covers only, folks. You sing an original song, we’ll boo your ass off the stage.”

  The crowd laughed, and my lips twitched as I looked at the guy on a small stage across the room. He was tall and lanky with a short beard and a shirt that said, BEER ME. Good looking, if you were into skinny guys.

  “Got a friend starting us off tonight while you pussies get up the courage to sign in. Abraham?” the guy called, looking off to the darkened side of the stage.

  My mouth dropped open as Bram stepped on stage, a worn guitar dangling from his hand. What in fucking fuck?

  “Hefeweizen,” I called, glancing at the pretty, tattooed bartender who was leaning across the bartop next to me. “A shot of tequila, too, please.”

  She nodded and pulled her eyes away from Bram to get my drinks.

  “Hello, Portland,” Bram said softly, making my stomach do a weird somersault. “Haven’t been on stage in a while, so you’ll have to bear with me.”

  “Yeah, ’cause you’re an asshole,” the tall, skinny guy called out.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m here now,” Bram grumbled, making the crowd chuckle. “Can I sing, or are you gonna keep running your mouth?”

  “By all means,” Tall Skinny Guy replied, throwing his arms out.

  “First song, you might not know—”

  “No originals!” Tall Skinny Guy yelled as the bartender slid my drinks over the counter.

  Bram went completely still and turned his head slowly toward the side of the stage while the crowd snickered.

  “Fine. Fine. Go ahead,” Tall Skinny Guy said over the crowd.

  “Jesus.” Bram shook his head. “And I worried I’d be late.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the way the crowd was eating Bram up. He was working them—Bram who rarely got along with anyone and walked around with a permanent scowl—and held the crowded bar in the palm of his hand.

  “Like I said, you might not recognize this one—but it’s not one of mine so Jay can shut the fuck up and let me do it,” Bram said, leaning into the mike with a small smile on his face as he settled himself more comfortably on the bar stool he was perched on. “This is ‘Thief and a Liar’ by Jeffrey Martin.”

  By the noise of the crowd, I guessed they knew who he was talking about—but I’d never heard of him.

  The minute Bram began to play, my heart began thumping hard in my chest. I couldn’t tell if it was nervousness or excitement. When his voice came through the speakers again, I think I stopped breathing.

  He sang, his voice a little raspy but seriously good, and I spun away, taking the shot fast before chasing it with my beer. My hands were shaking as I pulled the orange off the rim of my glass and dropped it into the glass. I wanted to turn back around and see him, but for the first time since I’d walked into the bar, I felt weird about the way I’d followed him.

  It was odd. I was watching Bram do something that he’d obviously not wanted us to know about, but I was the one who felt naked.

  After a few moments, I turned back around holding my beer in front of me just so I’d have something to do with my hands…and met Bram’s eyes from across the room.

  Oh God. I’d thought that the dim spotlight on him would hide me from view, but when I’d sat at the bar, the lights behind it had illuminated me.

  “I am a thief and a liar of the very worst kind. Oh, I sell to the broken and I rob them blind. I will build you a house with my own two hands, and then burn it to the ground as quick as I can.” Bram’s voice didn’t falter, not even when he raised his eyebrows as if to say, I caught you.

  I swallowed hard and glanced away, bringing my beer to my lips like nothing was wrong as I slid slowly off the stool. I wondered if I’d make it
out the doors without him catching me. Part of me thought that he’d ignore my departure and keep going, but the other part of me knew that if I took one step away from my bar stool, he’d be calling me out over the damn speaker system.

  As Bram strummed the last chord of the song, the crowd burst out in applause, and he smiled wide, glancing around in front of him.

  “Damn, you guys have a lot of energy. I’ve been up since four a.m. I think it’s past my bedtime,” he said jokingly as he scratched at his beard. “You want one more?”

  Whistling and cheering came through the room, and I wondered how often he came to this bar to sing. The people seemed to know him, or at least recognize him.

  “All right. One more.” He repositioned on his stool. “Pretty sure you’ll know this one. This is ‘First’ by Cold War Kids.”

  Bram’s eyes came back to me, and I fumbled with my empty beer glass, setting it on the bartop behind me.

  He crooned into the mike, slowing down the familiar song.

  Holy shit. He was going to kill me.

  I stood frozen through the entire song, and Bram’s eyes never left me. When he was done, he climbed off the stool, and I calculated my distance from the front door as I pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of my purse and threw it on the bar.

  I took one step toward freedom, my eyes on Bram, when his head slowly shook from side to side warning me to stay put.

  “Your turn to entertain me,” Bram said, leaning down toward the microphone. The crowd cheered, but his words were for me.

  “We’ll entertain you,” a tall girl called out, her arm wrapped around her much shorter friend as they swayed. The entire bar erupted in laughter, and the girl’s face dropped as her eyes went wide. She was drunk, but apparently not drunk enough to ignore the fact that she’d just made an ass out of herself.

  Bram’s eyes went soft as he glanced over, then he leaned back into the mike again and nodded toward me. “Sorry, beautiful, but my girl’s waiting for me at the bar.”