Pretty Broken Hearts: A Pretty Broken Standalone

by Jeana E. Mann

  “I have a feeling your high school experience and mine were completely different.” I concentrated on spreading the egg mixture in the pan to avoid his eyes. “You were probably captain of the football team and prom king and class president.”

  “Guilty as charged.” He lifted a hand in the air. “But come on. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  I turned to look at him, hands on my hips. “Hang on a second.” The bookshelf in the living room housed my senior yearbook. I retrieved it and opened it on the counter in front of Rhett. “That’s me.”

  The picture still made me uncomfortable. I had thick glasses, an extra forty pounds of weight, frizzy red hair, and a bad case of acne. Rhett stared at the photo then glanced from me to the picture, as if he didn’t believe it. “Okay, so you’ve changed a bit. That’s a good thing, right? You should go and show them how hot you are.”

  “Um, still no.”

  “Who’s this guy?”

  I froze, a shiver of premonition running up my spine. My gaze followed his finger to the blond-haired, square-jawed boy in the photo next to me. “Walt Hunter.”

  Rhett flipped through the pages. “He’s on almost every page.”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t want to talk about Walt Hunter. With anyone. Ever again.

  “I’ll make you a deal. I have this work thing next weekend. If you’ll go there with me, I’ll go to this reunion with you.”

  “What kind of work thing?”

  “Nothing too complicated. It’s a cocktail party.”

  “I don’t know.” I turned to study his face. He stared back at me. One of his eyebrows lifted. Was this some kind of joke? “I don’t do well in social situations.”

  “If you don’t go with me, I’ll have to go by myself.” He scratched his fingers through the stubble on his jaw. Most of the time he was clean-shaven. The dark shadow added an air of danger to his chiseled features. “And everyone will try to fix me up with their divorced daughters and single sisters.”

  I set the spatula alongside the sink and braced both hands on the counter, thinking through the invitation. Rhett seemed sincere. And I’d been pushing a lot of personal boundaries lately. It might be fun. I wanted to believe I could do it. “I’d have to get something to wear.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes.” My palms began to sweat at the thought of meeting new people—his people. One glance into his eyes, and I knew it would be worth the risk. If I didn’t take this chance, I might never get another one.

  Chapter Eight

  Rhett

  After breakfast, we went for a walk. Bronte counted our steps beneath her breath. Sometimes she’d forget, distracted by our conversation, and had to start over. It was more cute than annoying. Despite her quirks, I liked being with her. She didn’t ask questions I didn’t want to answer. Best of all, she didn’t know the complicated history that went along with Amy’s death.

  At the High Street bridge, she touched my arm. “Hang on a second. I want to feed the ducks.” She dug through her purse for change to purchase food from the machine.

  I found four quarters in my pocket and handed them to her. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” She jogged to the square metal vending box. While her back was turned, I stole a moment to admire the way her tight yoga pants clung to her round ass. God bless the person who invented yoga pants. It had to be a man.

  She returned with a bag of brown pellets and offered a handful to me. I shook my head, preferring to watch her toss the food at the birds. Her delight was infectious. She laughed as the birds fought and squawked. When the food was gone, we leaned our elbows on the guardrail. Below us, ducks and swans glided over the smooth water and flapped their wings in triumph over a free meal.

  It was so easy to be with her. No expectations. No idle chit-chat. Long stretches of silence passed between us, but they were neither awkward nor uncomfortable. Most women either pitied me or wanted to fix me, but with Bronte, I could relax. She seemed satisfied with my company and unruffled by my frequent bouts of introspection.

  “Mondays are pretty busy for me at work,” I said as we walked back to her apartment. “But would you want to have lunch on Tuesday? If it’s nice, we could meet in the park across the street from our offices.”

  “Okay. Sure.” We didn’t look at each other, but our shoulders brushed, sending a tingle up my arm. She paused to rub her bicep. “We can brown bag it.”

  “Perfect.” I walked her to the doorstep and hovered while she found her keys. This wasn’t a date, but I had the urge to kiss her. “Bronte, wait.” She looked up at me with startled blue eyes. Something about her was so innocent, but she carried a layer of sadness below the surface. I brushed the back of my fingers over her cheek then leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry I puked on your floor and the whole naked thing. You’re a good sport.”

  A crimson tide swept up her neck. “You’re forgiven. Especially about the naked part.”

  “Are you teasing me?”

  “Yes.” A broad smile lit up her face, chasing away the underlying sadness. It warmed my heart to know I’d been able to return the favor and distract her from her sorrows.

  “So, I’ll see you around noon on Tuesday?”

  “Bye.” She paused inside the door to lift a hand. I trotted down the steps to the sidewalk. When I turned around, she’d already disappeared.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and strode down the street. Tall trees shaded the avenue, their leaves beginning to turn bright shades of yellow and orange. It was going to be a great day. While I walked, my thoughts turned to Bronte. I liked waking up with her. She’d felt good—right—in my arms. My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. I checked the caller ID—Carter.

  “What?” I asked and braced for a lecture.

  “Man, I need you to come get me.” His voice sounded distant, strained.

  “Is everything okay?” I stopped walking, to the great consternation of the couple behind me. I nodded apologetically and stepped to the side so they could pass. “You’d better not be in jail.”

  “I’m not in jail. I lost my wallet, and I need a ride. Just do me this favor and don’t ask any questions. I’ll explain later. And bring some pants.”

  I caught a cab back to my apartment, grabbed a T-shirt and sweats from the closet, and threw them into my car. The address Carter gave was on the northwest side of town. The houses were small and covered with peeling paint. Broken cement jutted up from the sidewalks. I circled the block twice but didn’t see him.

  I hit redial on my phone. He answered on the first ring. “I’m here,” I said. “Where are you?”

  “Park in the alley next to the Chinese restaurant.”

  “I swear to God, if this is one of your jokes, I’m going to kick your ass.”

  “Just do it.”

  I turned into the alley. It was narrow and dark, the kind of place where drug deals went down. Carter emerged from behind a Dumpster, naked from head to toe. He held a garbage can lid over his midsection. I threw open the door, and he dove inside.

  “Fuck me, I’m having a bad day,” he said, swiping a hand over his face. “You’re the best, man. I owe you big time for this.”

  “You want to explain?” I tossed the clothes at him.

  “That girl at the bar last night? Turns out she was married. Her husband came home in the middle of the night. I had to hide on the fire escape all fucking night. The witch kept my clothes and my wallet. I would’ve went after them, but he was big. Really big.” He stabbed his legs into the sweatpants and hauled them up to his waist. “Stop laughing.”

  I pulled the car to the curb at the next intersection and doubled over to hold my aching ribs. Carter stared at me, a scowl on his face, while I laughed until tears ran down my face. “I’m sorry, but it’s pretty funny.”

  He chuckled and shrugged. “Okay, so, yeah. It is.” That was the thing about Carter—nothing ever fazed him. He had some kind of invisible force field around his self-
confidence. “How about you? How’d you do?”

  “I did fine, no thanks to you. Fucker.” The thought of the girl at the bar made my stomach turn, especially after holding Bronte in my arms. “You left me there.”

  He punched my shoulder playfully. “You had it all under control. That chick was hot.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the last time I’m listening to you.”

  “Oh my God. Don’t tell me you spent the night alone again?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Anyone I know?” Carter sat up in his seat, eyes wide and alert. “Details, please.”

  For some reason, I couldn’t tell him about Bronte. Our relationship seemed too personal to share with anyone, and I didn’t want Carter deconstructing my motives for being with her. “Just a friend.”

  “Friend? Fuck that shit.” He shoved back in the seat and shook his head. “Are you gay? I’m serious. You’re either gay or the weirdest dude I’ve ever met.”

  “You know I’m not gay. Don’t be a dick.” I gave him a sidelong smirk. “Besides, I’m not listening to the advice of a guy who spent the night naked on a fire escape.”

  Carter considered this for a second then nodded. “Fair enough.” His gaze turned to the window. “Remember back in high school? It was raining pussy back then. You couldn’t walk down the street without some girl hitting on you. What happened to that guy?”

  “I met Amy,” I said. I hadn’t thought about her in hours, but just like that, she was back in my life.

  Chapter Nine

  Bronte

  Rhett and I arranged to have lunch at twelve-fifteen on Tuesday. I arrived six minutes early. He was three minutes late. I paced in front of the bench until I saw him round the bend of the path then I dove into my seat, pretending to scroll through emails on my phone.

  “Am I late?” he asked.

  “Yes.” The rest of my thoughts disappeared when I caught sight of his eyes. They were warm and gentle.

  “My meeting ran late.” As he spoke, he removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to reveal his sinewy forearms. Sexy, delectable arms.

  “Your eyes are gray today,” I murmured, falling headlong into their depths.

  “Must be going to rain,” he said.

  “They were blue on Sunday.”

  “Yeah?” He cocked his head, locking his gaze with mine. Flecks of navy, gold, and charcoal dotted his irises. One corner of his mouth curled up in his familiar lopsided grin. I smiled back, feeling his grin all the way into my center.

  “It’s caused by a change in the size of your pupils. When they dilate, they compress the pigments, causing the eye to darken. Unless, of course, you have heterochromia—either partial or central, which isn’t good. That usually happens when you’ve got a tumor or glaucoma or—” I stopped talking midsentence. His brows had drawn together. “Or it might just be the weather,” I concluded lamely.

  He threw his head back and laughed, a throaty, heartfelt sound. “Bronte, you never cease to amaze me.”

  I flushed and bit my lower lip, glancing down at the ground. “Most of the time, when people say that, it isn’t in a good way.” Jo had warned me to keep my nerd talk to myself. I waited for him to walk away, but instead, he took my brown paper bag and peered inside.

  “No, I mean it. You’re full of surprises.” He tapped the tip of my nose with an index finger. “Keep them coming.”

  “Deal.” A smile tugged at my lips.

  “So, what have we got here?” He dropped a hand into my brown paper bag and rustled around before drawing out the items, one by one. “An apple and a peanut butter sandwich. No jelly?”

  “It’s here.” I removed a plastic packet of jelly I’d brought from the coffee shop. “I don’t like to put the jelly on until the last minute.”

  “Because you don’t want to muddle the flavors?” he asked.

  “No, silly. Because the jelly bleeds into the bread and makes it soggy.”

  “Of course.” He nodded, his expression serious, but his eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement.

  “What did you bring?” I reached for his lunch bag. It was nylon, insulated, with a Porsche emblem on the side. I unzipped the top and peered inside. Everything was neat and orderly, organized to maximize space. “Very nice.”

  “I thought you’d appreciate it.” He winked at me. “And I brought this for you.” From inside his jacket, he withdrew a single, long-stemmed rose.

  “Thank you.” My pulse skipped a beat. No one had ever given me a flower before. I lifted the blossom to my nose and inhaled the sweet scent.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He seemed relaxed, long legs extended in front of him, one arm thrown over the back of the bench behind me. The wind ruffled his hair, giving him a boyish air. My fingers curled, resisting the urge to brush the unruly locks away from his forehead.

  “Hey, Rhett. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” A tall blond man stopped in front of us. His fingers threaded through the hand of a smiling brunette. Her opposite hand rested on the swell of her pregnant belly.

  “You’ve been working really hard. I’m glad you’re taking advantage of it,” she said.

  “Yeah, I guess summer’s over, but you wouldn’t know it by the weather today,” Rhett said. The woman’s gaze landed on me. “Hey, I’m sorry. This is Bronte Hollander. Bronte, this is Sam and Dakota Seaforth. Dakota’s my boss.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “Bronte’s going to the dinner with me on Saturday,” Rhett added.

  “Is that so?” Sam’s eyebrows lifted.

  Dakota’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s wonderful. I’m so glad.” Her genuine smile eased my nerves at meeting someone new. “Come and see me when you get there, will you, Bronte? I’ll make sure Rhett shows you a good time.”

  “Not a problem,” Rhett said.

  “Hey, let’s leave them alone so they can eat their lunches.” Sam tugged on his wife’s hand. “We’ll see you later.”

  “They seem nice,” I said, watching them stride along the pathway. Sam eased his arm around Dakota and dropped a kiss on her forehead. She leaned her head on his shoulder. I wanted that for myself someday, but the dream seemed too far out of reach. I knew in my heart that I was destined to be alone.

  “They’re awesome,” Rhett replied. “I still can’t believe they hired me. I didn’t have half as much experience as some of the other candidates, but Sam said he valued integrity and honesty over a nice resume. He’s all about developing his employees. A few years working for him, and I’ll be able to get a job anywhere in the world.”

  As my thoughts flitted from the Seaforths to their party on Saturday, butterflies began to tumble in my stomach. I’d have to meet new people in a strange environment where I had no control over anything. I swallowed hard and wiped my sweaty palms across my thighs.

  “Bronte?” Rhett touched my arm, jerking me into the present. “Are you okay?’

  “I don’t think I can go Saturday,” I said. It was better to be honest. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

  “You’re not backing out. You already promised.”

  “Will there be a lot of people there?”

  “I don’t know. A dozen or so couples.”

  “No, I can’t.” Panic began to swell inside me. I threw the half-eaten sandwich into the bag, preparing to flee.

  “Bronte. Stop.” His words stilled my frantic movements. “Hey.” Warm fingertips grazed the curve of my jaw. When I looked into his eyes, the frantic beating of my heart shifted into a new rhythm. “You don’t have to be scared. Not with me at your side. I promise to take good care of you.”

  “You will?”

  “The best.”

  Jo’s voice squealed through the phone. I held it away from my ear and grimaced. Dogs must have been howling for a two-mile radius. “Are you kidding me? You’re going to have dinner with Samuel Seaforth?”

  “Yes. Why wou
ld I lie?” I asked, confused at the question.

  “Because he’s only the richest, hottest guy on the planet,” she shouted.

  “I don’t know about that, but he seems very nice. And so does his wife.”

  “You freaking met Dakota Seaforth? Oh, my God. Wait till I tell Dad. He’s going to shit.”

  “Stop yelling and pay attention,” I said, feeling my patience wane. “I need help. It’s a cocktail party, and I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Okay, sorry.” Her heavy breathing carried across the phone. She sounded like she’d just finished a footrace. “Of course, I’ll help. Leave it all to me.”

  Chapter Ten

  Rhett

  It wasn’t a date, but as I waited outside Bronte’s apartment door on Saturday night, it sure felt like one. I smoothed my palms over the lapels of my suit and checked my watch again. It was exactly seven o’clock. I knocked three times.

  Jo opened the door. “Hey, you’re right on time. Come in.” She stepped to the side and motioned toward the living room. “Bronte’s almost ready.”

  “How’ve you been?” I asked.

  “Good. We’ve missed you at the coffee shop.” I followed her to the sofa. She perched on the opposite arm, studying me. “You know, just because Bronte’s not there doesn’t mean you can’t come visit.”

  “Of course not. I’ll definitely be back.” The air between us shifted subtly. Jo crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. I cleared my throat. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bronte needed a little help getting ready. You know, a sister thing.” I had no idea what she was talking about, having two brothers myself, but nodded. “And I was hoping to talk to you for a minute.”

  “What’s up?” The tone of warning in her voice set my senses to high alert.