Our Broken Pieces (The Pieces Series Book 1)

by M. E. Clayton

  A part of me had wondered if she was jealous, but I hadn’t wanted to taint our friendship with those negative thoughts because Margot was a good person. However, whenever Gage was near, I could see her disdain for his possessiveness. Once we’d gone public, Gage had gone all out in letting everyone know that nothing mattered to him but me. And while Chance had been possessive, he hadn’t been consuming the way Gage had been. And knowing that she ratted us out made me wonder if I’d been right all along.

  “Mystic, she’s just concerned for you, like we all are,” my mother said, defending Margot.

  I wasn’t even going to ask why they didn’t come to me first. It didn’t matter now. “Gage is not abusing me,” I insisted. “And even if he was, I’m of legal age. What happens between us is none of your business.”

  It was the wrong thing to say.

  My father looked like he was going to explode. “You think so?” he seethed. “Because I have news for you, Mystic. You live in California. And, in California, it’s not up to you if charges are pressed for domestic abuse or not. The courts can prosecute if there’s evidence and they think it’s in your best interest.”

  My eyes widened and my entire body shook. “Wh…what? What are you talking about, Dad?”

  He got in my face as he said, “You will never speak to that boy ever again, do you hear me? If you do, I will personally make sure he spends the twenty years in prison!”

  I jumped out of my chair again, forcing him to step back. “What?!”

  “Mystic.” I whirled around towards Mr. Grant’s voice. “Margot told us everything. We know he’s been doing this to you for years.”

  I never thought it’d be possible for me to hate the only friend I’ve ever had, but here I was, feeling nothing but hate and anger. “He’s not doing anything to me,” I denied again. “Why won’t you guys believe me? Why do you believe her?”

  “Because the bruising on your body back up her statements,” Mrs. Lemas answered.

  “What we do is…mutual! Consensual!” I yelled. I felt like I was losing my mind.

  “Not during the time he was eighteen and you were only seventeen, Mystic,” my father countered, ruining my life with that one simple sentence.

  I shook my head. “No.” When everyone in the room remain silent, I shouted out. “NO!”

  “It’s simple, Mystic,” my father replied. “Go anywhere near that boy again and I will make sure he goes to prison for statutory rape and domestic abuse.”

  “You can’t do that!” My heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest.

  “I can, and I will,” he threatened. “And even if I can’t make it stick, the accusations, alone, will ruin him.” My father was a corporate attorney, but I knew he knew and hung out with other attorneys. Being a lawyer, I had no doubt he could do what he was threatening.

  I was going to lose Gage.

  “Don’t do this, Dad,” I begged. “I…I love him. It’s not what you guys think!”

  “Abuse is not love,” my mother said sadly, like she pitied me. Like I was a victim.

  “He’s not abusing me!” I denied for the millionth time. I turned towards Mrs. Berny. “Please, Mrs. Berny, it’s not what you guys think.”

  “Mystic.” I turned back towards Mr. Grant. “If you do not agree to stop seeing Gage Evans, not only will your father move forward with his arrest, but he will be expelled and his chances at college or a future will no longer be possible.”

  My hands found themselves in my hair and I pulled, screaming.

  Did they not realize what they were demanding from me?

  At one time, I believed I’d have to leave Gage once we graduated, but these past few months, Gage had made it clear that we were forever, and I fell into the picture he painted with everything I had. Leaving him was going to destroy me.

  I turned back towards my father. “Dad, plea-”

  “If you love this boy like you say you do, then don’t ruin his only chance at a life, Mystic,” he cruelly said. “Give him and yourself the chance to find a healthy happiness.”

  “You guys don’t understand,” I sobbed. “You guys don’t understand.”

  “I understand that I’m not going to stand by and let some boy, or any guy for that matter, abuse my daughter, Mystic,” my dad replied. “Understand this, Mystic, like you’ve never understood anything else in your life. If you do not walk away from that boy, I will not stop until his life is ruined.”

  Defeated.

  That’s what I was.

  Defeated.

  Only, I didn’t know just how brutal the loss in this war was going to be. Even as I agreed to stop seeing Gage, I had this half-ass plan of telling him everything and running off together.

  And I would have.

  I would have followed Gage Evans anywhere, everywhere.

  But that afternoon, after I lied to everyone and told them I’d never speak to him again, my parents had taken my phone and my tablet and had driven me to the airport, where they had announced that my Aunt Rosie had agreed to let me stay with her for a while, until things ‘cooled down’. My parents and the school had planned everything out even before asking for my side. The school transfer had already been completed.

  Aunt Rosie lived in Montana and not in the urban areas. I lived with her on an honest-to-God Montana ranch, with spotting wi-fi connection that she only used for her work computer. With only a landline to talk to my parents on, it wasn’t until two weeks later that I had managed to sneak onto my aunt’s work computer and reached out to Gage.

  However, after logging onto every social media account I had, it was evidently clear that Gage hadn’t wanted to hear from me. I had been blocked from everything that was Gage Evans. He hadn’t wanted to hear my reasons. He hadn’t wanted an explanation. At the same time that I was still planning on running away with him, he was blocking me from his life.

  Heartbreak really was a damaging sonofabitch.

  Chapter 14

  Gage~

  She left me.

  Mystic fucking left me.

  No reason.

  No explanation.

  She caved to the pressure, and for that, Mystic Anderson was dead to me.

  Mystic Anderson was dead to me, and she’d better hope I never lay eyes on her ever again.

  Part

  ∞∞∞

  II

  Chapter 15

  Mystic – (Ten Years Later)~

  Mean girls sucked.

  They were like vicious leeches sucking out everything good in the world. And-newsflash-they didn’t fade away after high school. Nope. They existed in college and well into adulthood. They were everywhere and there was no escaping them. From the cashier who looks down her nose at your coupons to socialites who snub anyone not wearing designer clothing.

  Them. Bitches. Were. Everywhere.

  And starting my first day at Cavanaugh Industries, I was quickly learning that they were here, too.

  In droves.

  Okay...maybe not in droves. But for someone who did her best to stay out of the limelight, one or two were one or two too many, in my opinion. I didn’t want to have to deal with territorial children, but I also wasn’t one to not stand up for myself, so I was hoping the resident mean girls at Cavanaugh Industries would find me boring enough to just let me be. I wasn’t holding out too much hope, though. Mean girls couldn’t be mean girls if they didn’t have victims, and I was fairly sure I was up to bat, being the new girl and all.

  Of course, at twenty-eight-years-old, I was well past the age where being snubbed would send me running to the women’s restroom to cry myself stupid in an empty stall. These days, I had enough life experience to know that people not liking you was just a sad part of life. Some people clicked and some people didn’t, and that was okay. I also learned that the less people in your life, the less likely you were to get stabbed in the back. Even if I had no more secrets to keep, I still didn’t trust people. That happens when your family and friends betray you. Howeve
r, that betrayal made me the strong woman I was today. Yeah, I might be cold, lonely, and empty, but I was no longer anyone’s doormat.

  I had gotten my degree in business management, but that was as far as my ambitions had gone. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice myself for others anymore, so I didn’t. All I wanted was to earn a wage to support myself and screw the rest.

  For ten years, it worked for me until Marksman Financial fell into a decline and we were forced to look for other jobs. Stanley Marksman had led a successful financial powerhouse, but once he retired and his good-for-nothing son had taken over, well, let’s just say business took a backseat to an extravagant partying lifestyle. Stanley Jr. had driven his father’s company into the ground, and no one escaped unscathed from Stanley Jr.’s misdirection.

  After looking for a job for two months, I finally landed a position as one of the many administrative assistants for Cavanaugh Industries. It didn’t pay as much as what I was making at Marksman Financial, but at Marksman’s I’d had ten years of seniority and raises, where here I’d be starting near the bottom. I was essentially going to be an assistant’s assistant. It didn’t matter, though. The pay was still great for an entry level gig and Chicago wasn’t cheap.

  Hell, nowhere was cheap. However, I liked my life quiet and tidy and I hadn’t been looking forward to having to move or downsize. And so, this opportunity came at the perfect time as my savings had started to quickly dwindle down to nothing. People judge homelessness as if it’s a choice. And for some, maybe it is. For others, it’s just one paycheck short of their house of cards tumbling down all around them.

  Donning my most professional business attire, a white short-sleeved button up with a grey pencil skirt, paired with four-inch black heels, I followed Sadie Welsh as she led me to my assigned cubicle. The floor plan was open with partitioned cubicles everywhere and private offices lining the left side of the floor and a breakroom and two conference rooms lining the right side. I had been hoping for a cubicle nearest the conference rooms because it seemed quiet in that area, but Sadie led me to the last cubicle nearest the private offices.

  I didn’t like it, but I was hardly going to complain. However, it was as Sadie and I made our way through the aisle that I noticed out of the corner of my eye the side-glances and looks of both smiles and frowns. Seeing as how I hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Sadie, the frowns weren’t warranted.

  Again.

  Mean Girls.

  I smiled back at the people who smiled at me and ignored the rest. Eating was more important than getting invited to afterwork drinks. My bills needed to be paid more than I needed new friends.

  When we reached the last cubicle, Sadie turned to me and gestured towards the chair. “This is you, Mystic,” she said smiling. Sadie had met me in the lobby, eight floors down, and had informed me that she’d been assigned to my training. She had appeared friendly and I hadn’t gotten the vibe that she felt like the assignment was beneath her or an inconvenience to her day. Sadie had been truly welcoming, and I was thankful to not have been saddled with a Mean Girl.

  I glanced around my work area and it was standard as far as administrative cubicles went. It had a computer, keyboard, phone, desk accessories, etc. I noticed the cubicle also came with a slim built-in closet for personal storage. All in all, it wasn’t bad.

  Sadie dangled a ring of keys at me. “These are your set of keys. There’s one for your cubicle closet, one for your desk drawers, one for the supply closet, one for the elevator, one for the women’s restroom on this floor, and one for the front office building,” she explained. My employee badge had been given to me by security when I had signed in. Apparently, not just anyone could waltz into Cavanaugh Industries.

  I cocked my head. “Why would I need a key for the front door or restroom?”

  “A lot of the doors lock with automatic timers,” she replied. “However, a lot of us work around the clock during budgets or deadlines, so we need access to the restrooms and building during off hours.”

  I nodded in understanding. I didn’t think I’d be working around the clock at this level, but I could be wrong. I didn’t know much about Cavanaugh Industries, other than they were hiring and I needed to be hired.

  “Follow me and I’ll show you where everything else is located, including my cubicle, in case you need to find me for anything,” she said, again, smiling like she was genuinely happy to meet me.

  I followed her for the next half hour as she showed me around the eighth floor. We checked to make sure all my keys worked, and then she took me up the elevator to the twenty-first floor, where the CEO and owner of Cavanaugh Industries was located, and she worked her way down each floor explaining who lived where and what they did.

  Once we got back to our floor, she stayed with me as we powered up my computer and she helped me create user profiles for whatever I needed. She had informed me that our IT department was the best, and the second my H.R. paperwork had gone through, IT had set me up with everything I’d need. I just needed to create my passwords, and so forth.

  Sadie was kind enough to sit with me through lunch and give me the layout of the nearest restaurants and delis. She also had promised to make me copies of to-go menus she had stuffed in her desk. The day had been promising, and while Sadie introduced me to a few people, the Mean Girls had made themselves known rather unapologetically.

  The worst of them was Reagan Contreras, who just happened to occupy the private office directly across from my workstation. She had been polite enough to acknowledge the introduction, but the snotty look in her eyes had been very apparent.

  She was the one to watch out for or try to avoid altogether.

  Good times.

  Chapter 16

  Gage~

  Looking out at the city of Chicago, I could see the clouds rolling in and it felt ominous, like a premonition. The sky was dark, and I couldn’t help but feel a kinship with the darkness that was ready to blanket the city with depression instead of sunny, happy thoughts.

  I loved the dark.

  I loved the cold.

  I loved the clouds, the rain, the lightening, and thunder. I especially loved it when it hailed. I liked the idea of nature throwing down lotteries of possible damage. I wanted the world to be dark because then, that way, I could live my life without faking bullshit pleasantries. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t give a fuck what people thought of me, but even I knew it wasn’t financially beneficial to be a complete dick to everyone all the time.

  I turned away from the window to face my desk and I knew I’d be working this weekend. But that wasn’t anything new. I worked around the clock regularly, and the non-stop grind had paid off and continued to pay off. Stymic Financial Holdings had its fingers in just about damn near everything and I had no plans on letting up anytime soon.

  I could go on and on about hard work and repeat the bullshit speeches I’ve given over the years, but I was driven by a much darker force. I worked myself sleepless to stay ahead of my demons and it didn’t hurt that my IQ was 127 either. Now, while I wasn’t intelligent enough to find the cure for cancer, I was smart enough to create millions out of nothing. And that nothing came in the form of a shattered soul that even my mother, with all her psychiatrist experience, couldn’t help me with. And she tried.

  Lord, how she tried.

  However, all she got out of the deal was a son who still spoke to her on occasion, even though she called a few times a week. Now, don’t get me wrong. I loved my mother; I loved her so damn much. But my love for her couldn’t drown out the misery that consumed my life. Sure, on paper, I was everything a successful man should be, but darkness was what drove my ambitions, not love.

  As for my father, I stopped speaking to him the day I graduated high school. He and my mother were still married, but as far as I was concerned, I only had one parent. I hated my father something fierce, and I made no secret of it as I’d grown older. He also downplayed it for my mother because, the second I had left for college, he
quickly realized he couldn’t control me anymore. He knew he had no more leverage to use against me, other than my mother’s happiness and my love for her.

  We were engaged in a cold war. I didn’t speak to or about him, and he extended that same curtesy. And my mother stopped asking questions years ago.

  Sitting down, I pulled up the Darwin report, and did my best not to groan. Lawrence Darwin needed an investor for his battery longevity creation, which wasn’t a bad product. However, the more I met with the man, the more apparent it was that he just wanted money from someone to make his dream of being rich come true. He didn’t want a partner or an investor really. He wanted someone to lend him all the capital, and in the event his battery was successful, he’d pay it back and just walk away with one hundred percent of the profits.

  Yeah.

  That wasn’t how it worked.

  My cellphone rang, and I saw that it was my best friend, Lorcan Cavanaugh. I answered as he was one of the very few people that I answered the phone for. Unless I was expecting a very specific phone call, I let most of my calls go to voicemail. I didn’t have time for bullshit, and it was near impossible to get someone off the one once they got me on the line.

  “What’s up?”

  “Where are you?” Before I utter a word, he answered for me. “Oh, never mind. I’m sure you’re at work as always.”

  “Empires don’t build themselves, asshole,” I scoffed my retort. “As you should know.”

  “They also don’t crumble if you take just one fucking night off, assface,” he tossed back. Little did he know that they could. At least, for me, they could.

  “What do you want?”

  “Molly’s having a party and I’m supposed to invite you,” he answered.