Damaged But Not Broken

by Hearts Collective

  I nod against his shoulder, unable to speak. We pull apart and Blake walks quietly from the house.

  EIGHT

  Paige

  Hung Over

  I feel almost hung over the next morning even though I had practically nothing to drink the night before. I have an emotional hangover. Too much Blake and too much pain.

  I lay lifelessly in bed for over an hour, staring at the ceiling and reliving the previous night again and again, dissecting every word at the bar and then analyzing every word in my bedroom.

  I finally get out of bed and force myself to eat some breakfast. The right thing to do would be to go have breakfast with my dad in the main kitchen so we can talk about my last night’s success, but I’m sulking and I don’t feel like talking to anyone, least of all my dad.

  I’m in a dark mood, and my dad is always easiest to blame. If he hadn’t brought his drunk, redneck friends home that night, I wouldn’t even be in this situation. Maybe Blake and I would be married with three kids by now.

  My crappy mood continues all day and my dad seems to sense it and leaves me alone. I swim laps and float in the pool until I am shriveled and wrinkled like a prune. It was right that Blake and I decided we wouldn’t talk anymore, but the more and more I thought about it, the less and less I liked the idea. Shouldn’t his fiancé be able to handle Blake having a female friend? And I would just have to deal with the fact that Blake was engaged.

  I decide that I would rather hopelessly pine for Blake while still having him in my life, than to lose him again. I would just have to deal with my own feelings, as long as Blake could handle his. And obviously he loved Savannah very much. Not that I would ever ask, but he never so much as hinted at the possibility of ending things with her.

  I was a fool to even consider that.

  By the time dinner rolls by I'm feeling better and decide to join my dad in the kitchen for pizza.

  “Looks like you had a relaxing day,” he notes as he picks up a second slice of pizza.

  I shrug. “Just trying to handle everything.”

  “You have to tell me Paige if it’s too much. I’m not going to know.”

  “I know, Daddy. I will.”

  My dad chews thoughtfully. “Has it been hard for you to see Blake again?”

  Damn. Right on the money.

  I decide honesty is best.

  “Yes,” I admit, “It’s great seeing him again, but it’s hard too. It brings up a lot of memories.”

  My dad nods. “And he’s engaged now,” he points out.

  “That too. Not that he was supposed to sit around and wait for me.”

  “That girl of his is the devil incarnate.”

  “I gathered as much.”

  We don’t say any more of Blake and Savannah, and true to his word, my dad doesn’t bring up business again that night or all day Sunday.

  ~~~

  Monday morning rolls around, and I’ve agreed to come to my dad’s office in the afternoon. I haven’t met anyone at his label yet, and I know he wants to go over setting up some more singing gigs for me.

  I dress in a simple floral sundress and throw a bright short-sleeve cardigan over the sleeveless straps. My dad goes to work in jeans, but I’m not sure how the rest of the office dresses.

  His office is bigger than I imagined, and much more sophisticated than the one he had when I was a teenager. It sits on the tenth floor of a high rise, and everything is sleek and polished. Everyone is friendly and greets me warmly, obviously I’m already well known around my dad's the office. I’m touched.

  As I approach his office, a petite and perky redhead intercepts me.

  “Hi! I’m Becky,” she says brightly, putting her hand out.

  I shake it. “Hi, Becky. I’m Paige. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you.”

  “Likewise. Your Daddy is just finishing up a call, but he should be done any minute. Can I get you something?”

  I instantly like Becky, and we seem to be about the same age.

  “Water would be great, thanks.”

  She returns with a water bottle and sits on a plush couch next to me.

  “Your Daddy was so excited to have you back in Nashville,” she says, “It was all he could talk about.”

  I smile at her kind words. “Yes, he definitely was excited.”

  Becky makes no mention of my attack, and doesn’t allude to anything, which is refreshing. If she knows about it, she covers it well. I hate being handled with kid gloves, and I can tell which people try to be overly cautious around me.

  “I heard you were great the other night,” Becky gushes. “I’m so bummed that I couldn’t be there but my boyfriend had a show too.”

  “Oh, is he a singer?”

  “No, an artist actually.” She ducks her head, embarrassed. “I know, not too many people come to Nashville to make art, huh?”

  “It sounds great actually.” And it does. I have zero artistic talent, but I've always enjoyed admiring it in others.

  Becky perks up at my compliment. “Well, I have a few pieces in my office if you'd like to see them on your way out.”

  “Sure, I’d love that.”

  Just then my daddy’s office door opens and he grins widely when he sees me. “Paige!” He hollers.

  Becky jumps up and smiles before hustling off to her office.

  “Come check it out,” my dad says, motioning for me to enter. “I’m glad you met Becky, she’s a hard worker.”

  “Yeah, she seems really nice, too.”

  My dad’s office has more of a country vibe than the sleekness that makes up most of the main office. There are framed records and a few vintage guitars hanging on the wall.

  My dad sits at a round, wooden table in the corner of the office and I follow him. There's a small calendar laid out and a few papers.

  “Becky was making some calls for me this morning, and a lot of bars have already heard about your performance at the Clipper.”

  I smile, unable to conceal my pride.

  “The Clipper would like to make you a regular,” my dad continues, “and I have four other clubs lined up that would like to alternate you every other week or so. For now, it would work out to about two to three shows per week.” He sets the papers down and peers at me. “How does that sound? Not enough? Too little?”

  I’m speechless. There are four clubs, plus the Clipper that want to make me a regular act? Four of those clubs haven’t even heard me sing.

  “Daddy, I’m – I’m shocked.”

  “News about a good thing travels fast,” he beams. “So what do you think?”

  “I think it sounds great. I’m ready. I think I need to start writing some new songs, too.” I’m nervous and giddy at the same time.

  My dad chuckles, and gathers his papers together. “I can have Becky make you a schedule for the next four weeks and I think the next gig would be Thursday night.”

  “Alright. Okay. Wow.” I was having a hard time stringing coherent words together.

  This was happening much faster than I had anticipated, and even with the drama with Blake, I was thrilled. Actually, this news had lifted my spirits. I vowed to throw myself into my music and try to forget about Blake as best I could.

  I would never really be able to forget him completely, but hopefully I could become busy enough that I wouldn’t think about him or Savannah every day.

  My dad and I talked about some of his staff, and then he told me that he wouldn’t be home for dinner because he was going to watch a couple of acts. I left his office and remembered to swing by Becky’s office.

  “Hi,” I say shyly, popping my head in.

  “Hey!” Becky says, happy to see me again.

  “So, I thought I would check out your boyfriend’s art before I left.”

  “Yes! That is so sweet of you.” She points to three beautiful square paintings lining her back wall.

  “No way,” I breathe. They look like pieces of art from a fancy gallery. The colors and brushwork are
amazing, and each painting depicts a different beautiful beach scene.

  “I love the beach.” She explains. “I wanted to bring the beach to work so he painted these for me.”

  “Wow, Becky. They are great. Truly.” And before I know what I’m doing, I open my mouth. “I’d love to go to one of his art shows if I’m free.”

  Becky grins. “Really? That would be so much fun!”

  Oh geez. I’m really losing it. When have I ever tried to make plans with someone? But something about Becky is so open and friendly, that I think I would enjoy her company. And it might be nice to actually make some friends in Nashville.

  We part ways, and I head out to the car that my dad is lending me during my stay. I say lend because I refuse to accept something as lavish as a car from my father, even though he insists the car is mine. Once I start making some real money, I'll be happy to start making payments to my dad.

  I climb into the silver Range Rover and make my way home. I feel a pang of sadness as I pass the street where Blake grew up. I know his parents still live there and I’m almost tempted to drive past the familiar white house with black shutters. I ignore my psycho urges to stalk Blake’s parents and instead drive straight home.

  I notice a shiny red car parked in my father’s driveway, and I feel a surge of fear. I’m certainly not expecting any visitors and it doesn’t seem likely that my father forgot to tell me someone was stopping by. I’m tempted to put the car straight into reverse and back out the driveway, when I see the driver’s side door swing open.

  I pause, my hand hovered just above the gearshift in case I need to make a swift getaway.

  Two bronze and toned legs extend from the car, wearing ridiculously high yellow heels. I gnash my teeth together and wait.

  Sure enough, Savannah emerges, her long honey-streaked hair sleek and shiny down her back, dressed in an impeccable black dress that seems a little too slutty for such a high-brow young woman.

  I have half a mind to put the car into reverse anyway. I’m in no mood for whatever this visit may bring.

  Annoyed as hell, I throw the car back into drive and park abruptly at the top of the driveway.

  I get out of the car and slam the door shut behind me.

  “You’re trespassing,” I say harshly, not worrying about niceties.

  Savannah is wearing big black sunglasses; though I doubt her expression behind them is contrite.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” she says sourly.

  Oh boy. I feel my entire body tense. I am not a confrontational person and this Savannah woman puts me on edge. Besides the fact that she’s engaged to Blake, she's also a complete bitch.

  “I’m not in the mood, Savannah. What can I do for you?”

  “Do you know who my parents are?” She removes her sunglasses, and there's a hardness behind her pretty eyes.

  The question catches me off guard.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Jeffrey and Scarlet Devlin.” She looks at me as if I should instantly recognize the names.

  I stare back, keeping my expression blank and hoping she can tell that I really don’t care.

  “They just about run Nashville,” she explains, “So, Blake has aligned himself with one of the most powerful families in the city.”

  “Again, Savannah, I’m not in the mood for this. Say what you’re going to say and then get the hell off my Daddy’s property.”

  Her nostrils flare, she clearly doesn’t like being told what to do. I’m surprised by my own courage, but I can feel myself near a breaking point.

  “What I’m saying,” she says slowly, as if she’s explaining things to a small child, “is to stay the hell away from my fiancé.”

  I ball my fists and take two deep breaths. I figured as much when I saw Savannah get out of her car, but hearing it directly from her mouth is another story.

  “I don’t know what impression you may have of me,” I say evenly, “but I’m not the kind of girl who goes after another woman’s fiancé. I can’t do anything about the fact that Blake and I have a past, but I would hope that you would trust your fiancé a little more than this.”

  Again, Savannah doesn’t like my response.

  Even though it’s the truth. As much as I still care for Blake, I would never actively pursue him knowing that he was engaged. I felt bad enough that I nearly kissed him the other night. Hell, I felt guilty that I hugged him.

  Savannah sneers and takes a step closer. “You come across all sweet, with your little sundresses,” she waves at my attire, “and you’re pretty blonde hair, but I see through you. You would just love to get Blake back, and I’m warning you now to stay away.”

  “And I’m warning you now to leave me the hell alone. I moved back to Nashville to pursue music and make amends with my Daddy. I don’t care who your parents are. The last thing I want is to deal with bullshit like this!” My face flushes, and my hands start to shake, but I’m on a roll. “I had no idea that Blake was still living here or even making music himself. Now if I were you, I’d get the hell home to your man and worry about your own business.”

  Adrenalin is gushing through my veins at this point, I haven't felt this jacked up in forever, and I'm ready to go at this chick if that's how she wants to play it.

  Savannah stares at me, and for a moment I think she might slap me. But instead she turns on her heel and stalks away. I don’t believe that she can let me have the last word. Sure enough, she turns around just as she is getting into her car.

  “I don’t trust you for a minute,” she hisses, and then slams her door shut and squeals down the driveway.

  My whole body is shaking now, and once her car disappears from sight, and I stumble into the house, nearly blinded with rage. What a stupid fucking bitch, what gives her the right to threaten people and just expect them to back down because she said so?

  I almost call Blake just to tell him what a crazy bitch he has for a fiancé, but I stop myself. That won’t do any good, and the last thing I need is for Blake to confront Savannah about that. I don’t want to give her that satisfaction either – that will just add fuel to her fire.

  Instead, I pour myself a glass of Chardonnay and carry it back to my bedroom. I kick my clothes off, throw on a swimsuit, and down my wine before diving into the pool.

  I lose count of how many laps I do, but when I finally stop, my body is numb and feels rubbery but my head feels surprisingly clear. Even when I vow to stay away from Blake, I still can’t stay completely away from him.

  I float in the pool for a few minutes, and then make my way out, wringing out my wet hair. I promise myself that I’m not going to dwell on Savannah anymore and I head back inside to work on writing my new songs.

  NINE

  Blake

  A Familiar Fuck

  Savannah is home earlier than normal, and telling from the clip of her heels, it hasn’t been a good day. Normally, I would ask how her day has been, but I’ve been on her shit list since Friday night, so instead, I quietly shut the door to my office and keep working on my song.

  A few minutes later, the door swings open, and Savannah is standing there in short shorts and a low-cut top.

  “What are we doing for dinner?” she demands.

  “Hello to you, too,” I can’t help saying.

  She rolls her eyes, places her hands on her hips and waits for my response.

  I shrug. “I can grill. I think we have some shrimp and chicken in the fridge.”

  “I don’t want chicken.”

  “Fine. I can grill shrimp.”

  “Fine.”

  She flounces off again and I shake my head. I always knew Savannah had an attitude, and until recently I found it almost endearing. To be honest, until Paige came back into my life, Savannah’s attitude never really bothered me, but now I can’t help constantly thinking Would Paige act like this?

  And I know the answer - Paige never would.

  I sigh. I need to get Paige off my brain. It haunts me that even after h
er trauma, she still has feelings for me, and only me. It’s sweet and sad at the same time.

  Savannah and I eat dinner in near silence. I’m not sure how long this can go on, but once I’ve cleaned up from dinner, I come into the bedroom to find Savannah stark naked and spread eagle on the bed.

  “What the hell?”

  “Sugar,” she pleads, her eyes dark and pouty. “I need you.”

  I want to turn around and walk out of the room, but I can’t. It’s too enticing to have Savannah naked and ready for me. So, like any man would do, I yank my clothes off and hurry to the bed.

  But I’m ashamed to admit that it’s Paige who I think about the entire time.

  ~~~

  After the marathon sex session with Savannah, everything seems to return back to normal between us. Savannah seems oddly triumphant the rest of the week, and I’m not really sure why.

  Before I know it, Thursday is here and I spend the day with Ryan and our other band mate Ben, getting things together for our gig that night. Savannah only comes to occasional performances, and tonight she’s informed me that she’s staying home and having a Real Housewives marathon.

  Ben, Ryan and I head out to the club and I’m surprised to see Kenny there. We give him a quick wave and head back to our small dressing room. We tune our guitars, and go over a few things, and the sounds of the first act come drifting under the door.

  “It can’t be,” I murmur, and I excuse myself before slipping out of the room. I wind my way backstage and peek out onto the small stage.

  Sure enough, there is Paige, her blonde hair in loose waves down her back, and dressed in a simple white dress with boots. She’s playing the guitar, and singing her heart out about how she wishes she could fix herself.

  I’m broken beyond repair, and it’s been this way for a while

  Won’t ever be whole again, can’t really find a way to smile

  It tears me up just hearing those lyrics because I know how real they are to Paige. Christ, I could have at least had a head’s up from Paige or Kenny. Come to think of it, I’ll bet that Paige doesn’t even know that Rust is following her tonight.