Guarding the Broken: (Nothing Left to Lose, Part 1) (Guarded Hearts)

by Kirsty Moseley

  My mom’s face dropped when I moved away, and the guilt washed through me because all I ever did was hurt them. In trying to make myself less vulnerable by shutting people out, I knew I was hurting them but I just couldn’t help it.

  I groaned and shook my head. “Look, let’s just leave it at that,” I said quietly. One of Ashton’s hands was still placed on my waist, so I focussed on the heat of his skin that was emanating through the fabric of my shirt rather than my mom’s sad expression. “I’ll see you at dinner.” I forced a fake smile before I turned and motioned for Ashton to leave.

  Ashton nodded at my parents respectfully as we walked out of the room. “You okay?” he asked as we rounded the corner.

  “Yeah, I’m just peachy,” I lied, shooting him a ‘shut up’ face.

  He smiled sarcastically. “Of course you are.”

  “Ashton, I don’t want to talk about this, please can we leave it? I don’t want any more lectures,” I muttered.

  “Okay, but if you need to talk to anyone about anything, then you can talk to me, I want you to know that,” he said softly. I looked up at him, seeing that he was watching me intently, his sincerity shining from his eyes. I smiled gratefully, knowing that I wouldn’t put that burden on someone else again. I’d already told him more than I’d told anyone else. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. “This is the part where you say the same to me,” he prompted, nudging my ribs with his elbow.

  I chuckled. “Right, sorry. Well, if you ever need to talk about anything, I’ll be here for you too,” I replied, shaking my head amused. His hand took mine casually as we walked down the hallway. I didn’t actually even think about holding his hand now, it just felt natural, which was weird, but at least it would make it easier for us next week with me being able to be so casual with him.

  He raised one eyebrow. “Well actually there is something I would like to talk to you about.”

  Well, shit, that backfired! I swallowed my groan. “Well then I’m all ears, Pretty Boy,” I said, smiling uncomfortably.

  He cocked his head to the side, regarding me quizzically as we walked. “Well, I was wondering, why is it that you let me touch you and no one else?”

  “You want the honest answer?” I asked just as we reached the front door.

  “Of course,” he said simply. He looked like he was trying to pull the answers straight from my eyes where he was watching me so intently.

  “I honestly don’t know,” I shrugged. That was the truth, I didn’t know what it was, but there was just something about him that made me want to trust him. I would trust this guy with my life yet I had known him for less than three days. It confused me, but it was true.

  His frown grew more pronounced. “I watched you shy away from your own mother because you don’t like to get close to people, yet you let me sleep in your bed and lie all over you. I don’t get it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m taking it as a compliment, even if it’s not meant as one.”

  I sighed and chewed on my lip. “Take it however you want. I’m fed up with trying to explain the way my brain works sometimes.” I smiled sadly, digging in my pocket for my car keys as we approached the garage. When the automatic door rolled up, I led him to my ‘other’ car.

  His eyes widened as his mouth popped open in wonder and awe. I smiled. Yep, typical boy reaction to my car! “Oh, nice!” he purred, touching the hood of my maroon Aston Martin Vanquish appreciatively. As I held up the keys, he flinched, and I chuckled wickedly. “What? Why are you laughing? You think I’m scared to admit that your driving frightens the crap out of me?” he asked, laughing.

  “You’d rather drive, Pretty Boy?” I teased, smirking at him.

  “Definitely.” He held out his hands for the keys, but he looked like he wasn’t actually expecting me to give them to him.

  I sighed dramatically and threw him the keys. “Fine, but you take care of my baby.”

  He looked shocked for a few seconds then smiled sexily. “Don’t worry, Anna, I’ll take care of you and your baby,” he stated, patting the roof of my car gently. I laughed and got in the passenger’s side, watching him as he slid in behind the wheel with an awed expression etched on his face. “If you have this, then why did we take a Jeep out yesterday?” he asked, running his hands around the wheel lovingly.

  I shrugged. “I don’t like to drive this car.”

  “So why are we taking it?” he asked, frowning and looking confused.

  “I thought you’d like to drive it. You look like a pretty car type of pretty boy,” I replied, smirking and winking at him. He looked at me strangely, just like he did when I gave him the photo frame last night. “What is that look?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  “What look?” he questioned, still doing it.

  “That look on your face right now. What are you thinking? You had that same face last night when I gave you that photo frame,” I said, biting my lip wishing I hadn’t asked.

  He turned, looking out of the windshield as he started the car. “I was just thinking that you’re extremely thoughtful and that no one has ever really thought of me like that, that’s all. I’m not used to getting gifts or having people think of me. It’s weird; I don’t quite know how to deal with it.”

  I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. “Because you grew up in foster homes?”

  He nodded stiffly. “Yeah, I never really had a family or anything from the age of ten, so I never got presents and stuff. I just got used to it, I guess,” he explained, pulling out of the driveway.

  “When’s your birthday?” I asked curiously, after a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence.

  “November fifteenth.”

  “How old are you?” I asked, trying to commit the date to memory so I could get him a present.

  “I’m twenty-one,” he answered, smiling. He was obviously enjoying driving my car.

  “You can put your foot down, I don’t mind a bit of speed,” I suggested, looking at the speedometer to see that he was just one under the speed limit.

  “Yeah? And what if I get you killed?” he teased, grinning at me.

  I shrugged and spoke before I could stop myself. “Then you’d be doing me a favour.” He slammed on the breaks and pulled the car to a stop, looking at me shocked and actually a little horrified. “What?” I asked, looking around for some animal or something that we hit.

  “Please don’t ever think that again, Anna. That’s not nice to hear,” he said sadly. “You actually want to die?” he inquired, his face serious.

  “Everyday,” I confirmed, not looking away from his gaze.

  He gulped. “Why?”

  “Why not? What have I got to live for? A whole life on my own? Waking up every day with the knowledge that I got one of the nicest people in the world killed? Knowing that I’ll never have that again, never feel loved, never feel whole, or clean, or pure? Why would I want to live?” I asked seriously.

  He looked so sad, his eyes glazed over. “You don’t have to be on your own. You might meet someone, fall in love again. As for feeling clean or pure, that may not ever change if you don’t let it. That’s a state of mind; you need to let it go because there’s nothing else you can do about it. And you didn’t get Jack killed, he was murdered by a sick asshole. It wasn’t your fault,” he said softly, reaching for my hand and squeezing gently.

  I sighed deeply. “Ashton, I’ve heard all of that in every single one of my therapy sessions, and I’ll tell you the same thing that I tell them. I don’t care what anyone else says, I know it was my fault, so let’s just drop it and change the subject,” I suggested, tugging my hand from his and turning on the radio.

  He sighed and gripped the wheel tightly. “Anna, you shouldn’t-”

  “You gonna drive, or shall we just go back to the house?” I interjected, putting my feet up on the dashboard.

  “Anna, it wasn’t your fault,” he whispered, looking at me pleadingly.

  “I know it wasn’t,” I lied easily. This was the othe
r tactic I used on my therapist occasionally.

  “You don’t believe that,” he stated, gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my face so I had to look at him.

  Frustration built up inside me. I didn’t want to be having this conversation, not with him, not with anyone. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Ashton! You don’t want the truth, you don’t want the lie! What the hell do you want me to say? What will make you drive us to the fucking mall?” I ranted, throwing my hands up dramatically.

  He looked at me a little shocked before he laughed at my outburst. I felt the smile twitch the corner of my mouth and then I laughed too before he composed himself. “Right then, Miss Spencer, you want to see good driving?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at me. I nodded, a little unsure if that was the right answer, and his eyes sparkled with excitement as he gunned the engine loudly. He pulled away with the tyres squealing. We sped down the winding road so fast that everything was just a blur. He was a kick-ass driver and my heart was beating so fast, I thought I would die of a heart attack. As we approached the populated area he slowed right down to normal, legal speed, glancing over at me and grinning his ass off.

  “Enjoy yourself?” I asked, chuckling and still trying to calm my racing heart.

  “Shit yeah, this car is awesome!” he gushed, rubbing the dashboard lovingly.

  “Well, I’ll tell you what, if you can last the full eight months, you can have it,” I bargained, shrugging. He laughed and shook his head, obviously thinking I was kidding around.

  Chapter Eight

  The shopping was a pleasant change. It was good to get out of the house for a little while. The only trouble was that I felt like I was on my own for most of the time. Ashton was constantly distracted and checking everything out discreetly, so it was almost as if I was talking to myself half the time.

  “Maybe you should have told Dean where we were going and then you could have actually relaxed and paid attention to what we’re talking about,” I snapped as we sat in the café, refuelling before we planned to shop some more. I glared at him as he watched a group of teenagers walk past near me, rather than answering the question I’d just directed at him.

  “I told him, he’s back there,” he replied, motioning over his shoulder with his head.

  A quick glance in that direction and I spotted Dean in plain clothes, lingering three stores away. I sighed and frowned, hating being followed around.

  Just as I was finishing up my coffee, two familiar figures caught my eye through the window.

  Oh God, it can’t be! Jack!

  My eyes widened at the sight of his blond, unruly hair and straight nose as he sauntered across the mall in his loose fit jeans and GAP T-shirt. I jerked in my seat, confused. My heart stopped and then took off in a sprint.

  But as one side of his mouth pulled up into a smile, my happiness and hope that maybe the last three years had been a dream faded, and I came back to reality with a huge, painful bump. My heart broke with loss all over again as I realised that it wasn’t my Jack after all, it was his younger brother, Michael.

  Accompanying Michael was his mother, Pam… and now that they’d seen me, it appeared that they were heading straight for me. Pam smiled warmly, but my eyes just flicked back to Michael again. My whole body seemed to go cold. I hadn’t seen him for over a year, and I had forgotten how much he looked like his brother. He wasn’t built the same as Jack and was maybe an inch taller, but facially they could have been twins. And he was the age now that Jack had been when he’d died.

  My hands started to shake uncontrollably, making my cup rattle against the little plate that it sat on. A little whimper left my lips because usually I had time to prepare for seeing them, usually it was on my terms and I had some warning. I’d never just run into them like this and I wasn’t sure I could deal with it.

  Ashton stood quickly, gripping my upper arm and hoisting me out of my seat, pushing me against the wall that was behind me. His body tensed as he span on the spot, pressing his back against my chest and shielding me with his body, like he had that first night he came into my room when I was screaming.

  “What is it?” he asked fiercely, reaching into his jacket pocket, probably holding his gun or his knife.

  I whimpered and pressed my face into his shoulder, closing my eyes. I couldn’t speak. I could barely even breathe properly. Grief was overwhelming me, seeming to all come back at once so that I was drowning in it. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and shout and wail, but nothing was coming out. There was no escape for my sadness as it just built inside me, crushing me, filling me up.

  I was dimly aware of Ashton’s cell phone ringing and him answering it in short, terse sentences. When he turned back to me and cupped my face in his hands, I looked up into his green eyes and felt my chin tremble. I couldn’t cope with it. The grief was fresh and raw again, like it had only just happened, like I’d only just lost Jack and watched him die.

  “Breathe,” Ashton whispered. “Anna, just breathe for me. Everything is going to be fine. I know you’re panicking, but listen to my voice. Nothing will hurt you.” My breathing continued to come out in small pants as I dug my fingers into his sides, completely lost in grief and guilt. “Can you hear your heart beating?” he asked as he brushed my hair over my shoulder. “If you can hear your heart, then count the beats and just try to breathe so you can calm down. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

  My eyes flicked to Pam and Michael, who were standing there watching me with wide, horrified eyes. Pam was crying, covering her mouth with her hand. Michael frowned and shook his head, turning to his mother and saying something I couldn’t hear.

  I looked back to Ashton, swallowing my sadness. What I hated the most was the fact that I was upsetting Pam by being upset. She’d been through enough already – losing her son because of me. I needed to get a grip of myself. Doing as Ashton said, I tried to focus on my heartbeats that were drumming in my ears as he smiled and nodded in encouragement. Slowly, my breathing returned to normal as I fought my way through the emotional storm that was trying to drown me.

  “I’ll ask them to leave,” he suggested, pulling away from me when my breathing was stable and I could no longer hear my heart hammering in my ears.

  I gulped and shook my head. “No, don’t,” I croaked, standing up straighter.

  His eyebrows knitted together as he nodded and pulled back, setting his hand on the small of my back. I forced a smile as I turned to face the mother of the boy that I got killed, and his brother, who had inherited every single feature that I loved about my boyfriend.

  “Hi,” I greeted awkwardly.

  Pam sniffed and smiled back, stepping closer to me. “Oh, Anna. I’m sorry we upset you,” she said kindly, wiping her own tears away. “How are you? We’ve missed you.”

  I nodded. “I’ve missed you guys too.” That wasn’t the truth though. I didn’t allow myself to think about them much because it brought back too many memories. It was easier for me to blank them out altogether and not ever let myself think about them or how welcome they always made me feel.

  “Can I get a hug?” she asked hopefully.

  I gritted my teeth so tightly that it made my jaw ache, but nodded in agreement, letting her envelop me in a hug that was so familiar that it was like I was ten years old again and I’d just gone to her with a scraped knee.

  When she broke the embrace, Michael stepped forward, holding his arms open for a hug too. A small whimper escaped my lips as I smiled through my heartbreak. When his arms wrapped around me, I closed my eyes and hugged him just that bit too tight and for that bit too long. Part of me didn’t ever want to let go.

  He stepped back, running a hand through his hair just like Jack used to do. “Not seen you in ages. You should come around more,” he stated.

  Tears welled in my eyes because even his voice was similar to his brother’s. He looked so much like Jack that I could barely stand to look at him, yet at the same time, I couldn’t look away. My grief was t
hreatening to crush me. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could look at him without either throwing myself at him and begging him to hold me, or sobbing until I couldn’t breathe.

  Pam set her hand on my arm. “Anna, did you get my text? We’d love to have you over for dinner or something before you go back to school. We miss you at the house,” she cooed, squeezing my arm gently.

  I swallowed a couple of times, scrambling to come up with an answer to that. “Um… I’m not sure if I’m going to get time. We’re leaving in a couple of days, and there’s a lot to do before college.” I turned and motioned to Ashton. “This is Ashton. Ashton, this is Pamela and Michael Roberts,” I introduced weakly, praying that no one noticed that my hands were shaking.

  Ashton shook hands with them both and exchanged pleasantries when suddenly his cell phone rang again in his pocket. “Sorry. Excuse me,” he apologised, turning to answer it. He turned back a few seconds later. “I’m really sorry, Anna, but we have to get going. There are some things I need to pick up on our way back to the house,” he instructed.

  I’d never been more grateful for a phone call in my life. I couldn’t hold myself together much longer. I was struggling to keep the panic and horror from seeping into my voice as I talked to them. Soon I would break down, and I didn’t want Pam to have to witness it.

  After exchanging goodbyes and promising that I’d try to make time to visit them before going to school the following week, I let Ashton lead me along and out of the emergency exit of the mall.

  I gulped in the fresh air greedily as the tears finally made their appearance. Ashton’s face was a mask of worry and sympathy as he gripped my hand and tugged me across the parking lot towards where we’d parked.

  By the time we were almost at the car, I couldn’t walk any further and my legs gave out on me. I slumped down to the floor, sobbing against the asphalt. Ashton’s arms slipped under me, lifting me and carrying me the rest of the way. He climbed in the car, still holding me against his chest as he set me in his lap.