Shattered Love (Blinded Love Series Book 1)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  I started to slip his shirt off his shoulders before a strange sound came from him, and he leaped out of the truck, pulling his shirt closed.

  “We can’t do this,” he mumbled, running his hands through his hair.

  “Why?” I sat up. Hurt flooded in, coloring my tone. “You’ve been wanting to have sex forever. I was never ready. Now I am.”

  “That’s why... not here. Not like this,” he replied.

  “I don’t understand.” Embarrassment flooded through me. “You don’t want to have sex with me?”

  “It’s not I don’t want to have sex with you.” His gaze found mine. “Believe me. Right now it’s all I want to do.”

  “Then?” I held up my arms. I couldn’t believe I was suddenly begging for it and he was saying no. “What’s the problem?”

  “For one, I don’t have protection. Not going to do that to either of us. You want to be a pregnant teen mom? I don’t think so.” His words grounded me. Colton was being the responsible one. “And I’m not going to have it in the back of this car.”

  Being in the SUV didn’t bother me. I think movies had guys believing most girls wanted a bed-of-roses fairy tale. My desire was dependent on the guy and my emotions, not the place.

  He could have told me any wonderful, selfless reasons, but it didn’t matter. The hurt clouded in my chest like a storm crackling across my heart. All I wanted was go home and lick my wounds. I straightened my dress and scooted out of the back.

  “Jaymerson?” he called to me as I rounded the car, heading for the passenger side.

  “I want to go home.”

  Re-buttoning his shirt, he followed me around the side. “I’m doing this for you. Seriously, you will thank me for it.”

  “No, I get it. You are being respectful and responsible.” I looked away, tears flooding beneath my lids. “But I just want to go home now.”

  He stood in front of me. I kept my gaze on the ground. I loved he was actually being a gentleman, but I didn’t want the gentleman, not when he’d kissed me like that. My discomfort clouded everything, and all I could see was rejection.

  “Okay.” He nodded.

  The ride home was tense and awkward, but I leaned over to give him a kiss when he pulled into my drive. It was quick, but then he grabbed the back of my head, pressing me close. His mouth told me he still wanted me. Desired me. Loved me.

  I let him kiss away my wounds. My chagrin melted, leaking out of the SUV with every nip of his mouth. It was like he demanded it, forbidding me to experience anything but desire.

  “I love you,” I mumbled against his lips, the words spurting out before I even realized it.

  Colton froze, jerking back.

  Oh god. What did I do? Humiliation came flooding back in the car, dropping down on me, painting me a deep shade of maroon.

  His finger stayed clipped to my jawline as he stared down at me intently. Not for the first time tonight, I could not read his mood.

  “I-I did-didn’t mean…I meant I—” His mouth crashed down on mine, stopping the horrible fumble of my words.

  He pressed me back into the seat, his lips taking me prisoner again. His hand ran up my leg, leaving shivers in his wake. His tongue dipped over my mouth and curled around mine. Air seized in my lungs; my blood boiled and responded to him. He broke the kiss, both of us grappling for needed oxygen.

  “I love you too,” he said against my mouth, his tone odd, like it was the deepest confession he’d ever made. “Happy anniversary.”

  “Happy anniversary,” I replied. I gave him another soft kiss before pulling away. I slipped out of the car and turned toward the house, then waved and went inside.

  Besides the sex-gone-wrong part, it had been the night I’d always wanted. No matter how much he pressured me with words, when it came down to it, he didn’t want me to do anything I wasn’t truly ready for.

  Colton could drive me nuts, but he was deeper than people thought. He actually saw me.

  Tonight something changed for me.

  I smiled to myself. I knew I had officially fallen completely in love with Colton Harris.

  Chapter Five

  When I woke, the room was dim and the hospital still and quiet. My father slept in a chair in the corner, his chin against his chest. He seemed to have aged since I last saw him. He looked pale and exhausted even while he dozed. He was unshaven, his light brown hair messy. I knew underneath his closed lids were the same steel-blue eyes as I had. I took after my mom in height and body frame, five-four and petite boned, but most everything else was like my dad.

  Noah Holloway was extremely handsome, only thirty-eight, young for having a seventeen-year-old daughter. My mom was a year younger than Dad. My parents had just met in college, my mom still a freshman, when I came along. I don’t think they ever wished they didn’t have me, but I knew if they could do it over, they would have waited. A lot changed because of me. Dreams, hopes…all put on the back burner to support the sudden family. It was the reason why my sister arrived long after me. She came when they really wanted to start a family.

  We moved here so my father could take an assistant athletic trainer job at the university forty-five minutes away. It paid minimally, but he hoped the prestige of the college football team would lead to bigger and better things. Mom preferred raising us in the small town. She worked as a secretary in a law office and hated every minute of it. But she did it while she took online classes at night toward her marketing degree.

  Maybe it was why I tried so hard to please them. I carried a lot of guilt for changing their lives. I wouldn’t say ruining, but they gave up a lot. I wanted to be as little burden on them as possible.

  Now look.

  My back ached, and I pulled myself up to shift positions. Dad jumped up, already heading for me.

  “JayJay?” He reached my side. “Are you all right?”

  I pried my lips apart. “Fine, Dad.” I flinched, a stab of pain shooting up my spine.

  He grabbed a glass of water, held it to my mouth. I clutched the side and guzzled down the liquid.

  “You scared us, kid,” he said as he set the cup down. He blinked back tears, gently stroking the hair off my forehead.

  “How long was I out?” For some reason it felt easier to talk to my dad. He would tell me straight.

  He drew in a breath. “You were in a coma for almost a month.”

  Panic sprouted in my chest, moving it up and down in frequent bursts. “A month?”

  He nodded, pain etched deep in his face.

  A month? My brain couldn’t even wrap around the concept. What my parents had gone through must have been horrendous. The next question waited on my tongue, but the fear and the agony that would follow was unfathomable. By simply acknowledging the question, the pain seeped in.

  “Colton… Is Colton really dead?” My bottom lip started to quiver.

  Dad looked away, two fingers rubbing across his chin. He did this when he was worried or agitated.

  “Dad?”

  “Maybe we should wait for morning when the doctor and your mother will be here.”

  “No. Tell me, now.” I already knew what he was going to say, but I needed to hear the words. “Please.”

  His jaw clenched, then he took a deep breath. “Colton is dead, sweetheart. I am so sorry.”

  I shook my head. The truth only brushed up against me. I heard and understood, but it did not absorb into my heart.

  “They tried to save him.”

  My lids blinked rapidly with the beats of my speeding heart.

  No-no-no-no.

  “And Hunter?”

  “He was in critical condition, but the doctors say he is doing better. They are downgrading him. He even woke briefly last night.”

  Hunter was barely alive, Colton was dead... and I… I was too far in now. “Why can’t I move? What’s wrong with my legs?”

  Dad’s hand went to his mouth again, rubbing ferociously.

  “Just tell me.” Everything hurt from the wa
ist up. Nothing below. But words were powerful, truth ignored until the words were said. Out loud.

  “They are paralyzed.”

  I sucked in air with a gulp, my head spinning.

  “The doctors don’t know if it’s temporary or permanent because of the trauma.” He shook his head. “They will better explain it to you. Something about swelling of your spine.”

  The tsunami of knowledge about Colton, Hunter, and me was crushing. I thought I wanted to know, but now the ground I had securely walked on crumbled under my feet. My lungs couldn’t catch up, whirling around along with my thoughts. Churning, spiraling, and twisting.

  “Oh god. I knew I shouldn’t have told you.” My father leaped over to my bed and pushed the nurse’s button.

  I scarcely noticed when the sound of sneakers squeaking across the smooth floor announced Shelly had rushed in.

  “What’s happened?” She grabbed for my wrist.

  “I told her.” My dad’s voice was at panic level, and he began to pace. “I know I shouldn’t have.”

  Shelly leaned over and clicked a button hanging from one of the drips. Immediately warmth swelled over me, like I’d stepped into a bathtub. My muscles relaxed, I sank back, and my breathing deepened.

  I did not want to think of the horrific, devastating crash. Actually, I didn’t want to think at all. My gaze tracked my dad’s jolting movements.

  “You need to calm down, Mr. Holloway, or I’ll give you a morphine drip too.” The nurse sassed my father.

  “Actually, that would be great.” He stopped, placing his palms on my bed and leaned forward.

  She snorted.

  “And please, Shelly, I’ve told you to call me Noah. We’ve been through too much together.”

  She nodded, looking down at me. “Yes, we have. But it’s going to get better now.”

  Deep under the influence of drugs, my heart heard her words and twisted with pain. Even part of my conscious brain was saying the opposite—it wouldn’t get any better.

  Maybe for them, but for me it was only going to get worse.

  Chapter Six

  “Jaymerson, do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  My gaze drifted over the room, balloons and cards decorated the space with cheerful colors and soft sentiments. They meant little to me. I understood people didn’t know what else to do or how to communicate their sympathy and good will. The fact was there was nothing they could do or say.

  “JayJay? Are you listening to the doctor?” Mom grasped my arm, pulling my focus to her.

  I turned my head back to Dr. Williams, shifting uncomfortably. The morphine was wearing off, and sharp aches were shooting through my nerves. I was nauseated, and engulfing weariness yanked on me from all sides.

  It had only been a few days since my father told me the truth. From then on, they lowered the dosage of drugs and kept me awake for longer periods of time. Morphine had numbed my emotions and my physical pain enough so I could handle being conscious. Now, sober consciousness left space for Colton to pop into my brain. The ache was so cruel and torturous I couldn’t breathe.

  Drug-induced sleep was my only relief, but then the moment I opened my eyes, his face would appear, and the agony returned to me all over again. My thoughts bounced between the loss of him and my legs. The nurses worked with me every day to move them, but nothing happened.

  Today was the first time I felt a tingling in my right foot. My mom ran and got the doctor who poked at it and took x-rays. “The swelling in your spine is going down. This is a good sign. There is no physical barrier to you walking again,” the doctor continued.

  “Great news, Doctor.” My dad spoke from the other side of me. Both Mom and Dad were here today as my sister was in preschool till one o’clock.

  It was great news. But I seemed numb to good, like I was being held underwater by the bad.

  “I think you should start getting sensation in your legs soon.”

  I stared at my hands in my lap. They had removed the air and food tubes. They left the one that kept me hydrated and, for a couple more days, the morphine drip. But I could only click once. I tried.

  “I appreciate you have been through a lot…more than any of us can comprehend.” Dr. Williams cleared her throat. “But I need you to concentrate on getting yourself healthy. The mind is a powerful thing. It can block you from making progress. Physically or emotionally.”

  “You mean don’t think about my dead boyfriend, right?” The words spilled from my mouth before I realized it.

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Jaymerson! That was not what she was saying.” Mom frowned, more embarrassed I had talked back to the doctor.

  It was exactly what they wanted. For me to forget I would never see him again, to feel his lips, to hear his laugh. Dad told me they held his funeral a few weeks after the accident, while I was still in a coma, and he was buried in the Harris’s family plot. Colton had once told me he hated his family already had a burial plot. It freaked him out. He also loathed the thought of being entombed unground. Trapped. He would despise being interred there. Another thing I should forget. Rage I never experienced before exploded in my chest. Impaling pieces on spikes, tearing until all I saw was red, terrifying me. I bit down on my lip trying to swallow back the emotion.

  “Do you understand, Jaymerson?” The doctor gripped her clipboard, her head tilted to the side.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  She acknowledged my answer and glanced at my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Holloway, I’d like to speak to you about finding Jaymerson someone to talk with.” She motioned for them to follow her into the hallway.

  “We’ll be right back, kiddo.” Dad swiped his hand over my head and kissed the top of it. Mom hugged me, making me flinch in pain. Then they both followed the doctor.

  I sat in the room with pink and yellow balloons and flowers, appearing as the sweet girl I had always been. Inside I screamed and wailed with agony and fury, wanting to tear every pretty card in half, crash the vases against the wall, and stomp on every balloon.

  Inside I was a mess.

  And filling with darkness.

  “Come on, Jayme. A couple more steps.” The nurse, Shelly, encouraged me to go farther. During the week sensation had returned to my legs. Along with the pain.

  Nurses had started to work with me every day, building muscle and flexibility. Agony flooded my senses, and I had thrown up several times when it got to be too much. The muscles down my back sent daggers of torture, sizzling every nerve like it was twisting in a fire. It burned. It ached. It spasmed. By the end of the second week, I was back on my feet. Barely. It was still faster than the doctor expected.

  My knuckles were white as they gripped the back of the wheelchair. The deal was I had to walk to the water fountain down the hall, get a drink, then the nurse would wheel me back. The exhaustion, pain, and work it took for me to walk the corridor was depressing. Not too long ago I could have done backflips down and not even have been out of breath.

  But I was walking. And alive.

  “A few more.”

  “Shelly, you said a few more a few steps ago,” I growled through my clenched teeth. Sweat trickled down the side of my face. Both my legs and arms shook with effort.

  “And I will keep saying it till you get to the water fountain.”

  I glared at her.

  She smiled, enjoying tormenting me. I liked Shelly. She was sassy and honest. She didn’t sugarcoat things, which was refreshing, and at the same time she was comforting without being smothering. My parents had teetered over into suffocating with their constant nearness, excessive enthusiasm, and overly inspirational cheers for me to get better.

  Sometimes my dad turned into a coach, priming me for a big game, while Mom tried hard to pretend she was all right, overdoing the positive thinking. She wanted to paint me a picture of perfection, like a true marketer.

  I completely understood their reasoning but simply wanted everyone to be honest, t
o say whatever they truly felt. My family teased and loved each other, but so much was left unsaid. It had never bothered me before. Maybe I never noticed how much we hid previously.

  “I’ll bet you are thirsty,” Shelly taunted, walking backward in front of the wheelchair. Her brightly colored scrubs hurt my eyes. “Cool, refreshing water would feel great down your parched throat.”

  “Actually, I would love the water fountain to be full of morphine,” I grumbled.

  She frowned. “You know you are being weaned off. Don’t want you to become an addict on top of everything.”

  “You’re making me want to be an addict.”

  “Oh, someone’s feisty today.” Her eyebrow curved up. When she said that, I realized it wasn’t simply today. This was how I felt and thought most of the time now.

  I rolled the wheelchair a couple more feet with zombie steps. I might not have been dead, but I didn’t feel alive either.

  “Okay, this time it actually is only a few more.” She tapped on the fountain.

  My teeth sawed together, the back of my neck was soaked. My robe seemed more like a heavy wool jacket than a cotton one against my skin.

  “Your reward, Ms. Holloway.” She motioned to the fountain with a game show host’s flair.

  “Wow, all for me?” I shuffled up to the spout and gulped down the cool water.

  As I enjoyed the refreshing liquid, I heard a crash behind me and turned to look over my shoulder.

  “Fuck you!” A deep voice boomed from the room, plowing down the hallway past me. “You can take your wheelchair and shove it up your ass.”

  Ice coated my esophagus. I straightened up, staring through the open doorway. My eyes locked on him, sitting on the edge of his hospital bed.

  His face. His voice. Grief covered my throat and spun me like a whirlwind.

  “Whoa!” Shelly grabbed me, my knees buckling. The movement drew the attention of the shouter. His head jerked up and familiar blue eyes caught mine. Shelly placed the wheel chair near me, but my gaze never left his.