Fractured Paths (Fractured Love Series Book 1)

by Heather Anne

  "Cam and the boys are playing at Biggies tonight, so I figured we would meet them there. What time do you get out of your thing?" she asks.

  "It gets out around 7:30, sometimes 8, depending on how many people show," I advised.

  "I will be at your place at 8:30," she tells me as she grabs her bag from behind the counter.

  "I’ll have the wine waiting," I laugh.

  "Make it tequila. It's been one of those weeks." She sighs dramatically which makes me giggle.

  Looks like we’re getting toasted tonight.

  My day goes by pretty quickly; it’s nearing 6 and I am in need of a jolt. As I’m preparing a quad espresso over ice for myself, the bell on the door of the shop dings. I let the espresso finish brewing, pour it over the ice and turn around.

  "Hi, how can I help you?" My voice fades as I find myself looking at the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. Hazel eyes that look almost like a forest green with a dark gray t-shirt that clings to his broad chest perfectly. Dark hair that looks like he spent hours running his fingers through it. Sleeves of colorful tattoos adorn his arms and a hint of stubble is visible on his strong jaw.

  Holy shit, this guy looks like he walked right off of the pages of a romance novel.

  He smirks at me. "Who are you?” he asks, almost sounding annoyed.

  “Skylar. A friend of Lauren's. You need me to let her know you came by?" I’m confused as to why he is giving me a once over along with somewhat of an arrogant attitude.

  "Nah. I’m sure I’ll run into her at some point," he says.

  I notice his eyes studying me and I can't help but fidget. I pull down the white t-shirt I’m wearing and brush the stray hairs that are falling out of the knot on the top of my head out of my face. He can see his effect on me and it's driving me crazy.

  "Are you going to take my order or are you just going to stare at me for the rest of the night?" He smirks.

  Asshole. This guy is an asshole.

  I give him the fakest smile I can muster. "What can I get you?"

  "Large coffee, three pumps of simple syrup and room for milk."

  "Coming right up.”

  I busy myself making his coffee and the hair at the back of my neck starts to stand up. I can feel him looking at me, examining me, and I wonder what it would be like if his hands were doing the probing and not his eyes. I shake my head at the thought I haven't been affected like this by a member of the opposite sex in... well, ever. I hand him his coffee.

  “Anything else?"

  He eyes me up and down and leans over the counter, his face mere inches from mine.

  "What I want isn't the on the menu. Besides, it may be illegal for you to sell it," he smiles, leans back, drops a five-dollar bill on the counter and walks to the door.

  My mouth is hanging open in complete shock at the audacity of this beautiful, yet arrogant son of a bitch.

  "Oh and Skylar?" I can’t help but to look up into those mesmerizing eyes.

  "I'm sure I’ll see you around," he says in a seductive voice and leaves the shop.

  What the fuck was that? Who was that? God, are all good looking guys cocky mother fuckers? I wouldn't know, as my main experience with men was with Tim. At the thought of him, the familiar bubble of guilt works its way into my stomach and I shake my head. I have been doing very well. Learning to grieve and to cope with everything, but guilt is the red-headed step child that just won't leave no matter how much you try to kick them out.

  I’m grateful I have group tonight. Trevor and the people who attend have made me feel comfortable by signing confidentiality and non-disclosure agreements. I hate that it had to be like that, but taking care of myself and keeping my life as anonymous as possible is my top priority; that is the one thing I won't let myself feel guilty about.

  I hear the bell ding and look up to see Amy, her long blonde hair in a high pony tail swinging behind her.

  "Sorry I’m late. Grayson Davis is back in town and I had to say hello if you know what I mean," she wags her eyes brows at me.

  "I have no idea who that is. New here, remember?" I joke.

  "Oh, he was just here getting coffee, or at least he had one of our to-go cups," she says and I look her with a blank stare. "Ridiculously good looking, arms covered in tattoos?" She says it more like a questions.

  "Oh, yeah. He was here, I just didn't catch his name," I admit.

  "He's so hot," she says in a faraway voice.

  I shrug. "Isn't he a little old for you?"

  "Yeah," she laughs. "He's so hot, though, and fun to flirt with, but he's friends with my brother. You know Jeffers would castrate him and it would be a shame if a man that good looking couldn't procreate. Every time I talk to him, I squirm; I heard that man has a pretty talented tongue," she giggles and I throw my hands up.

  "Ok, thanks, but I don't need to know those things! I’m going to be late. Have a good night." I grab my coffee and my bag from under the counter and head out the door.

  It’s a nice night and I’m comfortable in my yoga pants, t-shirt, and flip flops. It’s a two-block walk and the sun looks as if it is just getting ready to set. With the summer months coming, I love that the days are starting to seem longer.

  The brick community center houses a youth center as well as a walk in medical clinic and counseling center. As I walk to the door, I reach into my bag to put my phone on silent. I notice it’s already a few minutes after group started and I hustle through the door and down the linoleum steps to the community room on the bottom floor. Of course, when I open the door, it swings out of my grip and makes a loud banging noise, drawing attention to me.

  "Skylar! Nice of you to join us!" Trevor says and I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks.

  "Sorry," I say sheepishly. I feel a prick to my skin and look to my right to see familiar hazel eyes staring right at me. Son of a bitch.

  Chapter Five

  I walk into the counseling center ten minutes later than I planned, thanks to being bombarded by Amy outside. Amy, Jeffers younger sister, is a flirt, but there is no way I would touch that with a ten-foot pole. She doesn’t do it for me.

  Skylar though. Damn, she is fine. When I walked into Beans and saw this tiny thing standing behind the counter, monkeying the with espresso machine, I couldn't help but admire how the yoga pants she wore hugged her perfect ass. When she turned around, I was almost physically taken aback by her.

  Her strawberry hair was knotted at the top of her head, bringing out her high cheekbones. She was short – maybe five-foot-three – but what got me were her eyes. They were the color of steel and, as I agitated her, they swirled like a storm. She seemed guarded but kind. She’s someone I could easily get lost in. I could get lost in her for hours to the point where I forgot everything. Looks like I'll be drinking a lot of coffee until I can get her in that back room.

  "Here," Trevor handed me a pile of papers.

  The counseling center was free so they didn't need my insurance information. "What's all this?"

  "Medical history, HIPAA form, a confidentiality agreement and non-disclosure agreement as well," he hands me a pen.

  "Why do I need to sign a non-disclosure for a counseling group?" I question as I look over the forms.

  "High profile client. Been in the media and requested these be filled out as she needs to protect herself and her story. If you don't feel comfortable signing these, I can find you a different group to attend, but know she signed them as well. That means she can't go talking about your shit either.”

  "I'll sign. Who the fuck am I going to say anything to anyway? I’m only here because of my stupid family," I let my thought slip out, cringing at the lecture I know is coming.

  "Listen, Grayson. You don't want to be here, I get it. If you just want to go through the motions, that's fine, but there are people here that want the help. They’re dealing with real issues and are trying to find a way to actually live without being weighed down by grief and guilt. All I ask is that you respect that." He pauses
. "I’m not even going to ask you how rehab was. I already know the answer," he gives me a pointed stare.

  "I'm not high," I start to defend but stop myself from going forward when Trevor gives me a look that tells me he believes me and I’m relieved.

  "But you weren't clean the entire time in rehab."

  It isn't a question. I know he knows and he knows that I know. We both know I’m fucked. I open my mouth to respond but he cuts me off.

  "I’m not going to say anything to your brothers this time, but Gray, you need to take a long hard look at not only what you’re doing to yourself, but how your actions are affecting those around you."

  I have nothing to say. I know he’s right. As shitty as it is, I really didn't give a fuck about anything. I love my siblings, I would die for each and every one of them, but the problem is I would have to be living in order to die. I haven't been living, not for a long time, and I have no idea how to start.

  Lying, manipulating, numbing, existing are all things I know how to do, but living life on life's terms and having to actually feel everything that goes along with that? No thanks. Maybe if I had taken rehab seriously, I would have gotten the tools I need to do what he and my family suggest. The reality of it is, I don’t want to. I’m not willing to open myself up to the pain that comes along with feeling.

  I’ve already started to have dreams where I wake up in a deep sweat with tears running down my face, re-living that night in my sleep. I know that it’s only a matter of time before those feelings seep into my days, too, and I can’t have it. I can function on pills or some weed, but pain is crippling. Guilt consumes every bit of me. Dealing with all of that head-on is something I don't think I can survive.

  I finish filling out the forms and follow Trevor into the big community room, looking around. There are several faces I know from being around town, one in particular I don't want to see, but only because the temptation is too great. I wasn't lying to Landon when I said I would try, yet I wasn't completely honest with him either.

  "Hey, handsome. What are you doing here?" Her sugary voice makes me inwardly cringe.

  "Kristy.” I can’t hide the agitation in my voice. “It's grief counseling. What do you think I’m doing here?"

  "Oh, yeah. Have you finally decided to deal with -" she starts, acting like she knows me. She doesn’t know me. Sure, she knows what my dick tastes like, but that is as much as she knows about me.

  "Don't." I give her a hard stare and she gives me a fake sweet smile, rubbing her fake ass tits against my arm. I clench my teeth and grip my coffee even tighter.

  "Sorry hun," she gets up on her tip toes and whispers in my ear. "I have something that will help take that edge off. I can see how tense you are. Meet me out back after and I'll take care of you." She places a kiss on my cheek and sits down in an empty chair.

  Getting some pills and getting my dick sucked sounds pretty appealing at the moment. Especially the pills. Not so much the blow job - though getting off would definitely relax me a little and maybe even get a certain woman with stormy eyes out of my head.

  The chairs are set up in a circle so I cross the room to get as far away from Kristy as possible. I don't need her distraction; I want to respect the group like Trevor has requested. I’m not that much of an asshole. If there is anyone who knows about grief, it’s definitely me. How to properly handle grief, well that is a whole different story.

  I grab a seat not too far from the door and I sit so there is one chair between me and this young kid who looks kind of out of place. I give him a nod, settle myself in and pull my phone out. There’s still a few minutes before group so I start looking through my phone and grimace as I see almost half my contacts have been deleted. Fucking Landon! I know he means well, but damn if this shit doesn't piss me off even more. Just as I’m about send Landon a text, an alert comes through from him.

  Cam has to work late and we have a gig. You up to it?

  I had planned on going to Steins, but being on stage filling in for my brothers' cover band was always a good time and was probably a better way to keep me out of trouble. I text him back.

  Sure.

  He texts back that they are playing at Biggies and that he will pick me up at 8:30. I am so busy thinking about how to convince my brothers that it’s ok for me to have a few beers, that I’m barely listening to Trevor open up the group. The rules go in one ear and out the other as I glance at Kristy and notice her eye-fucking me. Great. Just what I need.

  I almost jump when I hear the door bang and I look up and see Skylar. Blush rises on her perfect cheeks and her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she sees me staring at her. She mumbles a sorry and takes the first empty seat she sees. Right. Next. To. Me.

  My body is on fire from the accidental brush her arm makes against my thigh as she bends down to put her bag on the floor. She adjusts in her seat and looks at me – sorry - she mumbles again. Trevor clears his throat and I look at him, shrugging.

  I’m fidgeting in my seat from the feelings that this girl sitting next to me is giving me. I know nothing about her, yet as I glance at her sideways, I realize that she looks kind of familiar. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Kristy narrow her eyes and cock her head to the side. I take a breath and run my fingers through my hair, looking around the room as the introductions start.

  They start at the kid.

  "Hey everyone, I’m Lucas. Today sucks. I don't want to be here. I didn't want to go to the cemetery today, but my mom made me. I miss Marcus. I have some shit going on, got some news today and I really need my older brother," he hangs his head to let everyone know he is done.

  "Thank you for sharing that, Lucas. We’ll definitely be coming back to that." Trevor gives a soft smile and goes on to other members of the group.

  There’s old man Jenkins who lost his wife, Maggie, to cancer a few years ago. Maggie and the old man owned the diner in town and she was an amazing lady. She took so much shit from us when we were kids and when our parents died, she made sure all of us ate and gave us hugs when we needed them. She was good people.

  There is crazy Mrs. Brandt who droned on about the loss of her dog. Really? I thought as she was sharing, but I guess even the death of a pet could affect you.

  When it’s Kristy's turn, I pay attention. I don’t remember that she had any family or anyone that she was close with. Then again, I never cared enough to know anything about her really.

  "My name is Kristy and I lost my grandpa a few months ago. He was more of a father to me than my real dad."

  I notice her bottom lip quiver and I’m not sure if it is real or just a show. I zone out after that, only paying attention to the sweet smell of cotton candy and vanilla coming off of the stunning woman sitting next to me.

  "Hey everyone, I’m Skylar," she introduces herself. "My husband committed suicide a little over a year ago," she begins and I hear Kristy scoff.

  Skylar gives her a look and I see her hands ball into fists at her sides. I know what that feels like. The anger. The scrutiny.

  "The circumstances of his death is not what’s important."

  She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and her eyes flash open at something that Kristy mumbles under her breath and then it clicks. I know who she is. The familiarity hits me and I remember seeing her on the news. I couldn't help but admire her strength when I saw her give an interview during the hour we were allotted to watch TV in rehab.

  "We all know what he did and who is anyone to judge me for his actions? I have been dealing with it alone for a long time. What happened was horrific but that doesn't mean I don't hurt, I don't grieve, that I don't feel an immense amount of guilt and pain," her voice breaks and at the same time my heart cracks open just a little.

  For her. For her loss. I know what she feels like. For the first time in my life, I empathize with someone. I relate to them in a way I never thought possible, but all I can think is Damn, I wish I were that brave.

  Chapter Six

  I blink rapidly, t
rying to rid myself of the tears, trying to stop myself from lashing out. Who the fuck does this bitch think she is? It shouldn't surprise me. Being judged is something I’ve gotten used to; however, I thought this was a judgment free zone. I thought I would be safe here and right now that is the last thing I feel. I want to run; grab my stuff and get the hell out of here, but what would that do? That would let them win and I’m sick of them winning.

  "I came here with a desperate need to heal. I haven’t had the chance to do anything of the sort because of the judgment surrounding my husband. I will do whatever it takes to feel better. I won’t let fear, guilt, or even judgment stop me," I glare at Kristy and bend down to grab my bag.

  I’m frozen by a hand on my thigh. The heat of his hand and the electrical current I feel traveling up my legs is startling. His strength is gentle as he gives me a squeeze.

  “Stay,” he whispers and all I can do is stare at him. The hard features from earlier are gone and his eyes are filled with understanding and respect. I nod and he removes his hand. I am taken back by the immediate loss I feel. He unnerves me.

  I settle back in my seat and listen to Trevor.

  "Do I need to start kicking people out of here?" Trevor is pissed and staring right at the fake girl with a bored expression on her face. "This is a judgment free zone, need I remind you? Everyone has a right to be here no matter the circumstances of their loss. Yes, Skylar's husband's death," he gives me an apologetic smile, "was high profile, but that doesn't mean she gets condemned. She deserves to grieve just like everyone else. If you can’t accept everyone in this group, you will be asked to leave. Are we clear?" He narrows his stare at Kristy who shifts in her seat and looks to Grayson for help.

  Grayson leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, a clear show that he is not on her side. I have no idea what their history is; I can’t help but feel jealous and it baffles to me as to why. I shake the thought away, take another sip of my coffee, and listen to the rest of the group.