Pieces of a Broken Heart: Whiskey Bend Series Book One

by Conley, Samantha

  “Right. I didn’t want to hear the ‘I told you so’.”

  “But why did you not talk to Dani?”

  “I couldn’t have hidden that from her, and I didn’t want her to know that I was a failure,” I confess.

  “No one goes to Nashville and succeeds right off the bat.”

  “You can’t tell that to an eighteen-year-old. Fuck I was naïve. I thought it would be a walk in the park,” I laugh disparagingly. “Someone would hear me sing and boom I’d be signed to a record deal,” I declare with a snap of my fingers.

  “Yeah, that was a little optimistic.”

  “A guy who can sing is a dime a dozen there. On the street corners, in the bars. Just trying to play somewhere was a pain in the ass. Most had a waiting list a mile long.”

  “You’re telling me everything you told us, in the beginning, was a lie?”

  “Pretty much,” I shrug. “I didn’t want you guys to worry.”

  “Mom worried anyway.”

  “I know she did. She still worries.”

  “Well, can you blame her? Look what brought you back home.”

  “You know about that, huh?” I wince.

  “I’m sure everyone around here does. Like Dani said, the gossip mill is out in full force.”

  “Damn it.”

  “Most of the time it’s the positive stuff but they live for the bad publicity. This one is at the top of the pile.”

  “Do they give Mom a hard time?”

  “Not really. She puts a stop to that shit pretty quick.” He takes a drink of the glass that Dani left behind. He tilts his head. “Not too bad,” he utters before downing the rest. “You wanna talk about it?”

  “I didn’t know she was married.” I feel like I’ve repeated that phrase a million times since it happened.

  “Figured as much.”

  “She was flirting with me and when she, well, grabbed my dick I knew that she was down for more. It was just going to be a quickie in the bathroom. No harm, no foul. Both of us scratching an itch and she’d get to brag.”

  “Didn’t turn that way, huh?”

  “No. I didn’t expect to meet her husband's fist while we were dancing after.”

  “How did that turn into a damn barroom brawl?”

  “Mark’s drunk ass took offense that I got punched, so he went after the guy. They both fell into a group of bikers.” Wes winces.

  “I can tell where this is going.”

  “Yeah. I paid for all the damages and the owner didn’t file charges. Thank goodness there were witnesses that confirmed that he threw the first punch, or I probably would have seen the inside of a jail cell.”

  “Oh, that would have pissed Mom off to no end.”

  “Anyway, my agent decided that taking a break would be a good idea.”

  “He ordered you to come home?”

  “Vin suggested that I should come home since you were getting married soon.”

  “I’d like to think you would have come home for the wedding without him telling you too.”

  “Of course, I was going to. At the last minute,” I mumble.

  “You would have needed to be here a little sooner than that since you will be my best man.”

  “I am?” I perk up at the news figuring he had already picked someone else out for the honor.

  “Who the hell else would? You’re the only brother I have.” He rolls his eyes.

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “I wasn’t giving you the chance to say no,” he laughs.

  “Then I accept.” We clink our bottles together.

  Chapter Nine

  Danielle

  My phone rings beside my head making it pound even harder. No one ever calls the house phone, it’s always my cell. Oh, shit it must be my mom.

  “Hello,” I croak out.

  “Did you have a good time last night?” Mom’s too chipper voice sounds in my ear. Damn it, I’m not drinking again.

  “It was okay. Lila have a good time?”

  “Of course, she had a good time with Nana,” she scoffs.

  “Lord how much chocolate did you give her?”

  “Not too much,” she laughs. “I knew I wasn’t sending her home.”

  “Ha ha, hilarious.”

  “I wanted to make sure you were up and around for lunch today.” I glance at the clock and see it’s just past eight. Early for everyone else but for me, I’ve slept in.

  “Yeah, I’ll get up.”

  “We’re heading to church in a little while. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  “Okay, Mom, see you this afternoon.” The phone is loud when she sets it down in the cradle. Who still has a phone that does that?

  “I don’t want to get up,” I mutter laying back against the fluffy pillows. There’s one thing women should never have to skimp on, and that is pillows on the bed. Sunlight filters through the semi-sheer shade curtains which is just bright enough to be annoying as hell and not let me go back to sleep.

  “So much for getting extra sleep this morning.”

  The air conditioning kicks on and the cool breeze gives me chills as I burrow down underneath the quilt. Maybe I’ll spend the day in bed. Read the new Abby Zanders book and fantasize about some hunky men. My full bladder dissuades me of the notion as I throw back the covers and pad to the bathroom. After taking care of business and a long leisurely shower with no interruptions from a certain three-year-old, I throw on a pair of shorts and T-shirt before heading down to the bakery to decide what to make. Since it’s so dang hot outside something light and airy sounds good. I quickly throw together the ingredients for a lemon cake and toss it in the oven. I work on the strawberry filling to go between the layers when the tapping of glass captures my attention. I’m tempted to ignore it knowing we are closed today but curiosity gets the best of me as I make my way from the back room to the front.

  Apparently, it wasn’t just a dream last night as Zach stands at the doorway. How is it possible the man looks better now? Couldn’t he have gotten bald and a beer belly or a hideous wart on his nose? Just my luck he is sex personified. I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. He’s always had that effect on me, from the first moment when I met him. The question is what the hell is he doing here now?

  The smirk that crosses his face as he notices my hesitation gets me into gear as I slowly span the distance to the door. The doorbell jingles breaking the silence.

  “We’re closed today,” I bark out. One dark brow quirks over his stormy gray eyes. Immediately heat fills my cheeks. “Sorry, it is just my one day off. What can I do for you, Zach?”

  “Well, as much as I’d love to get my hands on your cookies, I wanted to talk.”

  “I guess it’s your lucky day. Normally I’m not down here. On my day off I normally avoid it like the plague. I was just whipping up something to take over to Mom’s for lunch.” He taps his sneaker clad foot on the tile floor a tell he’s had since we were kids that he’s nervous. His hands bunch in the khaki cargo shorts he’s wearing. Drawing my attention right where it need not go. He subtly clears his throat and I know I’m busted.

  “Is it okay if I stay while you’re doing whatever back there?”

  “I guess,” I reply hesitantly. “Lock the door behind you,” I throw over my shoulder as I walk toward the back. His footsteps are barely a whisper of sound on the tile, just enough to let me know he’s following

  “There’s a stool over there if you want to grab it,” I nod in the corner's vicinity to an old barstool I sometimes use. Not the most comfortable thing in the world but why should he be comfortable when I’m sure as hell not. Grabbing the handle of the knife I had left on the cutting board, I resume dicing the strawberries before adding them to the sauce pot with a little water and sugar, turning on the heat. The whoosh of the flame sounds loud in the room.

  “What are you doing here, Zach?” My hands grip the stainless-steel countertops so hard my knuckles turn white. Do I really want to know the answer to this? He
’s not here for me I know, but a little piece of me wants that to be the answer.

  “Needed a change of scenery for a while I think.” His voice sounds off like he’s not sure why he’s back in his hometown. He doesn’t sound like the confident self-assured man I’m sure he’s become.

  “What made you come? It’s been a long damn time since you’ve been home.” I can’t keep the derision of my voice.

  “Well, you’re right. It has been a long time. I guess with Wes getting married I thought it was time.” And little nuance in his voice, something I picked up on years ago tells me he’s lying.

  “You want to try again? It's been fourteen years since you’ve been here. You didn’t suddenly just get homesick.” The barstool creaks menacingly as he readjusts his weight and I’m halfway tempted to pray the same crashes beneath him. A little smirk crosses my lips at the thought. The business owner in me prays he doesn’t because I don’t need a lawsuit if he bangs his fool head. With my luck somehow, he’d damage his damn throat and not be able to sing again. I can only imagine how much it’s insured for.

  “I think you’re the only one besides my mom who’d call me on lying and not even looking at me.”

  I spin around and lean against the countertop arms crossed over my chest. He runs his hand through his short brown hair, a sure sign he doesn’t want to say what’s on his mind.

  “How about the truth this time?”

  “My agent suggested I take a break and since Wes’ wedding’s coming up in a couple of months, he thought it would be a good idea for me to return to my old hometown.” I chuckle, not because it’s funny, but from the irony that the only reason he came home was because someone told him to.

  “I bet your mom and dad were happy to have you home.” I glance at the T-shirt he’s wearing, noticing that it’s one of Marshall landings T-shirts. “They already put you to work, huh?”

  “Second damn day I was here,” he gripes. “Didn’t realize how busy Dad’s business really is nowadays.”

  “They’re definitely one of the busier places during the summer. Your mom is nice though. She stocks the place with my cookies and I always end up getting a few extra orders from the fishermen to take back to their wives. To keep in their good grace, you know.”

  “It’s hard to believe how much this town has changed.”

  “It is isn’t it?” I agree. “I never would have thought it could turn around the way it has.” The timer buzzes loudly and I hurry over to the oven, pulling on my pink oven mitts before sliding out the steaming cakes. The scent of lemon spills into the room.

  “That smells freaking amazing,” he states after taking a big whiff.

  “Thank you,” I reply. The simple words warm me, causing little butterflies to flutter in my stomach. Stop that!

  “One thing I missed were your oatmeal raisin cookies.”

  “You never could get enough,” I chuckle.

  “Never found any that rival yours anywhere I traveled.”

  “Secret ingredient,” I confess watching as his hand rubs his taut belly beneath the t-shirt.

  “What is it?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore would it?” I whisper dramatically. “Let me see if we have any left over from yesterday.” My sneakers squeak on the linoleum looking for the container that Callie usually stores the leftover cookies and cakes in that I take to the community center on Sunday afternoons. Pulling the clear plastic to me, the lid opens with a pop and the scents of cinnamon and sugar assault my senses. “You may be in luck.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, they’re from yesterday but they’ll still taste good.”

  “You don’t sell the stuff from the day before?”

  “Oh no,” I reply, aghast at the thought. “We make all the cookies and cupcakes fresh every day. The only things that aren’t are the more elaborate cakes for weddings and birthdaya.”

  “Why not those?” he asks, head tilted, as he leans forward on the stool. It creaks ominously beneath his weight.

  “They take time. They have to bake, then cool before we can do any decorating. Sometimes the decorating can take hours.”

  “Come on. Hours?” he scoffs.

  “Have you never seen some cakes that are being made these days? People expect works of edible art.” Going to the front of the store, I pick up the black three-ring binder that holds photos of some cakes I’ve sculpted and decorated. I thrust the binder at him. “Take a look at these.”

  I stir the strawberry mixture on the stove and add a little lemon zest before turning off the burner. Behind me, the crinkle of the pages being turned has me tensing. What if he doesn’t like them? He's traveled all over the world and seen all kinds of things. Why would he be impressed with the small things I’ve done?

  “Dani, these are incredible.” Turning, I see him trace a finger over a cake I made for his dad, a three-dimensional bass leaping out of the water. “The scales look so lifelike and the eye looks alive.”

  “I made that for your dad on his last birthday.”

  “That’s really a cake?”

  “Yup, everything on there is edible.” My cheeks ache with how hard I’m smiling.

  “I always knew that you were talented, but this blows me away.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I mean it, Dani. You were meant for great things. Have you thought about getting out of Whiskey Bend and setting up shop in the city?” He flips through more pages.

  “No. Why would I do that?”

  “Do you have any idea how successful you could be?”

  “I’m doing good in Whiskey Bend. I may not be rich, but I make a comfortable living.”

  “But you could be so much more away from here,” he protests.

  “I happen to love it here. My family is here. My bakery is here. Do you have any freaking idea how hard I’ve worked for this? How much I’ve sacrificed?” My voice raises with each question I throw at him until I’m yelling at him across the room.

  “Dani, I didn’t mean…” He shakes his head, holding his hand up, palms out as if warding me off.

  “No. Stop right there.” Pointing my finger at him, I lash out. “This place may not be enough for you. Good enough for Mr. Country Superstar but it is for me.”

  “This place is great but…”

  “No buts. I’m happy here. Why don’t you get the hell out? Go back to where ever the hell you came from and leave me alone,” I fume. How dare he question what I’ve done with my life? I turn my back to him fighting the tears welling in my eyes.

  “Dani,” he starts, his footsteps carrying him towards me. He stops behind me and I pray he doesn’t touch me, or I’ll lose it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Please, just go.” My voice waivers. He says nothing else as he walks toward the front. I hold my breath until I hear the bell jingle on the front door.

  Chapter Ten

  Zach

  The door closes behind me and the bells she has hanging from the handle clang against the glass. That didn’t go at all as I had planned. Why the hell did I have to open my big mouth? I walk up the sidewalk to where I parked Mom’s SUV and slide in behind the wheel. Staring through the glass windows into her storefront, I hope she comes out, but the room remains a ghost town. The engine starts with a turn of the key as I drive down to the marina.

  “What’s got you bummed?” Dad asks when I walk through the door.

  “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

  “The hound dog look on your face for one. The other is you’re looking at the ground and shuffling your feet like you did when you were a kid, and something didn’t go your way.”

  I pull out the chair next to his behind the counter. “I went to see Dani this morning.”

  “Whatever for?” he sputters.

  “I ran into her last night at the bar and we danced.”

  “And?” he prompts.

  “It was like nothing had changed.”

  “But ev
erything has changed, son.”

  “I know that but holding her close just made me…”

  “Long for what you left behind?” he prompts.

  “I guess I was just reminiscing about the past.”

  “Well, what happened?”

  “I said something stupid and pissed her off,” I confess. I turn in the chair to stare out the plate glass window overlooking the lake.

  “Typical male shit or something else?”

  “She showed me the book thing she has with pictures of cakes she’s made.”

  “And you…” He motions with his hand for me to continue when I hesitate.

  “Told her she’s be better off in a big city with her talent.”

  “Yeah that was stupid, son,” Dad concurs.

  “I know but I meant nothing by it.”

  “You may not have but obviously she took it that way,” he nods. “I don’t know what you want to hear here, Zach. She’s happy in this town. She owns her own business. She’s surrounded by family and friends. Dani never has been the one to walk around with stars in her eyes always looking for bigger and better things.” ‘Like you’ is implied without the words being spoken.

  “But she’s meant for bigger things,” I argue. “Her talent is wasted here.”

  “According to who? You? Who made you the one to make that decision?” Dad bites out. “You lost that right when you left her and never came back.”

  “Dad!”

  “I’m sorry. It should be water under the bridge, but I still care for her like she’s my own daughter and I don’t want her to get hurt anymore.”

  “It’s okay.” Hurt bleeds into my voice as my gut wrenches at the pain I’ve caused. “I understand that I hurt the people I love the most with some decisions I’ve made.”

  “Look I get it, son. You couldn’t be who you needed to be here in this town. That doesn’t mean other people can’t achieve their dreams here.”

  “Yeah,” I bemoan.

  “But your mother and I are damn proud of you, son.” He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder.

  “Really?” Hope takes flight as I look at him beseechingly. Suddenly I feel like I’m five years old again seeking his approval.