Let Me Love You: Beautifully Broken Book 1

by Samantha Wolfe

  "He must work out!" Jill announced behind me.

  The ass did look amazing. A guy in a slim fitting green T-shirt and dark jeans was facing away from us as he talked on his phone. His jeans hung just right and hugged his perfect backside in all the right places. I opened my mouth to voice my appreciation, just as he ran a hand through his dark hair and turned part way toward the cafe windows. His green eyes and full lips riveted my attention. It was Jensen. He was here. Shit.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jensen

  My phone started ringing as I pulled into a parking space in front of the Bean There, Done That Cafe. Seeing Mom's face pop up on the screen, I sighed and hit answer as I killed the engine.

  "Hey, Mom." I forced myself not to sound irritated since I had literally hung up with her not five minutes ago.

  "Jensen, honey, I just wanted to make sure you got the right cinnamon rolls."

  "I know." My irritation slipping into my voice. "The ones without nuts, I know."

  "Jensen!" she scolded. "You don't have to take that tone with me." I could hear the hurt in her voice.

  "Sorry, Mom." I sighed. Everything seemed to irritate me lately. I never used to talk to her like this. Not since before...the accident. I stuffed that thought down as the anxiety it caused rose up inside me. It took a few deep breaths to calm myself. It was getting harder and harder every time this happened.

  "It's alright." She always forgave so easily. The thought filled me with guilt. "I couldn't remember if I had told you or not."

  "A half dozen, right?" I asked. Her forgetfulness was something new that worried me. Losing Jordan and then Dad shattered her entire world. The guilt intensified.

  "That's right. I'll see you soon. Love you," she said, her voice softening.

  "Love you, too. Bye, Mom." I ended the call and sighed again. I looked up at the store front and snorted as I read the marque. What was with these coffee places and bad puns? Shaking my head, I opened the car door and stepped out onto the asphalt. As I was shutting the door, a voice spoke from behind me.

  "Hey, man, nice car." I startled and turned around, a sudden rush of adrenaline making my body ready for a fight. An average looking middle-aged man stood there admiring my Camaro and thankfully didn't notice my reaction. "Is that a '68?" he asked and met my eyes with a smile.

  "It's a '69, actually," I answered. I steadied myself with a few deep breaths as the guy's attention returned to my car.

  "Is it a big-block?"

  "Oh yeah." I smiled, feeling calmer now. I loved talking about the Camaro.

  "Nice paint job," he said. I touched the hood affectionately. The bright green paint was my favorite color, and the black racing stripes set it off well.

  "Thanks, brother." I smiled at the guy. He returned my smile and continued on his way with a nod.

  I walked across the parking lot shaking my head. My recent jumpiness was really getting annoying. I never used to be that way, but since that night, I've felt like a different person altogether.

  My phone started ringing again as I was stepping onto the curb in front of the cafe. I stopped and looked at the screen, breathing out a sigh of relief as I saw Andy's name on it. I stepped closer to the building as I answered the call, facing the street with the store window at my back.

  "Hey, what's up?" I asked.

  "Just calling to see if you ever made it home last night." His voice was filled with innuendo.

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "I saw you take off with that hottie last night," he replied. "I figured you hit that. It's about damn time, too."

  "Sorry to disappoint you, dude, but nothing happened." My best friend was way too involved when it came to my love life. It was like he was living vicariously through me since he had gotten a serious girlfriend.

  "What the hell happened, man? It looked like she was really into you." He paused for a second. "What did you do to fuck it up?!" he asked suspiciously.

  "I honestly have no fucking idea." I ran a hand through my hair and turned my head to stare down the street. "Hey, can I let you go? I'm picking something up to take to Moms for lunch, and if I'm late she'll freak out."

  "No problem. Do you want to come over tonight? Drink some beer and watch The Walking Dead?" The man was truly obsessed with that show.

  "I might," I answered evasively. "I'll text you if I can make it."

  "Cool. Talk to you later."

  "Later, brother." I ended the call.

  I opened the door and walked into the cafe, the smell of coffee assaulting my nose. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight outside. I couldn't make out the person behind the counter until I was standing directly in front of them. I opened my mouth to place my order and snapped it closed when I finally saw those familiar gray eyes looking back at me. It was her.

  "Hey," she said sheepishly. Her eyes were wide with panic and still unbelievably beautiful. "Wh...what can I get you?"

  "Sydney." I said her name aloud unknowingly, and time seemed to stop. Her eyes softened at the word, and I was sucked into them again, just like last night. A sudden flush of pink filled her high cheekbones, and her breathing quickened. Her dark hair was pulled up into a low pony tail of soft waves, and I found myself imagining what it would feel like in my hand as I fucked her from behind. Her perfectly full lips parted as she stared back at me, and I wondered how they would feel around my cock.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat abruptly ended the moment. Sydney blinked rapidly and came back to reality. I looked behind her to see the source of the interruption was a cute petite blond looking back and forth between Sydney and me. My gaze returned to Sydney, and she began avoiding my eyes.

  "Can we help you, sir?" the blond asked, her discomfort obvious. I ignored her and continued watching Sydney, wondering what she would do about this situation.

  "I'd like six of the cinnamon rolls without nuts, please," I said as Sydney continued pointedly not looking at me. The blond turned away and walked over to the case of baked goods to her right. When she was out of earshot, I lowered my voice. "Sydney, look at me." Her eyes flashed back up to mine immediately. She looked lost so I threw her a lifeline and smiled at her. She smiled back and now I was lost too.

  "What are you doing here?" She finally found her voice again. "Did you know I worked here?"

  "No." I was just as rattled by this as she was, "Just a crazy coincidence."

  "I am so sorry about last night," she whispered while leaning toward me. God, she smelled good with some sort of tropical coconut scent. I stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep myself from touching her.

  "Then make it up to me," I whispered back, leaning in closer to her. "Let me take you out for a drink. What time are you done working today?" Her forehead furrowed as she considered my request. "No pressure. Just to talk." I was suddenly desperate to spend time with her again. Seeing her last night, had been a bright spot in the numbing emptiness I had been living in. I hadn't felt anything in so long besides guilt and anger and shame. She had invaded my dreams last night and it had been the first nightmare-free sleep I had in weeks. There was something about her, and I wanted to feel that way again.

  "I don't think that's a very good idea," she finally replied. The blond walked back to us with a box that I assumed held the rolls, and placed them on the counter top next to us.

  "That's $8.57." The blond smiled brightly as she spoke. I paid her in cash and thanked her after she handed me my change. I looked to Sydney again. Her pained expression showed her indecision.

  "I'll be back," I said to Sydney, and she looked startled. I'd come into this place everyday if that's what it took to see her again, and I hated coffee. I grabbed the box of pastries and turned to walk out of the cafe, hoping Sydney would call out to me. I made it out the door and halfway across the parking lot before I heard the door of the cafe opening behind me.

  "Jensen, wait!" I turned to see Sydney just outside the door walking swiftly toward me. I f
elt my mouth pull into a huge grin against my will. She stopped a few feet in front of me. "I get off at two," she said, and I acknowledged her double entendre with a smirk. Her cheeks blushed adorably pink again. I wondered if her face flushed like that when she did get off.

  "I'll be here at two," I said. She looked like she was going to say something else, but closed her mouth. I found myself staring at it again, and I couldn't help myself as I stepped into her and gently cradled her face in my free hand. "I'll be here," I whispered and pressed my lips to hers softly for a moment then pulled back to meet her eyes. "Go back to work." I smiled at her again and this time she returned it with a huge grin of her own.

  "See you at two." She turned and walked back into the store, her perfect ass wagging all the way. I'm pretty sure that was for my benefit. I went to my car, climbed into the leather seat, and started the engine, smiling the whole time. I was still smiling as I drove out of the lot.

  My smile lasted all the way to Mom's house and ended abruptly as I pulled into the driveway next to a familiar blue Chevy Tahoe. I gripped the steering wheel tightly and contemplated just backing up and driving away. I avoided seeing my sister-in-law, and my niece and nephew for weeks now. Every time I was around them, all I could think about was what I had done to them. It was particularly hard seeing my seven-year-old nephew, Quentin. He looked so much like Jordan that sometimes I couldn't even look at him. The guilt was that overwhelming. I felt panic starting to rise up inside me again. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, desperately trying to get control of it. It was starting to feel like I was losing my mind.

  I opened my eyes and looked up at the front of Mom's one-story ranch. In the bay window, a small hand pushed the curtain aside and a familiar face suddenly appeared. Quentin's little face lit up with a huge grin when he saw me and disappeared behind the curtain again. So much for sneaking away. I steeled myself with a few deeper breaths, grabbed the box of rolls off the passenger seat, and got out of the Camaro. I turned at the sound of little feet pounding down the sidewalk.

  "Uncle Jensen!" I felt Quentin's little body crash into the side of my leg and wrap his arms around me. I looked down at his smiling face and forced myself to return it with one of my own. His dark hair and eyes were so much like Jordan's that it seemed like his father was staring back at me. Thankfully, Quentin closed his eyes as he hugged me tighter, and he didn't see the look of horror in mine as an unwanted image of his father's face, as his life faded out of his eyes, flashed through my mind.

  "Hey, buddy," I forced out, trying desperately to banish the image before he noticed something was wrong with me.

  "I missed you." He smiled up at me again. I leaned down with my free arm and picked him up, so I wouldn't have to look at his face anymore. He wrapped his arms around my neck as I carried him up the short side walk that led to the front door.

  I saw Annie standing in the doorway. My sister-in-law looked tired and drawn. Even her makeup couldn't hide the dark circles under her blue eyes. Her blond hair was pulled back from her face, and her cheekbones seemed more prominent than the last time I had seen her. Had she lost weight? If so, she didn't have it to give.

  "Hey, Jensen." Her smile was wide and welcoming. She should hate me for what I've done. How could she still care for me at all? I destroyed her family. Her smile shifted into concern. "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine," I deflected. "I didn't sleep well last night." I forced another smile, and it must have been convincing since she started grinning again.

  "Well, get in here." She stepped aside, and I carried Quentin through the doorway. A squeal caught my attention as Olivia, my three-year-old niece, came running up to me.

  "Uncle Jen Jen!" she screamed. She still hadn't figured out my name. Thankfully, she looked nothing like my brother. Her blond pigtails were flying around her head as she spun in front of me, the skirt of her pink frilly dress flying out to the sides. "Look at my pretty dress!"

  "It's very pretty," I answered her with another forced smile. I put Quentin down and handed the box to Annie. She took it from me and gave it to Quentin.

  "Take this to Grandma, please," Annie said. He smiled at me again and walked away holding it carefully in front of himself. Olivia danced out of the room behind him. Annie turned back to me and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. I unconsciously stiffened at the close contact. I didn't deserve her affection. She pulled back and looked at me suspiciously. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked. The concern in her eyes made me look away.

  "Yeah," I replied flatly. She said nothing more, and I took my chance to step away from her embrace.

  "Where's Mom?" I asked, changing the subject. She continued looking at me and pursed her lips.

  "Jensen," she said gently. "What's wrong?"

  "I said I was just tired!" I replied with growing irritation. Her eyes widened at my words, and a hurt expression crossed her face.

  "She's just finishing up in the kitchen." Her tone was curt. I looked at the floor in shame and mumbled an apology. Then I fled to the kitchen without looking at her again.

  "Jensen," my mother said with a smile as I entered the room, "I'm so glad you're here." She was standing at the counter smashing some potatoes in a large bowl.

  "Hey, Mom." She came to me, placed her hands on both sides of my face, and took a close look at me.

  "You look tired, honey. Have you not been sleeping?" Even though she smiled at me, her eyes looked lost and alone.

  "I just stayed up too late last night." She didn't need to know that I hadn't really slept at all lately. I didn't want her to worry about me. She had been through enough. Her green eyes had dark circles under them, and I thought that her dark hair had more gray it, too. Did we all look like hell? The weight of my constant guilt pressed down on me again.

  "Go get washed up." She released my face and turned back to the counter. "Lunch will be ready in moment."

  "Sure, Mom." I left the room grateful for a reason to get away.

  I walked down the long hall leading to the bathroom, and I looked at the collage of photos on the wall. My brother's and father's faces seemed to stare back at me as I passed, and I felt like I was running a gauntlet. Everything in this house reminded me of them, and I was starting to feel like I couldn't breathe.

  When I reached the bathroom, I shut the door and locked myself in. I stood in front of the sink with my eyes closed for several minutes, gasping for air as my heart started feeling like it was going to pound out of my chest. I'd only been here for a few minutes and I as already losing it. How was I going to get through this meal? I opened my eyes and stared at the reflection that didn't look familiar to me anymore. The person I used to be had died, and I was starting to think I would never get him back.

  If I stayed in here much longer, one of them would come looking for me. I turned on the faucet and when I put my hands under the stream of water, I noticed that my hands were trembling uncontrollably. What could I do to get control of myself?

  A sudden image of beautiful gray eyes popped into my head, and I latched onto it like a lifeline. I closed my eyes and focused on Sydney's face and her perfect lips and how they felt against mine. My breathing finally slowed, and I could push the panic back and steady the shaking. I washed my hands quickly, and by the time I had dried them; I had calmed down enough to think maybe I could get through lunch.

  I eased the bathroom door open and was grateful to see an empty hallway. I walked slowly down the hall until I was just around the corner of the dining room. After two deep breaths, I entered the room to find everyone sitting around the table waiting for me. My steps faltered as I realized that my mother had left the chair at the head of the table empty for me. It had always been Dad's chair. I had never sat in that chair before, and the panic rose up inside me again.

  "Have a seat, honey," Mom said pleasantly, completely unaware of what she was doing to me. I didn't deserve to sit there. Everyone was looking at me now, and the fear of them asking if I was alright agai
n was enough to get my feet moving. I sat reluctantly and stared at my folded hands as my mother said grace. I took the few moments this gave me to smother the panic back down again.

  We spent the next few moments in blessed silence as we passed the serving dishes around. I barely registered that Mom had made meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans; all of my favorites. I placed the food onto my plate out of habit, but I had no appetite whatsoever. I barely registered the taste as I started eating. My grip on my sanity was so tight I heard none of the conversation going on around the table. It wasn't until I had heard my name, spoken multiple times, that I realized someone was talking to me. I looked up from my plate to find Annie and Mom watching me expectantly.

  "What?" I asked in confusion. The two of them shared a look of concern across the table in front of me.

  "Mom was just wondering if you were going to drive your dad's Corvette at all this year?" Annie said in an exasperated tone.

  "It's a shame to let it just sit in the garage," Mom added.

  "I haven't thought about it," I answered. The thought of even sitting in Dad's car sent shivers of dread down my spine.

  "Selling it's always an option," Annie suggested.

  "We are not selling it," I said vehemently. "That's not even an option." The thought of giving my Dad's car to anyone else filled me with sudden rage.

  "If no one's going to drive it, there's no point in keeping it," Mom said. She had never cared about our classic cars. A car was just a car to her. How dare they want to sell it? Dad loved that car. He'd owned it longer than I'd been alive. My rage flared hotter.

  "I'm not selling the fucking car!" I shouted and slammed my right hand down onto the table. The sound of the dishes and silverware rattling on the table was followed my absolute silence. All of their eyes were on me. Both Annie and Mom sat with shocked faces. I looked at Quentin, and his eyes were wide with fear. Across the table, I could see tears welling up in Olivia's eyes. Her lips trembled, and she began to wail.