Exquisitely Broken (A Sin City Tale Book 1)

by M. Jay Granberry

  Jake stares at the hand for a couple of beats before he drops his hand to Adam’s.

  “Thanks for being here,” Adam says.

  “You don’t have to ever thank me for being here for Sin,” Jake replies.

  “I was thanking you on my behalf, not hers.”

  Jake’s shoulders deflate a bit before he utters, “Welcome.”

  “Lookee here. It’s a Christmas miracle,” Dan quips, his gaze bouncing back and forth between Adam and Jake.

  “It’s nowhere near Christmas, asshole.” Miles grumbles but there is a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

  I can’t help the giggle that escapes my mouth and, before I know it, all five of us are laughing. It’s in this moment that I truly know everything will be okay.

  NOW

  Sinclair

  The last week was rough. I’m going on day five in the hospital, and I’m so ready to go that I almost run out the doors before the doctor can change her mind.

  I walk out of the hospital with four prescriptions, two appointments, one for a pulmonologist and the other for a counselor. Rachel, the nurse from my first day, gives me detailed instructions before she goes to get the final signatures on the release papers. After the papers are signed, the release moves quickly. I gingerly walk into the bathroom and change into the clothes Adam bought me yesterday. A nurse shows up with a wheelchair and pushes me out a side entrance to a familiar white Audi.

  Jake stands by the open passenger door with the engine idling and a worried frown creasing his brow. I follow his gaze across the parking lot and see multiple paparazzi congregating toward the front of the hospital. They’ve been like circling vultures. One even went so far as to dress in scrubs and carry a chart, trying to get into my room.

  “Thank God they don’t know what exit you’re coming out of.” He nods toward the group that has almost doubled in size in the last couple of minutes. When I stand, it’s hard to put one foot in front of the other. My legs feel weak, and just that little bit of effort has my breath coming in huffs, making it hard to breathe. I thought I got shot in the chest. Why are my legs not working? Jake helps situate me into the seat. He’s treating me like I’m made of porcelain. I don’t pay attention to where we’re driving until we pass the Strip on the freeway.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my place.” He drums his fingers on the stirring wheel, his nervousness becoming more apparent with every mile. “I just thought it would be more comfortable than the hotel, you know?”

  “Oh,” I utter because I don’t have any other words. I’ve been trying to keep Jake in a special little box, and pull him out to play every so often, but we’re so past that. He told me in the hospital to let him love me.

  I want that.

  “Sin, look at me,” he demands. My head jerks up. I didn’t even realize that I wasn’t looking at him. We’re stopped at a red light, and he waits for me to lift my eyes. “Stop running, baby, because I’m never going to stop chasing.” He hand caresses my cheek before moving into the hair at the nape of my neck.

  “I’m not running.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “I’m not,” I insist.

  “It doesn’t matter if you were because You.” Kiss. “Belong.” Kiss. “With.” Kiss. “Me.” He punctuates the last word by dipping his tongue between my lips.

  We stare at each other until the light turns green and the car behind us hits its horn. It doesn’t matter to Jake. He holds my gaze and I keep my eyes on his. He’s the first to look away as he steps on the accelerator and eases back into traffic. We’re on the road another fifteen minutes before he turns into a driveway of a modern house that sits on an elevated lot. As we wait for one of the garage doors to open, his face is turns toward me, but I keep facing forward trying to ignore him, or maybe I’m ignoring us. I don’t know anymore. I’ve been playing this game so long I lost track of the projected outcome.

  I haven’t let myself be curious about Jake. It felt a little too much like a commitment. A little too much like history repeating itself.

  I blink as Jake drives into the garage, parking next to a sleek black Porsche and a huge SUV that probably cost more than all my guitars combined. He turns off the car and steps out. I watch his figure round the front of the vehicle before walking to my side and opening the door. He reaches for my hand and laces our fingers, helping to stand. Hand in hand we walk to the door that leads into his home. Jake hits a code on the lock and pushes the door open, gently pulling me into the house.

  My eyes get bigger as I step farther inside. This house is stunning.

  “You like?” He places his keys on one of the hooks mounted on the wall of the mudroom. He guides me through the warm and inviting kitchen, down a hallway, and into a massive bedroom dominated by the king-size bed with the heavy curved frame upholstered with black leather. One wall has oversized glass doors that overlook the red-tinted mountains of Red Rock Canyon.

  “This is… wow… It’s exquisite,” I say. Inwardly, I wince wondering if that came out as stilted and awkward as it sounded in my head.

  “It is,” he says, but he isn’t looking at the room. He’s looking at me. With our fingers still interlaced he walks me to the bed. He lets go to pull back the comforter and bed sheets and fluff the pillows.

  “Get in.”

  For the first time, maybe ever, I follow his order. I’m tired. No, I’m exhausted. I toe off my shoes, untie the loose-fitting sweats, let them fall to the floor, and slip between the cool sheets.

  “I’m tired. Just going to take a little nap”

  “Whatever you need, Sin,” he says before kicking off his shoes and dropping trou. He leaves on his T-shirt and boxer briefs and crawls into bed. His heavy weight dips his side of the bed and he gently eases behind me. Being in his space and feeling his body in bed next to mine, I feel safe, protected. The even sounds of his breathing lull me to sleep.

  I jerk awake. My body is slick with sweat. The sound of bullets and screaming echoing in my ears.

  “Shh… baby. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Jake croons in my ear. His strong arms wrap around my waist.

  But I can’t. I can’t move past the panic. It feels like ash in my mouth. I raise a tentative hand to my chest fingering the edge of the bandage. Jesus Christ, he shot me. I make to sit up, but Jake’s arms tighten, holding me in my position.

  “I—”

  “Sleep, baby. I promise anyone coming in here will have to go through me to get to you. You’re safe. Everything else can wait until we wake up.” He pulls my prone body next to his and, second by second, I succumb to the warm heat of his chest pressed into my back and the steady whisper of his breath against my ear.

  For the second time in the history of us, I do exactly as I’m told.

  NOW

  Jake

  I awake hours later to find the room dark. The moon shines through the window in muted silver light across the hardwood floor. Sin is lying on her back. The bullet went clean through her upper chest, but it wreaked havoc and rained misery on its way out.

  The surgery to repair the damage was minimally invasive. Along with closing the bullet entry and exit points just below her shoulder, she has two small two-inch incisions on the side of her chest right between her ribs. Thick white gauze and tape cover the area and after seven days of watching nurses treat, clean, and bandage the wound, I know it’s easier for her on her side because it shifts her weight and removes the pressure from the area.

  What I didn’t expect was the satisfaction I feel at having her here. Call it possessive or obsessive, but I love that she’s in my house, wrapped in my sheets, her body soft and relaxed against mine.

  I’ve never had this burning desire to own any other woman. Sin breaks me down to my baser self. The man obsessed with claiming, owning, and fucking his woman. At all times. In all the ways. It’s a Neanderthal impulse. It doesn’t look pretty when analyzed, but it feels certain and final.

  I slip from behind he
r, tiptoe into the bathroom, and shut the door with a soft click, careful not to wake her. I turn on the shower, and hiss when the hot water pelts my skin. After a quick wash. I brush my teeth and wash my face.

  I’m drained. Even after the five or six hours I just slept.

  When I open the door, I find Sin sitting up her back resting on pillows against the headboard, big brown eyes assessing me.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say as I walk across the room to the dresser, dropping the towel to the floor right before I grab a pair of boxer briefs, and pull them up my legs.

  “No, you didn’t,” she says in a sleepy voice. Every day her voice is getting stronger, the husky timbre now more prominent than the scratchy whisper that was coming out of her mouth on day one.

  Holy shit, she’s beautiful. And she’s in my bed, waiting for me. My dick stirs at the sight of her, unaware that we’re here to take care of Sin not fuck her to our heart’s content.

  Sin watches me as I, approach the bed. Her lids at half-mast, making it difficult to read her eyes. I settle on the bed next to her.

  Turning my head to the side, I study her profile for a few long minutes before she turns and meets my stare with a combination of fierce defiance, and something I think might be love. Its right there. I see it in her eyes when she looks at me, and in her body when she touches me.

  She takes in a deep breath through her nose and lets it slowly ease out of her mouth.

  We’re at a crossroads. Our proverbial moment of truth, and I want Sin to go my way. I want her to choose me. Love me. I want it so bad it’s become an ache in my chest and an unfettered longing in my heart.

  “I know when you got back in town you thought I was an itch that needed to be scratched, but here we are all this time later and we’re still not done. I’ve told you since day one what I want, but what do you want? Do you want me?”

  Sin’s drowsy eyes drill mine. And for a long minute I she doesn’t speak. She not saying anything because she doesn’t want to hurt me? It’s no. She’s actually going to say no.

  “You know I want you but that doesn’t mean…”

  “Baby, it means we’re in this together. We’ll figure the rest out. Up until now I’ve been asking you for a chance, but I’m done asking. This is it, our opportunity at forever. Maybe our last one, and I’m taking it.”

  Sin grips the comforter, pulling the fabric taut. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make all the decisions.” Her voice is soft, almost pleading.

  “I know I’m probably asking for the impossible, but if you give just a little, just an inch, have the smallest bit of faith, I swear from this moment on your life will be magic.”

  “I want that.”

  “Reach out and take it, baby. It’s right here and it’s yours.”

  Sinclair

  The last vestiges of the wall that had fortified my heart over the previous four years crumbled under the weight of his conviction because I believe in magic, the magic composed of us. When I think about giving in, letting it all go, and giving everything that I have, I’m terrified.

  I drop my eyes from him, unable to hold his gaze. I pick at a loose thread in the comforter before I turn my eyes back to his. “I don’t know how, Jake. I want to put the past to rest, but every single time things are going good I expect the other shoe to drop, you know?”

  My throat aches with the tears that have started rolling down my cheeks. How can I write a whole album expressing my feelings and thoughts about this man, but when he’s right in front of me, I become a stammering mess?

  “Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Please, don’t.”

  “God, I’m so bad at this.”

  I barely get the last word out before he cups my face in both of his hands and kisses me, stealing my breath only to replace it with his own. His hands skim down my body, careful of wounds in my chest and ribs. And he wraps both around my waist, gently lifting me to straddle his lap, one thigh on either side of his.

  Jake deepens the kiss, taking deep pulls from my mouth. The tears come hotter and faster as my tongue tangles with his.

  “I love you,” I say into his kiss. “But I’m still me. My life right now is the stage and the road. Even after all of this”—I gingerly touch the bandage—“for me it’s going to sleep in one city and waking up in another. You don’t want that life Jake. You never did.”

  There I said it. Poked the elephant standing in the middle of the room and gave voice to the one thing we’ve both been afraid to address. In less than seven months I’m leaving. Our history says that our relationship won’t survive the ravages of distance or the lapse of time.

  He breaks the kiss, pulling his head back, his eyes roving my face. He brushes a thumb over my bottom lip, and his voice sounds like gravel when he says, “So, give me now. Give me the next seven months.” He releases a long breath. “And when the show ends…”

  “So, do we,” I finish.

  I stare into his eyes and they’re clear. No deceit. No hint of indecision. The only thing there is love. It illuminates his hazel irises but there is also grim understanding. The knowledge that sometimes love isn’t enough. That even the best of intentions fall prey to absence and loneliness.

  I lean forward, holding his eyes until my lips meet his. Jake opens for me, his hand fisting the hair at the back of my head, and this kiss… it’s dark chocolate, bitter and sweet, and heartbreaking in a very different way. Jake breaks the kiss, leaning his head back against the headboard eyes squeezed tight.

  “It’ll kill me this time. Watching you go will break something that…”

  “Will never be repaired?” I ask.

  He nods. Eyes still closed.

  “Then come,” I say, giving voice to my secret desire. The wish I’ve never admitted to myself let alone anyone else. Leaning forward, I kiss him again. “Come with me, Jake. Me and you, right?”

  “Sin, my life…” He opens his eyes to stare at me “Is here. My family… is here. Connor and I are buying another property directly across from the MGM Grand at the beginning of next year. I can’t just walk away from that.”

  “But you can walk away from me, from us?” I try to move off his lap, but his hands settle on my hips, keeping me there.

  “It’s not that simple. Would you give up singing and touring to stay here with me?”

  “Our careers are totally different. You’re trying to compare apples and oranges, and it’s not fair.”

  “Exactly. Nothing about this is fair, Sin. I have people depending on me just like you have people depending on you. Both our hands are tied,” he says, tilting his head, looking up at me. “Tell me you see that.”

  “I get it, Jake. It’s…” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “It’s reality or at least our reality.”

  “Yeah. So, we have the next seven months. You came back to me once. Maybe lightning will hit the same spot twice.”

  We both move at the same time, and we kiss until our lips are tender and our breath is short. We kiss like we have a small allotment of time and our number will soon be up.

  NOW

  Jake

  It’s been seven months since the shooting. I’ve watched Sin bounce back and recover as if nothing happened. When she hit the ground, it was with a vengeance. I thought she’d have more of an issue with getting back on stage, but she conquered that with the same ease she’s over come every other obstacle in her life.

  The Hotel offered to let Sin City out of its residency, but they insisted with Sin being the loudest that they were not letting anyone, especially a crazy man like the shooter, Ian Foster, scare them away from doing what they loved. So, we doubled down on security. Fully vetted every new hire. There are four nightly sweeps conducted before and after each show to ensure there are no nefarious pieces or parts left to hurt anyone.

  I’ve been dreading the last night of Sin’s residency. Just when everything between us is finally in perfect accord, she’s leaving. I swallow around the lump in my
throat, rapidly blinking my eyes. I watch from the sidelines as Sin works the stage for her final show, and I’m ten seconds away from barreling out there and begging her to stay.

  Sin talked about leaving my house after she was better, but it just didn’t make sense. So, she moved in with her security in tow. Pretended as if this was our forever. Even though we both knew the end would come sooner than either of us thought.

  When I woke up this morning, Sin was already out of bed. She had two large suitcases laid open on the floor. She was strategically placing items inside. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist.

  “Morning,” I whispered, dropping a kiss on her neck.

  “Morning.” Her hands come over my forearms. She squeezes both before gently pulling my arms open and stepping out of my reach.

  Knowing she has to go and letting it happen are two very different things. For days I’d been trying to figure out how to ask her to stay, hoping she’d stay on her own accord, and solve the problem for both of us. At the eleventh hour, I’m trying my damnedest to be the good guy. To lean on the knowledge that this time the end isn’t a shock and good-bye doesn’t mean forever. It’s more like until. Until the fucking stars align, and all the green and black ducks have made their way back into a row.

  When we started this thing, it was rocky. Hell, the middle was rocky too, but then we found our groove, it became home wrapped in a single intention.

  Sin is back, but she isn’t mine to keep, Not yet. Sin City is releasing a new album and the publicity tour is starting in New York the day after the lights go out for the last time in Vegas. I make no bones about how far gone I am for her. She knows it. Everyone in the casino knows it. The fucking world knows it. But this is history repeating itself. My place is here in Vegas where it’s always been as much as hers is on the road.

  “Sin, you’re not gone yet. You don’t have to…” I let out a sigh, cutting myself off. For the last couple of days, she’s been withdrawing, locking pieces of herself away from me, freezing me out. I’ve been trying to put on the happy face. I told her seven months ago that it would kill me when she left. And it is. But what’s the alternative? Ask her to stay even when I told her that I wouldn’t go? Ask her to give up her dreams for me when I can’t walk away from my business, my responsibility for her.