Damaged
Authors: H.M. Ward
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by H.M. Ward
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in
any
printed or electronic form.
Laree Bailey Press
Fi
rst Edition: April 2013
CHAPTER
1
Nerves shoot through my veins, filling my body with this spastic idea that it wants to run. Working hard to keep from fidgeting, I walk into the swank restaurant alone. Millie, my best friend, gave me some sob story this morning after we left the dorm room. Apparently, she met a hot new guy that wants to double-date tonight. My initial response was
Hell no
.
Last time she tried to set me up, I ended up on a date with a twitchy
klepto. Let’s just say things didn’t go well. He picked up everything, except the check. The time before that was equally horrifying. I missed some verbal cue and my date ended the night with a face full of pepper spray.
Okay, maybe that was my fault. Maybe I’m too jumpy, too untrusting. The thing is, once something bad happens, there’s no way to undo it. There’s no erase button on life. I can’t just click the delete key and start over. No matter how many guys I date, my brain is stuck on that night from long ago. Most days, my past follows
me around like a thousand pound-bear on a piece of pink string, looming close enough to cast a shadow over everything I touch. But, once in a while, that beast rears up and mauls me. He slams me back to that horrible night and it’s all I can do to not scream.
Dating provokes my past. It’s almost as if I can hear the bear’s claws clicking on the pavement behind me. My heart is beating too fast. My palms are damp with sweat. I want to get past this. I need to. I
t’s been too long. My life is living me. I feel like I’m the one with a pink string around my neck. One mistake brought me to my knees. That’s why I’ve shown up tonight. That’s why I try. If I don’t move forward, then I slide back, and I’m sick of reliving the past. I’m tired of the bear-sized baggage.
I want to move on with my life. I want to get over the fear that’s choking me whenever I talk to a guy.
Determined to be different, I stand in front of the restaurant and try to work up more nerve and a fake smile along with it. The smile is lodged somewhere deep inside. I yank it out and plaster it across my face. It feels like plastic, stiff from misuse. I hate being fake. I hate this. My pulse pounds harder. I reach for the handle and finally look at the doors. They are made of hammered copper, with big wrought iron pulls. The metal feels cold in my hand. I yank the massive door open and step inside.
A wood carved hostess station is in front of me
, with a beaming blonde behind it. She smiles at me. There are a few people waiting on padded benches, but it’s not too busy right now.
I step forward and say, “I’m meeting up with someone. Can I see if they’re already here?”
She nods and I walk past. The lighting is dim. The plaster walls are washed in rich warm colors. Dark drapes hang from oversized doorways, and a massive fireplace is in the center of the room. It has a stone chimney that stretches high into the copper ceiling.
I haven’t been to this place before. Millie said she’d get there after me, but that Brent’s friend, Dustin—my date—would be here first. I look for a lone guy sitting at a table for four that’s about my age. I walk slowly around the room and no one fits the bill. I stand there for a moment, not
knowing if I’ve been stood up, when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Someone is looking at me. I feel their gaze on my back. I turn slowly and scan the room. A set of eyes, as blue as gemstones, gleam back at me. My stomach flutters.
Oh, holy hell, he’s hot
. I walk slowly toward his table, barely breathing.
His eyes slowly slide over my body and he drinks me in. The way he does it is so sexual, so carnal, that my stomach twists. Butterflies fill me and careen inside my stomach, growing swiftly to bat-sized with every step I take. The closer I get, the more nervous I feel. Is it possible that Millie set me up with someone this hot? I can’t believe it. A soft smile lines my lips. It’s not
fake anymore. Our eyes are locked and I can’t look away. My heels click in time with my heartbeat and suddenly I’m standing in front of him at the table.
“Hey,” I manage to say, still looking into his eyes. They’re so vibrant. It’s
as if someone painted him. He’s perfect. If his voice matches his looks, I’ll melt into a puddle on the floor. Dustin’s quite the looker.
The corner of his mouth lifts and I’m treated to a swoon-worthy smile.
“Hey, yourself.” Oh, his voice. It’s hotter than I thought. There’s a richness to the tone. Add in the smirk and the dimple and it feels as though my knees are going to give out. I know I can’t do anything with him—maybe—but he’s the most delicious eye candy I’ve had in a long time. The way he looks at me is making me hot. I place my hands on the chair opposite him and slide it out. His eyes remain on me, watching me as I sit down across from him.
I don’t know what to say, so I smile back at him and resort to clichés. “So, you come here often?”
“You know it,” he says, still looking at me. It’s as if he can’t believe that I’m sitting in front of him. The intense gaze makes my stomach twist. This guy is beyond beautiful. Dark locks of perfectly messy brown hair sweep across his face, with a few longer pieces by his eyes. An insane urge to lean forward and feel how smooth and silky his hair is between my fingers shoots through me. I shove the sensation back down. The man sitting in front of me isn’t one of those Texas boys that’s all talk. This guy has hardly said anything and I’m enthralled.
T
he waiter comes and asks if I want to order. I ask for a glass of wine. When the waiter leaves, a moment passes in steamy silence. My eyes keep drifting to his broad chest and those full, beautiful, lips. It concerns me. I mean, this affect he has on me is like magic. I’m turning into a hot mess and he’s barely said two words. I break the silence and look up at him as I put my napkin on my lap. “You know, you’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”
“Really?” he asks, now grinning at me.
I nod shyly, and the waiter returns with the glass of wine. I take a sip as he says, “So, tell me what you think now.”
A coy smile lines my lips. I feel girlish, but the wine makes me brave. I shrug and look at him from under my lashes. “I think tonight is going to be a good night.”
“It’s going to be interesting, to say the least.” He carries himself so differently than most of the guys around here. He’s self-assured. There’s a slant to his shoulders that tells me he’s confident, erring on cocky. He leans back in his side of the booth, watching me. His dazzling eyes remain on my face, and his eyebrow twitches once in a while as I speak.
I’m so nervous that I can’t shut up. “Yeah, it is. This is the first time I’ve been in here. I never come over to this side of town. Everything is so far away. There’d be four towns crammed into this space back home, but I suppose that’s what makes Texas, Texas—the sprawling land.”
He nods. “Texas can be like that. Do I detect a slight accent from you—uh, I’m sorry, what was your name?”
I laugh. A slight accent is an understatement. I’m all
accent. “Sydney.”
He leans forward with a quizzical look in his eyes. “You’re from Australia?
No way.” A smile spreads across his face and I know he’s teasing. “I thought they only talked that way in Jersey.” He winks and grins at me.
I laugh. He’s caught me off guard. I expected my date tonight to be disastrous, but this guy seems perfect. In the back of my mind, I wonder where Millie is and I’m glad she’s late. I’m having fun smiling and flirting with him. The tension eases out of
me the longer I sit with him. It’s amazing. He’s peeling back the layers and drawing out the girl I used to be. “My name is Sydney. I’m from Cherry Hill in New Jersey, wise ass.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Sidney. You brightened an otherwise dreadfully dreary night.” He raises his glass and nods before taking a drink. It’s a flattering, here’s-to-you movement that makes me want to know more about him. I mean, who does that? He’s different and I
admire that.
I glance at him for a second. I like the way he looks at me. I like the way he says my name. I like him. “Glad I could be of service. I’m all about the chivalry.” My fingers pull my silverware toward me and I unfold it and put the napkin on my lap.
He laughs. “I can see that.”
Millie’s voice rings out behind me. “Sidney? There you are! We’re all sitting on the other side of the restaurant. I’ve been calling you.” Millie is wearing a cute little dress with a swishy skirt. She gives me a look and stands there with her hands on her hips,
as if I’ve been bad.
I smile at my date and then back at Millie, not getting it. I look up at her, wondering why she doesn’t slip into the booth next to me. “I turned my phone off when I came in. I couldn’t have it ringing while I was talking to this fine man, could I? Come on, Millie. Sit down. I’m sure Brent will be here any second.” I look past her to see if he’s here yet.
Mille shakes her head. She has a smile of disbelief on her face. She leans closer to me. “Brent’s already here, you lunatic. Now come away and leave this nice man alone.” She looks up at him and then back at me.
The smile fades from my lips. I look at Millie,
pulse pounding, and then back at the beautiful man across the booth. Horror slips over me like a cold sheet and I go rigid. I look at his shoulder. I can’t meet his eyes. “You’re not my date, are you?” He shakes his head, still smiling at me. My face flames red at the same time that my eyes elegantly bug out of my head. For some reason, he offends me. I mean, I was sitting here with him for how long and he didn’t bother to say that I had him mistaken for someone else?
I get louder and squeak as I scold him. “When were you going to tell me?”
He shrugs, seemingly amused, and rubs the dusting of stubble on his beautiful jaw. “I thought you were trying to pick me up.” My mouth forms an O and I stare at him for a second, unable to blink. My hands quickly cover my face and I chant,
oh my god, oh my god,
to myself under my breath. I hear his voice and see his smile when I look up. “You were doing a pretty good job. I would have been happy to buy you dinner.”
That doesn’t make things better.
Millie’s looking at me like I’m nuts. I feel her hand around my wrist, pulling me up. I stand and follow her away from the table. I can’t stop blushing. I can’t get rid of the stupid feeling that’s choking me. I want to crawl under a table and hide. I feel Hot Guy’s eyes on me as I walk away. I don’t look over my shoulder. I can’t, but God, I want to. He’s so perfect. Why does this stuff happen to me?
CHAPTER 2
I’ve never been in this restaurant before. When I came in, I thought I’d circled the entire floor, and seen every table, but I hadn’t. This section is behind the wall that connects to the bar. I didn’t realize there were tables over here, and apparently this is where Mille and the guys have been sitting.
Millie has been talking, but I’m so mortified that I’m not really listening. She finally stops at a booth on the other side of the fireplace and scoots in next to Brent. My date pats the spot beside him.
Oh God. He looks like my ex. My nerves are frayed as it is, and the similarities between the two men are so striking that I flinch. Old memories flash behind my eyes. The memories feel fresh, as though they just happened. I don’t want to sit down. I want to run. My fingers graze the scar hidden under my necklace. I’m frantic, and maybe a little terrified.
Stop it! I scold myself. This guy didn’t hurt you. Sit down
. I chant
sit down
over and over again inside my head. I can’t let fear rule my life. It’s held me back long enough. I’m getting over it—tonight. There have been too many times that I’ve let my past crush me. I managed talking to hot guy a few moments ago. I can figure this out. I can be the girl I was before. I swallow hard and sit down. Millie spares me and doesn’t mention that she found me at a random table, chatting up a hot guy.
I try to shake off what just happened so I can focus on my real date. When I see him, dread tries to crawl up my throat
.
Millie introduces us after I sit down. “Sydney, this
is Brent and his friend, Dusty.”
Dusty’s
a pretty cowboy. He’s got his hair slicked back and parted on the side. He’s wearing a starched white Western shirt. I bet he’s got fancy cowboy boots under the table, too—the kind that cost more than my car.
I sigh and say, “Hello.” I try not to think that tonight just got a million
times worse, but I can’t help it. I’ve been on this date before – at least I think I have. The choking sensation returns. My spine stiffens. Being this close to him has me on edge. Mentally, I scold myself to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I can’t. Every muscle in my arms and legs is corded tight, ready to run.
Nervously, I smile at him again and take my napkin off the table. I spread it across my lap. The little black dress I’m wearing has a scoop neck that dips low in front. The bodice clings to my curves and the skirt flares at the waist. I feel pretty, but the way his eyes rove over me makes me feel nervous.
I shift in my seat and glance at Millie. She’s already gushing, batting her eyelashes at Brent. It’s amazing that she can sit so close to me and be in her own little world. Brent is wrapped up in her, too.
“So,” Dusty says—his eyes overtly drifting to my breasts before reluctantly returning to my face—like I’m good enough, “it’s a good thing it’s not raining tonight.”
“And why’s that?”
He grins at me and says, “Because sugar melts in the rain.” Dusty pours on the country accent and smiles at me with a wolfish grin.
My eyebrows lift. I feel them inch up my face until they disappear under my bangs. I smile and laugh, nervously, not able to say anything that Millie won’t kill me over later. A sudden urge to run screaming from the table shoots through my body. Maybe the kitchen will catch fire and I can leave. I glance in that direction, hopeful.
Millie and Brent are talking. They’re both leaning into one another,
as if they can’t get enough of each other. Millie giggles at something Brent says, and then looks at me. I smile at her for a second, before her attention returns to Brent.
I press my back into the seat, wishing I was somewhere else. But I’m here. I’m here for Millie. I’m here for me. Taking a deep breath, I try to reign in my nerves before they get the better of me.
I feel Dusty’s eyes on the side of my face. They dip too low and I know he’s looking at my chest, again. I wiggle in my seat, scooting away from him and closer to the edge of the booth.
Dusty leans back in the seat and asks
, “So, what’s your major?”
Nerves are
flopping through my stomach like drunken bats. I’d give anything to trade them for butterflies right now. I’m so nervous. I feel so sick, but I refuse to leave. I have to do this. I have to have a normal date, get through a normal night. If I can do that, I can get on with my life. Just eat dinner, kiss the guy, have sex, and go home. That’s what my friends do. I can do that. I can. The bear raises his head and gives me a look. Fucking bear.
I take too long to answer. Dusty lightly touches the back of my hand. He traces his finger in a circle and says, “It’s okay if you’re undecided. I was just starting with the basics.”
Don’t yank your hand away
. My heart pounds harder. My ribs are going to crack. I find my fake smile and giggle nervously. “I’m not undecided. I’m an English major. What’s your major?”
“Business.”
Dusty tries to gaze into my eyes, but whenever I look at him, the pit of my stomach turns to ice. God, I’m a wreck. It was easier to talk to that other guy.
I force my gaze up and smile at him again
, even though I’d rather bang my head on a rock. “So, do you want to start a business?”
“Something
like that. Maybe open a shop or manage one of my dad’s stores. I don’t really know yet. After I finish this, I have to do graduate work, so it’s still a ‘ways off.” He lifts his arms and slips it behind me.
I can’t breathe. It’s as though he
knocked me in the back with a two-by-four. When his arm settles over me, it’s even worse. Damn it. Why can’t I sit here? Why does every touch have to make me so crazy? I’m getting better, I swear to God I am.
Then why are you still acting like this?
That little voice in the back of my head is a total bitch. She’s in cahoots with the bear.
Brent nods, and continues talking to Millie about a class they had earlier today. Millie laughs.
Dusty rubs his fingers on the edge of my shoulder, touching my bare skin. The dress is sleeveless. Suddenly, I’m somewhere else, lost in a memory. I feel my ex’s hands on me. The past and the present crash together. I stiffen more. “Relax. I won’t bite. And Brent can vouch for me. I’m not a total ass—”
“His ass-o-meter rating is around a two. No worries there, Sidney.” Brent smirks at me. His eyes slip over his friend’s arm around my shoulders. “Me, on the other hand—”
Millie slaps his chest and laughs, “You’re perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.” She leans in and kisses him. My face flushes and I look away. Mistake. When I do it, Dusty is watching. Our eyes lock, but it’s not a good feeling. It evokes everything I want to forget.
The waiter saves me, and Millie stops sucking face long enough to order. We share an appetizer. Dusty talks more about his family and home. He pops a piece of shrimp into his mouth. “What about you? Did your family support you coming down here?” Somehow Dusty has closed the gap between us. We’re shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. There’s no way to scoot away from him, either. One more wiggle and I’ll fall on the floor.
When he mentions my family, I feel my hackles raise. It’s a common enough question, so I try to sound normal. “Yeah, of course. Whose family wouldn’t want them to go to college? And this school’s great.” I’m distracted. I lie. My stupid family doesn’t even know where I am.
Dusty leans in close to me. He takes a curl between his fingers. I glance at him and twist so the curl drops. “You look
so hot tonight.” My eyes instantly avert their gaze. Even though I’m no longer looking at him, I can feel Dusty’s eyes on my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. He leans in toward me and places his hand on my knee, slowly. Very slowly. I won’t react. I can do this. I can. It’s a normal touch.
It’s normal. I want to be normal. I want it so badly, but my eyes sting. My pulse is pounding like someone is chasing me with an axe. I smile at him again, forcing myself to stay put. Dusty takes my smile the wrong way. His hand slips under the hem of my
dress and halfway up my thigh—skin to skin—and squeezes. He grabs me and my world shifts. I’m here, but my mind is lost in the past, reliving memories that I want to forget.
My muscles react
without my consent. Shooting out of my seat, I jump up, banging into the table, shaking all the silverware. It makes a loud noise. I hold out my hands, ready to make up some excuse, when I whirl around and slam into a waiter. He’s holding a tray of food—our food—high over his head. When I slap into him, the tray topples to the side. Every entrée slips to the side in slow motion, and slides off the side of the tray. There’s a loud crash when the plates hit the floor.
For a second, I stand there paralyzed. Dusty gives me
a
what the hell
look. Millie and Brent follow suit. I feel their stares and can’t explain. They don’t know. My mouth dangles open, but I don’t know what to say.
I bolt. Before the night can get any worse, before I can make a bigger an ass out of myself, I
leave. I walk swiftly toward the exit, ready to scream or cry—maybe both. What the hell is wrong with me? I wanted this. I’m the one who let him do it. It’s like last time. The images flash through my mind, but tears are blinding me. I push through the massive doors, and nearly trip over the curb.
When the night air hits my face, I slow down. No one is chasing me. None of them want me to come back. I inhale deeply. The last half an hour has been an emotional rollercoaster. First, I humiliate myself, and then
I get grabbed. I cringe inwardly. I’m so stupid.
As I dig through my purse for my keys, standing under the portico, I glance up and my heart lurches. It’s the hot guy. He’s in the parking lot with his hands on his hips, in front of a black car. The way he stands draws attention to his broad shoulders and trim waist. I drink him in before I notice that the hood is up.
Why was I able to talk to him? That guy didn’t make me panic at all. I felt like the old me and not the lunatic that I’ve become. I miss who I was. I miss the old me. I know she’s still inside somewhere, locked away.
He must sense eyes on him, because he turns and sees me. Raising his voice so that I can hear him, he says, “I take it that neither of us is having a good night?”
I stare at him for a moment. My heart is still pounding. I’m in danger of stroking out. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I nod and walk toward him. Stopping next to Hot Guy, I say, “It was total suckage.” Some of the tension leaves my shoulders. This guy—whoever he is—has that old friend feeling. I don’t understand it. It feels as if I’ve known him for years even though I don’t know his name. It’s weird.
I sigh and look at his engine.
“Car trouble?”
Running his fingers through his hair, he says, “It appears that way. It won’t start and it isn’t from lack of trying.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I watch the way he’s looking at the car and can tell that he doesn’t know what he’s looking at. Neither do I, really, but I know a little. I walk to the driver’s side door, pull it open, and sit in the seat.
He watches me as I try to crank the engine. It doesn’t start. I look at the little gauges and notice the battery. He’s standing next to me now. “So, you’re a mechanic?”
I shake my head, “I just pretend to be. It makes for more interesting evenings.” I grin at him, not sure what’s come over me. I never talk random guys, but it’s not like he’s random anymore, right? Hot Guy’s face falls and I realize that he believes me. I laugh, “I’m just kidding. I know a little about cars. For instance, I know this one isn’t going anywhere tonight.”
“And why’s that?”
“It seems like your alternator’s dead. Either that or you shoved a hamster up the tailpipe—” My face falls. I wonder if he did something stupid. College guys do all sorts of stupid things to talk to girls. I get out of his car and slam the door. Then, I tilt my head and cross my arms over my chest. “Tell me that that isn’t the reason the car won’t start.”
He laughs and presses a hand to his chest, shocked that I’d say such a thing. “No, I didn’t do anything like that! And correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who came onto me first. I didn’t get here early and sabotage my own car
, just so I could meet a girl I didn’t know was coming.” The way he smiles is contagious. He runs his hands through his dark hair, like he wishes he could say more, but he doesn’t. The corners of his mouth curve and he gives me a look that makes tingles crawl across my skin.
I step toward him, smiling too wide. “I did not come onto you!”
“You did. Right back in there.” He points toward the restaurant. His face is serious, all smooth features and big blue eyes. “You sat at my table and made me very uncomfortable. I haven’t had such a beautiful woman overtly hit on me like that before. It was quite embarrassing.”
My smile is making it hard for my mouth to hang open in shock. It keeps opening and then my grin snaps my lips shut. “I did not!” I know he’s teasing me, but I can’t stop. I don’t want it to stop, and I realize that I’m actually laughing.
His arms are folded over his chest. He taps a finger to his lip, as if he’s remembering. “You did. You ordered wine and just assumed that I’d put out. Really, Sidney, you’ll have to learn to control yourself a little better in the future.” He looks at me from the corner of his eye, as he glances at his car.
