Read Torn (Torn Heart) Online

Authors: Annie Brewer

Torn (Torn Heart)

BOOK: Torn (Torn Heart)
10.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Torn by Annie Brewer

 

 

eBook
version

 

Copyright © 2013 by Annie Brewer

 

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may
not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without
the express written permission of the publisher

except
for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

Cover Art by Airicka’s Mystical Creations

 

 

 

 

 

Acknowledgements

 

 

I have way too many people to thank. First of all, thanks to my mother for continuous support and giving me time to write this story and watching my girls so I could concentrate. I stayed up a lot of nights and had many zombie-like days, but it was worth it and my mother never complained. I’ll be forever grateful! Thanks to my girls for their understanding and letting mommy work so much. I love you so much!

Thank you to Christy, Adriana and Mari for pushing me to finish this book when I didn’t plan to. Your words of encouragement and enthusiasm helped to make this book something deeply special. I’ll never be able to thank you enough! XOXO

Thank you to Ash, my wonderful editor and friend who took the time to help me fix all my errors. Your comments always made me laugh. I love you, girl!

Thank you to my beta readers
; Jean, America, Barb, Erin, Dawn, Sylvia, Tessa, and so many more that I might be leaving out. I appreciate all the wonderful reviews and continuous love and support throughout my writing experience. You’ve all been the reason I’ve continue writing. Love you all!

Thank you,
Airicka, for the wonderful job you do on my book covers. I love your talent and patience when I ask you to change things a hundred times. But they always look amazing! Each cover is better than the last. I love you as a person as well and look forward to many more great times working together!

And last but not least, thanks to all my readers for reading and reviewing my books, whether you like them or not. It all means a lot to me regardless. Without readers, there are no writers. So thanks!

 

“Don't say we're not right for each other because the way I see it, we might not be right for anyone else.”

-Unknown

 

Chapter 1

Skylar

 


Perfect!” Randa says, as I finish one of my paintings, one I’ve been working on for about thirty minutes now.

“No, I think it needs
just a little more depth, maybe more vibrant colors too.”

She shakes her head, “No, it’s perfect as is, really Sky. I love it. You’re
gonna be a great artist one day.” She pauses, “Well, you already are. But you’ve got big things in store for you.”

My hand is tired and my eyes are seeing red. It’s time for a break.

“It looks stunning. It’s one of your best pieces yet, I think.” I smile at her kind support and encouragement. I’ve been painting since I could hold a paint brush. It was always my passion, my obsession really. I hope to one day open a store and sell my paintings or maybe even teach an art class. I want to go to Paris, Rome, even Portugal and who knows where else. Anywhere I can capture the images from the actual location themselves. My art teacher has a painting of mine on his wall.

I know what you’re thinking, I’m not a teacher’s pet by any means, however, it makes me feel good to know I’m good enough or artistic for a teacher to hound me about making a replica of the original piece I’d done for a project. A
smile lights my eyes and I place my brush down on the easel, sighing while admiring my work. Yeah, it’s good enough.

Randa
stands up and grabs my paintbrush, bringing it to the sink to wash. I’m not sure why she goes through the trouble, but I’m grateful to have her. Otherwise I’d be alone most of the time. We’ve been friends for years. I’m not popular nor am I that social. I’m just an artist who’s passionate and hopes to use it for good things. I spend most of my time painting things that fascinate me or I find beautiful. I also paint a lot when I’m sad, which is turning out to be a lot these days. I paint pictures of my father and me. Or my childhood best friend when we were little and inseparable. Before he started dating his girlfriend who’s a real witch, by the way.

But
Randa, she’s definitely one of the more popular, pretty girls, with long blonde hair and gorgeous green eyes….nice figure that I’d kill for. Her boyfriend Ian is pretty great; he’s totally sweet and perfect for her. He’s cute, but I’d never date him. She definitely deserves someone who treats her like a princess.

I’ve never experienced what it feels like to have my heart stutter in my chest or the butterfly
swarmy things that I hear and read about. But I guess it never bothered me before. Maybe in a sense I like being by myself with paint brush in hand, getting lost in what I’m creating. Okay so that’s not totally true. The only boy I ever had eyes for never looked at me like that.

He’s a football player, six-two, amazing-dark-almost black hair, icy blue eyes. He’s got the broad shoulders and chest and protective arms. I just wish he’d use them on me.
I mean in a hugging gesture. Yeah, that’s what I mean.

We’ve known each other our whole lives and were as close as best friends could be. Our parents were friends since high school. My mom and his dad dated once upon a time, maybe twice. But during college, they broke up and my mom married my dad. But he died about two years ago from a horrific car accident on the bridge. My mom hasn’t dated anyone since. I hate that she’s alone but she tells me she’s too busy to date. The truth is I think she’s still mourning my father’s death. Maybe it’s too soon. It was unexpected and so quick; we didn’t have time to prepare. But how do you prepare for death really?

My father was so amazing. He always told me how proud he was of me. He loved my artwork. I got my artistic skills from him. My mom can’t draw a straight line to save her life. But when I was three, my dad gave me a paintbrush and I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I ate the bristles. My dad thought it was a sign that I wanted to be an artist. Yeah, it didn’t taste good. But hey, I was a kid; what the Hell did I know? Then on my seventh birthday, he gave me a paint set and an easel. The first painting I ever made was a house on the ocean and a sunrise. I loved the sun and always drew or painted anything sky related, which makes sense because Sky’s my nickname. Anyway, he looked at it and almost died of shock, or something. I couldn’t tell. From then on, everything was artsy. I never had any barbies or dolls to play with as a child. No dress up time or even cars to play with
for me. In my house, it was all paints, drawing supplies and well that’s about it. Yeah, I was deprived of all things girly. But I’m not that bothered by it. It’s who I am.

“My God Sky, this is. It’s exquisite. You’re a natural artist.”

I thought my dad was joking when he made that comment, looking at one of my first pieces and almost croaked just to appease his daughter.

“Really? I was just messing around, but this landscape caught my eye.”
I’d just painted a picture of Paris at night, capturing the Eiffel tower just right. It shocked me to see how well it was portrayed. I had no idea how much it would look like the real thing. Maybe my father was right about me being a natural.

“Well, you are going to take some art classes. Your talent needs to be shared. You can make a living out of this.”

I’d never thought of actually painting as a career or long term goal. But I could tell my dad was determined to do anything to convince me of it and the fact that I needed to continue painting even long after high school. I’d been painting ever since. I guess my dad was right about one thing, I am a natural and everyone wanted me to paint them a picture, including my art teacher which I thought was appropriate considering its art class. I feel since he’s gone, it’s better to take this talent and go as far as I can.
If not for myself, then for my dad. He’d be proud, though I would do it for myself because I actually enjoy it. It fills the lonely void most of the time.

“Sky!”
Randa flicks my arm, bringing me back to the here and now.

“Oh
,
sorry. I was living in the past for a minute.” I look up at her, “What did you say?”

She puts her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow. “Well, what is so interesting about the past that you’re ignoring me?” She laughs and I shrug. “I asked if you wanted to go watch a movie.” She smiles then walks to the door of my art room. I follow behind her, turning off the light and closing the door.

I ask her, “What do you want to watch?” But then I smell something delicious, something coming from the kitchen. “I think it’s dinner time.

She sniffs the air, “Yep, some good old Rose cooking.” We walk downstairs where my mother is making dinner. I give her a peck on the cheek.

We sit at the table, “Do you need any help, mom?

She smiles warmly and shakes her head. “I’ve got it all under control. Thanks baby. My mother slaps my hand as I reach for a cookie, “I’m making dinner, don’t spoil it by eating dessert.” She turns to
Randa, “Are you staying for dinner, sweetie?”

“I guess so. We can watch a movie afterwards.” I put the cookies back in the jar and help set the table.

The doorbell rings; I get up and answer it, hearing bits of the conversation my mom and Randa are having.

I open the door as Jared steps inside. “Hey, it smells good in here.”

We walk into the kitchen. “Yep, it’s my mom’s cooking, of course. What are you up to?”

He sits at the table while I finish getting plates and silverware. “I brought some movies over. We talked about hanging out the other day.”
Must’ve slipped my mind, oops.

I turn to
Randa, “Looks like he’ll be joining us tonight.” She nods.

We like Jared. He’s my other best friend. He’s Jackson’s older brother. He’s Jackson’s older brother. He’s twenty, really sweet and intelligent. I used to wonder what he’d be like as an adult, and so far, he’s far better than I imagined. He’s gorgeous, like his brother.

Actually all the men in that family are. But if I was to be honest, Jackson is more my type. It’s not like I’d ever have a shot with him, though. We drifted apart, and it sucks because all I can think about is the five year olds we used to be; playing, fishing and having the best childhoods. Now it seems high school has really changed him, more like popularity has.

“I brought several movies, so it’s your choice what we watch. And you know I don’t really do chick flicks.” He laughs to himself.

I laugh too. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m not in the chick flick kind of mood anyway.” As soon as my mom sets the food down on the table, we dig in.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

Jackson

 

There’s a time in my life when I can recall Skylar as my rock; the one who knew everything, and
still
knows everything about me. Yet the one thing she doesn’t know, more than anything, I’m desperate to tell her. But I’m also afraid. I have to keep my feelings to myself; it’s just safer that way. For both of us.

Being abandoned by your mother at a young age will screw with your head. I saw what it did to my father when she left him with two kids to take care of; it destroyed our family. My brother and I started to clash as we got older. I was getting into trouble because I got involved with the wrong crowd. I joined the football team and became an a
rrogant jerk. I’ll admit that. But that’s when my friendship with Skylar took a different turn.

I remember
the moment I fell in love with her, yet it doesn’t matter in the end. She deserves better. She has a kind heart; she’s never changed for anyone. She’s a hell of a painter too. I can see big things happening for her. The only thing I wish is that I saw us both together; happy. But that’s more of a fantasy, I suppose. Still, when I see her in the halls, it’s hard to look the other way.

I just hope I don’t fuck this year up so I can fulfill my father’s dream of football, since he didn’t have that chance after an accident that ended his career. It wasn’t a car accident; more like a freak accident where he tore his ACL and badly
injured his shoulder. His parents didn’t want him playing anymore, even if he was a pretty exceptional player. It shattered his dreams. So now the pressure’s on me to do what he’s wanted to do his whole life.

“Cruz!”

I look up as my coach approaches me. “Sorry coach, I’ve got a migraine. I need to sit down.”

He crosses his arms as if to intimidate me. It doesn’t work; he’s not too much bigger than me. Still, I keep my mouth shut so I don’t say anything stupid.

“What’s going on with you lately? Your head is always in the clouds.”

“His head is probably in Amber’s bed…along with o
ther things.” Daniel mouths off and glares at me.

I whip my head in his direction and wish my eyes could
shoot flames through them. I’d light his ass on fire. Daniel is a pretty big douche. We don’t get along; mostly because he tries to step on my toes every chance he gets. He wants to prove that he’s better at everything.

Coach turns on
Daniel, “Pierce, enough! Save your personal crap for after this period.” He snaps his attention back to me, “You need to focus on the game, Cruz. We can’t have losses due to your clouded head.”

I nod and sit on the bench, hunched over, watching the rest of my teammates discuss strategy, while my mind wanders to where it shouldn’t but hell, it’s the only time I can think of her without anyone knowing it’s
her
. Otherwise, they’d torture her. Well only two of them would.

I hear
coach call out, “Okay, hit the locker rooms.”

I get up and follow Nick, one of a few guys who aren’t Daniel’s followers into the building.

“You okay man? You look like Hell!” Nick asks me as we’re changing.

I nod my head and put my clothes away. “Yea
h, I think I overdid it this time. My chest hurts and my lungs feel like they’re closing.” Total lie, but I can let him think it.

He laughs and hits me with his shirt, shaking his head.
“It doesn’t help that you’re a smoker. Hence the lung problem.” Yeah well, if that’s the worst thing I could do, then I’ll take it. Smoking calms me, shitty excuse I know. But it’s the truth.

“Alright, well I’ll catch
ya later chump.” Nick stalks off and I sit on the bench. I grab my water bottle sitting next to me and take a swig. I lean my head back against the lockers and close my eyes.
Stop thinking of her, stop thinking of her.

The smell of strawberry shampoo awakens my senses. I already know who it is before opening my eyes.
“Hey sexy.” Amber coos in my ear.

Jesus. Her breasts are level with my face and if I wanted to
, I could just move less than an inch and bite her nipple. She’s wearing a lacy pink tank top that barely covers her belly button and low rise jeans that I could totally sink my fingers into at this moment. I look around at the empty locker room and consider taking her in the shower but think better of it. With my luck, someone would walk in on us. Plus, I’m not one for having sex in public.

I exhale a breath, “Dammit Amber, you know how tempting you are, looking like that. This isn’t
a place to stalk me.” She straddles my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. Her scent surrounds us, it’s way too strong.

BOOK: Torn (Torn Heart)
10.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Heartbreak Ranch by Ryan, Anastasia
The Counterfeit Crank by Edward Marston
The Act of Creation by Arthur Koestler
Half Wolf by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
Queen of the Sylphs by L. J. McDonald
Her Christmas Cowboy by Adele Downs