Unbreak Me (2 page)

I hesitate for a minute. I was looking for some solitude down here, but I’m drawn to this man who looks as lost and lonely as I feel.

I hop off the paved path, and my heels sink into the soft earth as I approach him.

“You look a little lost,” I say. When he turns to me, his eyes are weary. I recognize that too and stall mid-step. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Maggie Thompson, sister of the bride.”

“I’m Asher.”

Asher
.
Asher.
I scan my memory for the significance of the name but I can’t find it. New Hope is a small town, and I don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean much since my mom invited half the state of Indiana and a good portion of Kentucky. “Asher what? Friend of the bride or groom?”

“Just Asher. And I’m not a wedding guest.”

Oh.
That explains it. “Just one name? Like Madonna?”

His lips quirk. “Something like that.”

“Nice to meet you, Just Asher.” I offer my hand, and when he takes it, I can’t help but notice the size and heat of his. An image flashes through my mind—rough fingers skimming over my bare skin, those eyes sweeping over my exposed body.

Asher should be the poster child for the sexy bad boy. I bet he even has a few tats under that pressed dress shirt. He’s a big guy, not just tall but
large, solid, filling his black oxford in a way that makes it difficult to keep from staring.

Hell, staring is inevitable. Not
drooling
is difficult.

His dark, messy hair has a little curl to it, the kind of hair a woman can slide between her fingers while her lover explores her body.

His stubbled cheeks inspire some inappropriate fantasies, and that cocky grin says he knows just what I’m thinking
.

“Maggie?”

The little voice stops my thoughts and my heart, and I turn to see my youngest sister.

Abby changed clothes after the would-be ceremony and now wears a little pink dress. Just looking at her makes my heart ache. She grew up so much while I was away, and knowing how much I missed gnaws at me. I wasn’t around to protect her from our mother’s unachievable standards. Abby may be the one person in this world who really needs me.

“Hey, sweetie,” I say.

“Hey, Mags.” She toys with the hem of her dress. “I’m sorry about what happened at the church. I freaked out.”

Something unwelcome sticks at the back of my throat at that insecurity in her eyes, that need to be everything to everyone at only ten years old. “It’s okay. We all panicked a little.”

“I missed you,” she whispers.

Even though I’ve been home nearly four weeks, I’ve been making myself scarce, and this is the first she’s mentioned my absence. The words claw at my heart and I pull her into a hug. She wraps her arms around my neck and I inhale deeply.

“Are you mad I got upchuck on your pretty dress?”

I flash a grin back to the sexy stranger and shake my head. “I don’t know what pretty dress you’re talking about. I’ve been wearing this ugly thing all day.”

Abby stifles a giggle behind her hand.

“Abby,” someone calls.

William
.

He’s headed down the hill toward us. “Your sister needs you for a few more pictures,” he tells her.

“But I don’t want to take more pictures,” Abby whispers, a rare complaint from a people-pleasing child.

“Go on now. It’s important to Krystal.”

Abby nods. “Bye, Maggie,” she says as she scurries away.

Will watches her go. When he turns to me, his expression shifts from stoic to pained.

“Are you married? Is it official?” How ironic that he’s the only one here I trust enough to ask.

“No.” The word is so soft I almost miss it.

“So…now what?”

His eyes devour me. It’s been a year since I was his, and it’s like he’s trying to catalogue every new freckle, trying to account for every missed smile. “We haven’t decided yet.”

I open my mouth to speak then close it. My throat is so tight there’s no room for words. I can’t identify the emotion strangling me. Hope that he’ll give me another chance? Fear that he might?

“Maggie.” He breathes my name like a prayer, but then says, “It doesn’t change anything. We’re getting married. I love her. She wants to make a life with me.”

I force a smile to hide that he’s just smacked me with his words. Krystal wants to make a life with him, and I hadn’t.

Not true,
my mind objects. But I know that’s what he must think. It’s what I’d made him think.

Will notices the stranger for the first time. I’d forgotten about him, but he’s still there, watching us carefully. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s with me,” I blurt. “Krystal said I could bring a date.” The impulse to make Will think I’m attached is kneejerk, but I regret my words as soon as I see the man’s eyebrows lift. I didn’t mean for him to hear me, and horror sweeps over my face in hot waves.

But instead of calling me on my lie, Asher comes to my side and wraps his arm loosely around my shoulders. “I didn’t want my girl to have to dance alone.”

Will blinks then jerks back, and, as if we’re tied together by invisible threads, I have to fight the instinct to follow.

“The bar opens in ten,” he says. “Enjoy yourselves.” With that, he turns and heads back to the reception.

When he’s gone, I step out of the stranger’s embrace. “You didn’t want your girl to dance alone?”

“You started it.” He grins full-out now, and my heart damn near stops in my chest. Sexy Stranger goes from hot to
panty-melting
when he grins.

“Are you prepared to continue this charade all night?” I ask. “To dance and pretend you like a total stranger just to help her out of an awkward conversation?”

He shrugs. “I can think of worse ways to spend my time.” He slides his gaze over me. When he returns to my face, I notice his eyes for the first time. Wolf eyes. A blue so icy it’s nearly colorless, rimmed by a dark ring.

This might not be the worst day of my life after all.

“Want to check out that open bar?” I ask, nodding toward the reception. “My family is loaded, so I’m sure it’s stocked with the good stuff.” I’m already heading in that direction, hoping he’ll follow, hoping the company of a stranger will keep people and all their polite inquiries far away.

“Do you dance?” Asher stops me before I can make it to the bar.

“Not even a little.”

He has Bad Boy written all over him, and my mom is going to flip when she sees me on his arm. Of course, this only enhances the appeal.

“Okay. I give up,” Asher says. “I can’t figure it out.” His eyes connect with mine and send a little buzz through me.

I thought I’d lost that—the ability to get a buzz from the way a boy looks at me.

This is no boy
, my mind tells me.
This is a man.
I’m no stranger to older men, but when I came back to New Hope, it was with a promise to myself that things would be different. That
I’d
be different. And yet here I am, preparing to spend my evening with a sexy stranger who breaks all the New Me rules.

“What’s making you crazy?”

“I know you from somewhere…”

I have to laugh at that. “That line? Really? If you’re trying to pick me up, can’t you at least amuse me by coming up with something unique?”

He flashes that wicked, devil-may-care grin again and my goddamn stomach does a little flip. “Is that what you think I’m trying to do?”

I shrug. “I don’t really know. It’s been a long time since I bothered with games.”

He steps closer, looking down at me. “Because you get right to the point?”

He guides me to the dance floor, and I let him.

Etta James croons from the speakers as this beautiful bad boy pulls me into his arms, his eyes roaming over my face like this is foreplay. He’s a man who makes dancing easy, guiding me around so smoothly I could be walking on clouds.

When he dips his head, his mouth brushes my ear. “You know, don’t you, that by dancing with me, you’re going to make people whisper about you all night?”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. They are whispering about me, it’s true, but the whispers have nothing to do with some mystery man.

It was a year ago, but my wedding to William Bailey is still the hottest kind of gossip. A wedding called off two days before the bride and groom were scheduled to say their vows? Young bride ran away to God-knows-where for an entire year? Hell, the people of New Hope usually have to steal the mayor’s cable to get stories that juicy.

“It doesn’t matter,” I murmur. Over Asher’s shoulder, my three older sisters watch me with unhinged jaws. What’s with them?

The song ends and the crowd on the dance floor shifts. Some couples return to their seats and others slide into each other’s arms.

Asher grins. “I thought you didn’t dance?”

“I don’t. Couldn’t you tell?” I shiver under his hot gaze. One dance and I’m contemplating bridesmaid clichés and one-night stands.

The DJ transitions to another song, and I find myself moving into his arms again. We fall into the rhythm of the music, and I’m rethinking my aversion to dancing when I feel a vibration from his hip. He’s busy tracing my shoulder with the rough pad of his thumb and doesn’t notice.

“Is that a cell phone in your pocket,” I whisper up at him, “or did I misplace my vibrator?”

He pulls away and reaches for his phone. “You’re something else.” He glances at the number on the display. “I have to take this. It was nice to meet you, Maggie. Thank you for the dance.” He winks at me as he backs away, leaving me grinning on the edge of the dance floor, dumb with lust.

My good mood vanishes when I turn and see Will and Krystal dancing.

My
Will, I catch myself thinking. Which isn’t fair, and I know that, but I keep remembering his arms wrapped around me and his breath in my hair as he whispered,
“If you’re broken, I’ll fix you.”

His thumb brushes her cheek, and he’s looking at her with such tenderness, I stumble over my own feet in my rush to get off the dance floor. Loneliness claws at me, digging into my flesh just deeply enough that my eyes wet with tears.

Chapter Two

William

I am an addict.

I am the cocky asshole who thinks he’s bigger than his addiction. I am the ignorant son of a bitch who thinks he can look temptation in the face and walk away.

I have never been so wrong about anything.

Like most addicts, I can’t tell you when my addiction began. I can’t tell you the moment when my fondness for her became something more compelling. More dangerous. Was it when she was fifteen and showed up in my dorm room at Notre Dame? The girl next door suddenly a curvy vixen with sad eyes and hungry hands? Was it when I came back home for graduate school and she became a constant in my life? Or did it only begin when I tasted her lips for the first time, the sun reflecting off the water, the breeze ruffling our hair?

Maybe addictions don’t have a beginning. They certainly don’t have an end.

The bathroom door jars open and I remember myself. Who I am. Where I am.

She’s staring at me, arms wrapped around herself as if her long, hot shower left her cold. “You could feign a little disappointment, you know.”

Krystal is pissed. Hell, she should be. Today was everything to her. She’d planned every detail, as if the perfect wedding might make the guests forget I was supposed to marry her sister first. But it was ruined. And no one forgets.

“I am disappointed,” I protest. Even to my own ears I sound apathetic, but I’m not, dammit, I’m just…weak.

“You need to tell me the truth.” She settles on the bed, the hotel’s fluffy white robe enveloping her petite frame. “Are you relieved? Do you feel like you dodged a bullet?” Her voice wavers, as if she’s struggling to hold back tears, and I feel like the world’s biggest asshole.

“No.” I take her hands in mine. Squeeze her fingertips against my palms. “I want to marry you.”

Her big brown eyes search my face, reading it for signs of a relapse. “You haven’t been the same since she’s been home.”

There’s no correct way I can respond to this and we both know it. Agreement will only prime her insecurities. Disagreement would be the lie that will drive this growing wedge between us. “I want to marry you,” I repeat. “Let’s do it again. A new ceremony. A new reception. Whatever you want.”

She blinks at me and forces a smile. “Okay.”

“I love you.” I sound a little desperate. Maybe I am.

She leans her head against my shoulder, and her wet hair seeps through my shirt and chills my skin. One month ago, this bond between us was enough. One month ago, when I told Krystal I loved her, I didn’t have a devil on my shoulder weighing that love against my love for someone else. One month ago, Maggie was out of my system.

I close my eyes with every intention to focus on Krystal, on my love for her, hers for me. Our future. Instead, I see Maggie lying by the river after a heavy rain, her hair splayed in a red sunburst against the lush green grass as she listens to the rushing water. I see Maggie’s sprinkle of freckles and Maggie’s bright green eyes laughing at me.

Krystal sniffs into my chest and I draw her tightly against me, focusing on the feel of her in my arms, trying to stay in
this
moment, with
this
woman. But my memory has taken hold and I feel Maggie’s soft exhale against my lips, Maggie rolling under me in the dewy grass, Maggie’s mouth connecting with mine.

“I love you too,” Krystal says, and I can only faintly make out the words over the sound of the river rushing in my ears.

I am an addict and Maggie Thompson is my drug.

***

Maggie

Technically,
I am trespassing.
Technically,
trespassing is not part of the New Me plan. But it hardly feels like trespassing to use the neighbor’s gorgeous, well-maintained pool when a) I’ve been doing it since I was sixteen, and b) the rich dude who owns the place is never around. I like to think I’m doing him a favor. He must spend a crap ton of money to maintain this place, but he doesn’t get any use out of it because he’s always away at his house in Vail or wherever. It would be wasteful for me
not
to use it just because of some technicality.