Page 12 of Unbroken

I step away from him and turn, marching straight back into the diner and straight to the back. Fuck it. If someone wants something, they can get it themselves and leave the money on the counter. I’m fucking done. And as soon as Fran gets here, I’m going home, downing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and then passing the fuck out.

CHAPTER 8

Kayden

Day 2,251

A better man would leave.

Iwatch her disappear in the back and I’m nearly gutted. When she looked up and her pretty blues landed on me, I saw it. The hatred and the anger, the remnants of the pain I caused. There wasn’t a single flicker of happiness in seeing me. There was no hello, no hug, no fucking joy in her voice or in her eyes like there used to be when I entered a room.

I’d played the scenario over in my head a million times on the drive here. I pictured her jumping into my arms, wrapping her small frame around me. I pictured her breaking out into happy tears, knowing I was free. I never once pictured her looking at me like she wished I was still in the slammer. And I never imagined her first words would be asking me to leave.

It was probably a long fucking shot hoping she’d forget all those horrible things I wrote her and that she’d be thankful I was here. I intended for her to hate me, and damn, was I successful in that. But I’ll say this: I’m not fucking going anywhere until I can explain. There’s no way I can go live my life without knowing I gave it my all to win her back. But…I still have to consider the fact that she’s engaged. And now, she’s probably in the back calling her fiancé to help calm her down. And he may be on his way here to give me a beatdown and make sure I never disturb his girl again. I know that’s what I would do if I were in his shoes.

Fuck. I’m not sure what the hell I’m supposed to do. But one thing is crystal clear. I need to make things right with her. If she never wants to speak to me again after that, fine, I’ll suffer the consequences for the way I handled things and then I’ll go die a slow agonizing death, alone, drowning in my fucking misery. But if there’s a chance she wants to be friends, I’ll thank God for what I can get. I’d rather have her smiling at me than looking at me with hatred. Even if I do have to watch her live her life with someone else, I’ll deal with it. Just as long as I can earn her forgiveness.

I may hate the fact that she’s moved on, and every part of my being may want to steal her away from him, but I will not destroy her happiness. I already did that once, and I can barely live with myself knowing that.

For now, I’ll give her space. Let her process the fact that I’m here. Let her anger settle. And in the meantime, I’ll be digging further. I need to know who her fiancé is and where she lives. I need to know what she’s been doing since I’ve been away. And I’m guessing there may be some kind folks in this town with big mouths. Little towns like this are full of gossip. Everyone knows everyone’s business, and I’m sure by this evening, I’ll have Wren’s entire life story.

CHAPTER 9

Wren

Day 2,251

The pain of the truth is worse.

Itear up the winding roads, speeding up to my little wooded oasis where no one can witness my breakdown. This is the last time I’m covering for Fran. If she doesn’t start showing up on time for work, she’s going to have to find another job. I’ve been more than lenient, but now it’s getting excessive. I need someone reliable. Someone who’ll be there when my ex-boyfriend who broke my heart shows up to town and tears the wound right open. Although, I can’t even pretend like my heart was even scabbed over.

I make the final turn and pull up to my camper, rushing inside with my brown bag of booze. Alcohol won’t cure my problems, but it will numb the pain for a little while. I’m sure Mr. Botker at the liquor store is wondering why I bought threefifths of whiskey at 11 a.m., but at this point, I really don’t give a shit. People can gossip about me all they want. My main priority right now is forgetting that Kayden ever existed. Forgetting the fact that he’s out of prison now. Forgetting that our time together were the happiest days of my life.

I don’t even bother with a glass, I just shoot the whiskey straight back, gagging on the taste as it burns its way down my throat. I’ve never liked the taste of alcohol, but anything that will help, I’ll choke back.

Why the hell did he come here? He just got out of prison. He should be celebrating. Living it up. Fucking some whore and making up for lost time. The words still cut deep. How I wasn’t good enough. How I was too tame in bed. Too meek for his taste. He has no fucking clue the thoughts that run through my head, but I wasn’t exactly going to write him back and tell him I’m plenty kinky. I didn’t need to make myself look any more desperate or pathetic as I already had over the year, writing him every week, pouring my heart and soul out. Crying myself to sleep every night, waking up in tears, then working tirelessly on his case. Just to learn it was all for naught. Just to learn I sucked in bed.

We’d barely started having sex when he went inside. I was young and shy and nervous. He’d been with other girls before me. He had experience and I was a virgin, so it made me self-conscious. And obviously, it made me a lousy lay. He could sugarcoat it all he wanted in his letter, but I read his message loud and clear: he’d had better and he wanted better. So, why the fuck doesn’t he go off and find someone else and leave me alone?

The place is too quiet, and my thoughts are too loud. I turn the television on and start scrolling through, getting angrier and angrier as I see how many romantic comedies there are. Does the entire world have an obsession with love? Yes, yes, they do. My grandmother always said, “The world wouldn’t go roundwithout it, Wren.” And by as many romance movies there are to choose from and all the blind dating shows on Netflix, it looks like she’s right. Everyone is obsessed with falling in love and getting married. And the stupid naïve girl I once was had that same dream.

The sound of an engine coming up the road has me turning down the volume and rising from the couch. This isn’t a thoroughfare so there’s no need for anyone to be out this way. When I see a fancy-ass red sports car winding up my mountain, I walk over and grab my shotgun off the wall. It’s time for me to show Miles that I’m done being bothered by his rich arrogant ass. But when it comes to a stop, the eyes staring at me through the windshield are not the one’s I expected.

Kayden climbs out of his fancy car, which I have no idea how he can afford, and stomps over to me. “The fuck you doing living all the way out here, Wren?”

Is he kidding me? He’s going to come to my place of residence and start lecturing me like I’m a child. I’m twenty-five now, not nineteen. I don’t have to answer to anyone, certainly, not to him. “The fuck you doing following me, Kayden?” I snap right back. “This is private property, and if you don’t get off it, I’ll shoot your ass.”

He comes marching over and grabs the barrel of the gun, holding it to his chest. “You want to shoot me, go right the fuck ahead, baby girl. But you and I are going to have a conversation first. Now, why the hell are you living in a trailer and driving a fucking rust bucket? If the man you’re with can afford a rock like that, he can afford a better roof over your head. Now, what the hell is going on?”

The man I’m with? Afford the rock?Oh. He thinks I’m engaged. Good. Maybe that will work in my favor and get him gone then. “Don’t you dare judge us for how we choose to live, Kayden. I love it out here. It’s quiet and peaceful, and it’s home.Just because you didn’t like the trailer you grew up in, doesn’t mean I’m living like trash. Now, get back in that prissy little car and get going before my man gets home and puts a bullet in your ass.”

He presses his chest tighter against the gun, seething between gritted teeth. “Like I said, I’m not fucking going anywhere until we have a chat. Now, put the gun down and get your ass inside.”

“I don’t take marching orders from a jackass. If you want to talk, you can talk right here.” I place the gun down, leaning it up against the step. With how shaky my hands are, I’m liable to make the thing go off. And in spite of the pain he’s caused me, I don’t want to hurt him. “Now, talk.”

“You aren’t going to invite me in? Offer me a cold glass of sweet tea?” His brow goes up teasingly, and I hate the flutter in my stomach. Suddenly, the humor in his eyes turns dark and seductive, and my body courses with heat. “God, baby.” He steps even closer, forcing me to crane my neck to see his intimidating eyes. “You went and got even prettier on me.”

The air seizes in my lungs as if his words are too hot to swallow down. The way he’s looking at me is dangerous. “Fuck, Wren. It’s been too damn long, baby.” His fingers brush along my cheek making my nerves tingle. His head starts to descend and I’m frozen. My mind turning blank to everything except for the pressing need clenching in my lower gut, reminding me that it’s been six years since I’ve been with a man. Six years since I’ve felt his lips against mine. And damn, do they feel good.