All the Broken Pieces: (Broken Series Book 3) (6 page)

I had been those things before—when I was in the midst of the childhood I tried so hard to forget—but my uncle saved me from it, fought for me, nearly lost everything to protect me. Loved me.

He was the first person who ever did, the only person.

And he was never coming back.

I always measured my life by two distinctions: before he saved me, and after. What he did back then was the catalyst that redefined my existence. But now there was this third unwelcome designation: after he died.

Somewhere through the haze that surrounded me, I felt the warmth of a hand on mine.

Brant.

He was watching me with knowing eyes, not pushing, not questioning or spouting bullshit about how it will get better. Just sitting in companionable silence.

It wasn’t lost on me that he was one of the first check marks in the ‘after Teach died’ column of my life. His friendship, however long it lasted, would forever be a part of my post-Teach existence.

I didn’t want to like the guy, but something about him called to me and I didn’t have it in me to push him away. Not after everything that had happened. So, I let him hold my hand, occasionally looking up through my tears to find his somber eyes on mine. He wasn’t so much watching me as he was watching
over
me. It was comforting, so I let him do it—going against my natural instincts. I generally didn’t get cozy with guys, didn’t do affection or even much attention unless I was the initiator.

Today wasn’t just any day, though, and I had a feeling that Brant wasn’t just any guy.

Something in the way he approached me, the way he didn’t push me to talk or pretend I was okay when I clearly wasn’t, suggested he really did know how I was feeling. Maybe that was why I twisted my palm up and threaded my fingers through his.

He gave my hand a little squeeze but didn’t react otherwise.

I heard the click of the storm door and didn’t bother to look over, waiting for the loud bang that usually followed. When it didn’t come, both Brant and I looked over to find Bonnie standing one step outside the door, hand on hip, scowling at us. “You know, there are people here who would like to offer you their condolences. You’re being very rude.” With that, she turned and stepped back inside, letting the screen slam loudly behind her.

Old crow.

Brant lifted our joined hands and gave me a soft smile. “The way you’re crushing my hand, maybe I should have let you have a shot at Jacob earlier.” I tried to pull away, realizing he was right, but he held firm. “I was kidding, darlin’. Just trying to get a smile out of you.” He took our joined hands and placed them on his knee, sandwiching my hand between both of his.

“None of those people are here for me and she knows it. She just likes tormenting me.” I looked at him helplessly. “I’m not going to make it the next few weeks in the same house with that old biddy. I’ll end up putting arsenic in her Metamucil, I just know it.” I was mostly joking…

“She’s staying that long?”

“Apparently. She told me last night—in her snottiest, most condescending tone—that she would be running the house for the foreseeable future.” I blew out a breath. “Marilee isn’t doing so great, understandably. Bonnie’s appointed herself as caregiver. She keeps Mar so isolated, I’ve barely gotten to say two words to her these last couple of days. The doctor put her on anxiety meds that have her walking around like a zombie, so I’m not sure she’s even aware of what Bonnie’s doing. And I can’t very well point it out because Mar is already dealing with so much. Honestly, I don’t know how to talk to her anyway. Teach was the thread that connected Marilee and I, without him I’m not sure how to approach her.”

I waved off his questioning look and continued. “She’s sweet to me, always has been, but I think it was mostly because she knew I loved him so much and she appreciated that. Now though, he’s gone, she’s a wreck, and I have her sister the geriatric asshat gunning for me. The diner is closed for the rest of the week which leaves me with nowhere to go to get away, so I just stay in my room all the time and try not to cause problems.” As I said that, images of my younger self flashed through my mind—hiding in my room, hoping to go unnoticed, stomach cramping from hunger but too afraid to ask for food because then they would remember I was there.

Brant’s voice cut through the unwelcome memories, dissolving them like smoke in the wind. “Is there somewhere else you can stay until the old bat leaves?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I mean, Ali and Clay offered earlier today—I guess they heard about Bonnie staying—but I turned them down. It was a nice gesture but they don’t want me cramping their style. Besides, all it would do is feed the gossip mill. I can only imagine what they would say about me living with the poor couple I tormented last year. Heads would explode all over town.”

“You never would have done those things under normal circumstances. Keith gave you no choice. And fuck what these people think. They have no bearing on your life, and their opinion of you is their problem, not yours.” He looked annoyed a moment longer, then the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “That being said, you’re probably smart to turn them down. They tried to get me to stay there too, but I wasn’t about to deal with them while they are still in the honeymoon phase, if you get my meaning.” He raised one brow.

“Ah… yep, I made the right decision.” I nodded knowingly.

Just then there was an odd tapping sound. We turned to see Bonnie’s sour face at the kitchen window, scowling at me as she thumped the glass and motioned for me to come inside as if I were a damn child.

Brant turned back to me with an angry expression. It was kind of sexy, actually. His jaw was clenched and his brows pinched together. “I’ve never disliked someone this much so soon after meeting them.” His expression softened and he nodded toward the corner of the house, in the direction of the driveway. “Do you want to get out of here for a while? Maybe go for a drive?”

I looked between his dark blue eyes and the frowning face in the window, only hesitating for a moment. “Hell yes, I do.”

He let go of my hand and jumped down, reaching up and gripping my waist on both sides to help me to the ground. “Then let’s put my truck in the wind.” He chuckled, pulling me along behind him as he made his way around the side of the house.

I was surprised to hear the sound of my soft laughter in my ears as we raced toward freedom.

•••

Brant’s truck was freaking awesome. A huge F-150 that was sleek and loud and fast as hell. It was like sex on four wheels. Charcoal gray with black Shelby stripes, grayed out headlights, and black wheels… it looked stealthy and dangerous; a combination of smoke and shadow. Just seeing it had gotten my blood pumping. The exhaust system sounded amazing, a deep moan with just enough rumble to make my thighs clench together.

What could I say? I was a truck girl. Always had been.

Brant had noticed my obvious delight when we approached the truck and offered to let me drive, but I told him I’d rather ride. I wanted the windows down so I could lean back and let the wind chase away every thought in my head. I wanted to be able to breathe again. He just smiled and held out a hand to help me climb into the passenger seat. When he got in, he reached into the back seat and snagged a ball cap, offering it to me to keep my hair out of my face. I took it gratefully and threaded my thick locks through the opening in the back before pulling it low on my forehead. He smiled and told me it looked better on me than on him, backing us out of the driveway and onto the narrow country road.

We drove around for what seemed like hours. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, the fingers of my left hand absently tracing the cobra badge on the center console. It was the most relaxed I’d been in a long time. If I were a little less messed up, I might have dozed off, but even in my contented state, that was never going to happen. I’d never sleep in a moving vehicle or in an unlocked room. Anxiety was just another piece of my emotional baggage. Another way that I was broken.

Despite the lack of sleep these last few days, I felt rested as I melted into the soft leather seat.

“Hey, you want to stop somewhere for a bite to eat?” Brant called out over the noise.

I shook my head without opening my eyes. “I’m not hungry but I’ll keep you company while you eat, if you want to stop.”

“Nah, I’m good. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything.”

Something about the caring in his voice made my throat tighten. He really was a nice guy. “I’m fine. Thank you.” I cracked one eye open and tilted my head to see him better. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” He dragged out the word like he was unsure he should agree so quickly.

“Are you this nice to everybody?” I opened the other eye and studied him, wondering what it was about him that I found so comforting.

He blinked over at me a few times and returned his eyes to the road. “Um… am I supposed to be being an asshole?”

That made me laugh, the confusion on his face was cute. “No. I mean, do you always go out of your way to be so great?”

“You think I’m great, huh?” He looked at me and winked, causing me to roll my eyes.

“Come on, be serious.”

He held up a hand, smiling. “Okay, okay.” He contemplated for a moment. “I’d have to say yes… and no. Yes, because I try not to be a jerk. There are enough of those walking around already, if you ask me. So yes, I try to be nice to people.” He turned to look at me, pinning me with his stare. “But no, I don’t go out of my way for just anyone. Something about you makes me want to go the extra mile. And before you ask… I don’t know what it is, I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest.”

He’d headed off my next question before I could ask it so I just sat there, taking him in. His hair was somewhere between chestnut and mahogany, not too dark but not too light. His eyes were blue like mine but so much darker, like cornflowers and the sky after a summer storm. His jaw was chiseled and strong, his lips full and incredibly inviting. He’d unbuttoned and removed his black dress shirt sometime while my eyes were closed. I noticed it on the back seat out of the corner of my eye, barely able to pull my attention from the long muscular arms that were revealed by his plain black tee.

Holy hell, he has great arms.

I was a truck girl and an arm girl. Not the huge overly-muscular piles of rocks some men had, those just looked painful. How could a girl be comfortable wrapped in arms like that? Brant’s arms were perfect; mouth-wateringly, heart-poundingly, panty-meltingly perfect.

I felt it the moment things shifted in my mind and war was waged inside me.

I liked Brant, actually felt safe around him and enjoyed his company.

If I treated him like any other guy, if I did the things that just popped into my head, I would lose his friendship. Either he would think less of me or he would want more than I could give him. It had only ever been one of those two outcomes. I couldn’t use him. I’d just have to wait until I could get away, find a bar somewhere for an anonymous hook-up and get it out of my system.

The fucked-up part of me wanted to just go for it with Brant. It wasn’t like we were lifelong friends or anything, and he’d probably turn his back on me eventually anyway, everyone else had. So why not enjoy myself?

I was like an addict in need of a fix… I hated myself for what I wanted and yet I still wanted it.

“Can you find us somewhere to pull over?” I asked, barely able to speak over the sound of the wind as it blew through the truck cab. “Somewhere secluded?” I tossed in for good measure.

He furrowed his brow, eyes still on the road. “We’re not too far from Clay’s property. Is everything okay?”

“It will be. Clay’s place is fine. Just hurry.” Now that I’d gotten going, even the air whipping through the truck was turning me on. My nipples hardened in my thin lace bra and became visible through my sweater. I parted my legs slightly and was surprised to find that my panties were already wet.

Brant kept tossing curious glances my way but didn’t ask anything further as we sped toward our destination.

I should leave him alone. It’s not fair to do this to him. He’s just trying to help.

I imagined what it would be like to ride his face, that gorgeous chiseled jaw working as he fucked me with his tongue.

Oh, he’s going to help, all right. He’s not going to know what hit him.

•••

By the time we neared Clay’s property, I was ready to tear every stitch of clothing off him and lick him from head to toe. How was a seven-hundred-horsepower truck moving so damn slowly? It felt like we’d never get there. The sun had already set and left in its wake a slight chill that eventually required us roll up the windows, cutting off the pleasant white noise of the wind blowing through the truck cab.

I’d had my sweater, so it was no problem for me but Brant was in short sleeves. When I looked over and saw goosebumps on those glorious arms of his, I feigned like I was cold so he would roll up the windows. He’d left them down and dealt with the chill for me. It made me want him more while simultaneously making me feel like shit for what I was about to do.

The internal war raged on.

A freshly-cleared driveway appeared off to our right and I practically sighed with relief. Until Brant drove right by.

What the hell?

“Um, wasn’t that Clay’s property back there?” I asked impatiently.

“No, that’s the entrance to the build site for Milly’s Mountain. It’s still technically Clay’s land but not the section I was referring to. The driveway for that is right up here.” He pointed through the windshield.

“Oh. I forgot about the build. I remember Teach talking about it but I’m fuzzy on the particulars.” My voice caught at the mention of my uncle’s name.

Brant clearly heard it, turning to give me an understanding smile that was illuminated by the lighted instrument panel. “Yeah, we have big plans for that build. It’s going to be a ton of work, but in the end, it will all be worth it.” He slowed the truck and made the turn into Clay’s driveway. He pointed through the windshield, indicating the property at the end of the long tree-lined entrance. “Eventually, I guess, Clay and Ali will build a permanent home here, too. They don’t seem to be in a hurry though. For now, they’re focusing on building the children’s retreat. The rest will come later.”