Broken Love (Blinded Love Series Book 2)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  Like Jones said, we were always set on a collision course, but only because Colton died. I hated losing Colton brought forth that truth, but it didn’t make it any less accurate. His absence broke my heart, but I had no doubt I would have carried on in that false reality, might even have married him, without seeing the real Hunter. All of us would have been miserable, because none of us were with the right person.

  As much as I wanted Colton alive, I couldn’t regret where life had brought me—scuttling down the hall from Hunter’s room after a night of unbelievable sex.

  The door beeped from my keycard, releasing the door. The room dark, I tiptoed in, but stopped when I heard the deep moan of a woman.

  “Oh fuck, Stevie!”

  Before I could flip around, my eyes landed on movement in the bed. An unknown girl’s head rocked back as someone pleased her under the sheets.

  “Oh holy shit. Sorry!” I whirled around, embarrassment stinging my face and neck.

  The girl yelped in surprise as I bounded for the door.

  “Whiskey?” Stevie’s voice paused me at the door.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll go.” I cringed, turning the handle.

  “No, it’s cool. We’re done here.”

  “What?” the girl squeaked.

  “Sorry, but I want to go have breakfast with my friend.”

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “Yep.” I heard the bed creak, like someone was moving. “Time to go.”

  “I can’t believe you,” the girl barked, sounds of movement and fabric rustling around. I was still pinned in place, staring at the door.

  “You don’t know me well enough to make that kind of assessment…” Stevie tapered off, and I knew it was because she didn’t know her name.

  Apparently, the girl picked up on it too.

  “You don’t even know my name, do you?” The girl’s voice rose several octaves. “Jesus, you’re no different from a fucking man…” The mystery woman moved behind me, and I turned around. She was dressed in a skintight dress, shoving her feet into her heels, her face twisted in anger. I recognized her from the party the night before, her naturally curly hair bouncing around her head as she grabbed her clutch bag and stormed for the door. I jumped out of her way, the door slamming brutally against the wall.

  “Bye,” Stevie called after her.

  “Fuck you!” she fumed, stomping out of the room, the door shutting behind her.

  I stepped fully into the room, my undergarments still clenched in my hand. Stevie sat on the bed, wrapped in the sheet.

  “Stevie…” I shook my head, knowing exactly why that girl was in our room. “Really?”

  “What?” She stood, acting like she didn’t understand my tone.

  “Come on.” I folded my arms, moving closer to her. “You went after her on purpose. Don’t act like you didn’t.”

  The girl in our room had been the same one Chris had his eyes on at the party.

  “Clearly ape-boy wasn’t enough for Princess Tiana.” She tucked the sheet in tighter. “She came home with me.”

  “So… is that how it’s going to be? A competition? To see if you can one-up him? Go after every girl he talks to?” I shook my head. I really wanted to smack those two, because I knew Chris would only fight back. They’d each try to outdo the other, hurting the other until they were way past salvation. That’s probably how they wanted it, then it would be safe. Their feelings protected.

  “Stevie, why can’t you admit you love him?”

  “Love?” She burst out laughing. “Oh Whiskey, you are so naive. What I feel for Chris is the furthest you can get from love.”

  Did she realize she used his real name in that denial? She may not admit it to me or even herself, but the girl was as in love with him as he was with her. It was clear partly because of how much they wanted to hurt each other. You didn’t do that for people you felt so-so about.

  I knew not to push her because she would only slink into her protected shell like a turtle.

  “How about breakfast?” I rubbed my bare foot over the other, tossing my bra and underwear onto my bag in the corner. “I’m starving.”

  “Oh. My. God!” Stevie shrieked, her mouth dropping open. “You did it! You and Hunter finally boinked!”

  “Boinked?” I waggled my head. “Who says that?”

  “I mean, I kind of figured you were together but didn’t know if you’d go all the way. You couldn’t even lie about it right now; it is obvious. Oh, my little Whiskey is all grown up.” She fanned her eyes like she was going to cry. “I’m so proud.”

  “Stop.” I glowered at her.

  “Oh, I need all the details. Especially in-depth description about that boy’s ass. How it looked naked.” She put her hand on her chest. “Damn, he has a stellar ass.”

  I chuckled, my eyes rolling at my crazy friend.

  “Shower and breakfast first.” I couldn’t fight the happiness spreading from my chest to my face as I grinned like a fool. Hunter’s ass was stellar to look at and even better to touch. Dammit, I wanted to run my hands over it now.

  What was he doing to me? My brain went from thinking about a million things to one: being alone and naked with Hunter Harris.

  Chapter Five

  The roar of bikes and music thundered throughout the arena, vibrating up my spine. Down on the floor, right next to the action, engines revved deafeningly. I poked the earplugs in deeper. The VIP pass hanging from our necks put us only feet away from the starting gate. Fans waved signs, with the number 8 or “The Haze” on them, their chants somehow rising over the ear-piercing noise.

  I bounced on my toes with excitement, searching for Hunter. I hadn’t seen or heard from him all day. I knew his schedule was insane, but I couldn’t fight the hurt I experienced when he didn’t return my texts. Stevie and I had fun checking out Denver, but I hated the feeling of waiting for his call. Even here, I didn’t feel much different from when I was back home, trying not to stare at my non-ringing phone.

  I knew it wasn’t his fault, but it didn’t take away the sick feeling. My whole world had revolved around Colton: where he went, I went, his choice of movies, food, and weekend activities. Even on our anniversary I let him lead. I hated those “romantic” dinners, but I kept quiet, being the dutiful girlfriend so I wouldn’t make waves.

  I had barely stepped away from that girl, but now I was finding it too easy to settle back into the mold of pleasing people, living through others… and worse, through the guy I was seeing.

  “He’s behind the third gate.” Jones leaned into my ear, pointing at Hunter. I nodded, spotting Hunter’s frame.

  Stevie grabbed my arm, shaking it with excitement. She loved the thrill and the palpable energy springing over the riders and fans. Chris had brought her to a couple of races when Hunter and I weren’t speaking to each other. Neither of us had been in a while, and like me, I knew she missed being here, down in the commotion, watching them ride.

  A scarcely dressed girl, who I recognized to be Joyce from the night before, walked onto the track, holding up a sign with the number 30 on it. The engines revved louder, each one preparing to take the lead. I had only been to one race, but Jones and Doug had taught me a lot, so I knew how important your performance was out of the gate. It could determine the entire race.

  I watched the clock roll down to zero, then the gates in front of the riders folded down, letting them loose. Pillows of dirt mushroomed behind the bikes as they leaped forward, tearing up the track to get in the lead.

  Hunter’s bike was cut off by the lead guy, who blew dirt behind him as he rounded the corner. The presenter’s voice screamed out, barely audible from our position.

  “He can take back the lead,” Jones said more to himself than me, his usually hazy eyes laser-focused on Hunter. Here was Manager Jones, studying every nuance of Hunter’s performance, muttering to himself like he was the commentator. Clapping and yelling at his “client.” He couldn’t hide his pride in Hunter. It made me happ
y to be part of Hunter’s world too.

  Our entire hometown knew of The Haze now, but only a few months ago, before AMA called him, the community treated him as a drugged-out loser who smoked behind the bleachers with his friends, skipping class. They all said he would follow in Doug’s path, a dropout working at the garage. When I found out the truth about Hunter, it flipped my universe. Besides his friends, I was the first he let into this circle. To see this side of him.

  “Shit!” Jones spat, frowning as Hunter’s bike was overtaken by three more riders. “What the hell is going on with him? He’s never dropped to fifth place.”

  Worry swam through my stomach, my teeth sinking into my lip. I bobbed on my toes, my hands clasped, watching his bike fly over the mounds, but he continued to be inched back by another rider, almost like they could feel a weakness in him.

  “Come on, Hunter,” I muttered to myself, anxiously observing him slip back again.

  “What the fuck?” Jones screamed, throwing out his arms. “Get your head together, man.”

  The announcer confirmed it was the last leg in this round, Hunter now in eighth place. He couldn’t come back from that.

  The leader, a guy named Jeremy who had been the champion the last two years, took first spot, the crowd going ballistic as his bike leaped over the finish line. Numbers and names were broadcasted in succession as riders crossed the line. The audience booed when The Haze was announced in eighth place.

  Jones rubbed his hat with frustration, toeing the dirt.

  “What does that mean?” Stevie eyed the board. “He’s still okay, right?”

  There wasn’t just one race, but many during the night, different lengths and styles, points given based on each race, moving you up or down the scoreboard. Not every rider was in every race.

  “His important race is later, but right now Hunter can’t afford to be off. Even for one race.” Jones stared up, blinking. “All eyes are on him; his sponsors want to know they have a sure thing, not a wild card.” Jones eyes looked right at me. “They’ll pull out the moment he starts losing if he’s not on his game. Distracted.”

  Muscles around my lungs contracted, feeling the comment stab into my chest. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

  “Fault is not the word I would use… But Jayme, he had the worst practice and has been preoccupied all day.”

  “That’s not her responsibility.” Stevie put her hands on her hips.

  “I’m not blaming her; I’m just telling the truth.” Jones waggled his head, taking a step. “I’m gonna go talk to him before his next race. Chris will be in that one too.”

  Jones didn’t wait for a response before he jogged off for the holding area where the riders waited until their race.

  “Screw that!” Stevie frowned. “This is on Hunter, not you.”

  “I know,” I replied, though I didn’t feel it connect in my heart. For more than two months Hunter had never wavered; he was in the solid top three the entire time. Yet, I show up and he drops to eighth?

  “I need a beer,” Stevie stated, glancing back at the refreshment stand. “Looks like you might need a drink too.”

  “Yeah.” I folded my arms over my V-neck navy T-shirt, staring down at my jeans and knee-high boots.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Stevie yelled over the high-pitched buzz of bikes rounding the course near us. She tore off for the beer stand.

  Absently watching the parade of dirt bikes jumping past me, my gut churned with the same fear I felt earlier. The ground felt thin and patchy, and I had no idea why. We had fought so much to get here. We were finally together. Happy.

  “So… you’re Hunter’s girlfriend?” I jerked at the sound of a woman’s voice beside me. It took me a moment to place her, but her stick-straight long black hair, her full red lips, and double-D boobs brought her back to memory. The girl from the party who openly glared at me the hardest when we first walked in.

  “Uh. Yeah.” It felt strange to hear it out loud or call myself that when not long ago my name had been linked as Colton’s girlfriend. Plus, Hunter and I hadn’t established exactly what we were to each other yet.

  She didn’t veil her disparaging scrutiny of me. “Hmmmm.”

  “Do you have a problem?” I turned fully toward her, trying to hide my insecurity. She was in her mid-twenties and held herself with an assuredness that made me feel as though I were an inch tall. She was so stunning you could forget her nails, tan, and caked-on makeup created an illusion of perfection. Not that any man would see past her toned legs, abs, and huge boobs. I couldn’t help feeling like a little church mouse compared to her.

  “No.” She smiled, more saccharine sweetness that wasn’t real. “You are adorable. A homegrown girl.”

  Adorable. That fucking word. It was like stepping back to the Doug’s house with Sunny, one of Hunter’s old “girlfriends.” They clearly enjoyed demeaning someone to make themselves feel bigger. They acted as if I were young, sweet, and naive, and they could bat me away like a fly.

  “Let me guess. You think Hunter could do better.” I ground my teeth. Like I did with Sunny, on the outside I would not show she could stomp on me, though my knees wobbled under her self-confidence.

  “Oh girl…” She shook her head like I was the biggest fool alive. Walking around me, she whispered in my ear from behind. “He already has. And still does.” She strutted past me, her hips swinging forcefully. My stomach twisted all the way up my esophagus as I watched her.

  She blew kisses at the stands, causing men to howl and cheer for her. She was most men’s fantasy. No guy would ever say no to her.

  My gaze darted back to the dirt at my feet, bile climbing up my throat, filling my soul with doubt. Had Hunter slept with her? She made it sound like a recent and continual thing.

  “Sorry, all they had was beer.” Stevie bumped my hip, handing me the drink. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look like you’re going to cry then barf all over the ground.”

  My fingers gripped the cold plastic, bringing it to my mouth, guzzling back the liquid. It tasted disgusting, my tongue revolting at the sharp tang, but I pushed on, needing to drown my abysmal feeling. I finished the liquid with a violent shake of my head. “Ackkk.”

  Stevie’s gaze burned into me, twisting me to look at her. Her brows furrowed, a skeptical look scurrying over me.

  “What?” I tossed the empty cup in the garbage near me.

  “You hate beer,” she replied. “I thought you’d sip it, then give it to me. Because not only don’t you like it, but it’s really shitty beer… You downed it like water. What the hell is going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sputtered, her arms opening. “Am I stupid? I know you, Whiskey. Don’t tell me nothing.” She tapped her foot. “‘You aren’t taking what Jones said seriously, right? Because it’s bullshit. You are not to be blamed for Hunter’s failings. That’s all him.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” she countered. “Because it doesn’t look like it to me.”

  For some reason I didn’t feel like sharing what just happened with Stevie, as if saying it out loud would make it true. Hunter said he hadn’t been with anyone recently. What did that mean anyway? What time frame were we talking here? We really weren’t together those two months he was on tour. Technically, it had only been five days since he asked me to come here. Did he mean since then? Six days ago she could have been the one in his bed.

  Jones’s showing up stopped the conversation from continuing, my focus going to him.

  “Is Hunter okay?” I asked.

  “Pissed off.” Jones rubbed his eyes. “Hopefully this next race he will get it back. Told me to say hi.”

  “Can I see him?” I needed to see his eyes, feel the sureness from his smile, that what we had was real.

  “No. Not right now. He needs to focus and pull himself together.” Jones pressed his lips together.

  Ten minutes later the gates dropped open and once again Hunter m
issed the holeshot, taking third around the corner.

  Jones’s arms went in the air, and he paced around. “Come on!”

  Anxiety sat heavily on my chest. Again, I danced on my toes, watching him fly around the dirt path. I didn’t know enough about the sport or what made it a good or bad run, but it was like Hunter’s bike was set on low speed while everyone was on supercharge. Each pass or jump of his bike seemed to bring others forward and him backward.

  “Holy shit!” Stevie screamed next to me, excitement jumping her up and down. “Go, Tarzan!”

  My attention jerked to the number fifteen as Chris’s bike soared past Hunter’s. There was a moment you could see Chris’s head turn to Hunter, as if to say, What the fuck, man? How am I passing you? But he kept on his game, sailing through the route.

  Stevie’s face glowed with her smile. Her eyes locked on him, her hands pressed to her mouth like she was holding her glee in until she knew he’d stay in the fifth spot.

  As excited as I felt for Chris, disappointment filled me as I watched Hunter struggle.

  “A shocking turn events for The Haze.” The announcer’s voice blared over the speakers. “He’s fallen to ninth, with only one lap to go. For someone who had been taking the supercross world by storm, already setting himself to be a legend… this is heartbreaking to watch.”

  My throat closed around itself, and I had to turn away, hearing the winners cross the finish line.

  “Mother—” Jones yelled, tearing off his cap and throwing it on the ground, displaying his short wavy hair. “Fuck!”

  Unlike Jones and me, Stevie was cheering and dancing around when Chris’s name was called out at fourth place.

  “I can’t believe he did it!” She reached her arms in victory. “Fourth place!”

  For a substitute rider who didn’t position above fifteenth place, this was huge. I cheered for Chris, whooping as the announcer talked about his placement, but I couldn’t deny the yucky sensation crawling over my body when Hunter’s name was called. Fifteenth place. A hard fall from first.