Back To The Start Box Set: Five Full-Length Novels

by Aly Martinez

  But how do you throw a lifeline when you yourself don’t even have a rope to hold on to? I might have been able to keep her afloat for another day, but I’d never have been able to pull her back to me.

  We merely existed on the same plane. Living under the same roof, eating meals at the same table, sleeping in the same bed. But we were far from sharing our lives together.

  “Are you coming back?” I asked, not willing to accept the truth that lingered in the air around us.

  Her deep-green eyes lifted to mine—the red rims and the dark circles doing nothing to hinder her beauty. Swallowing hard, she shifted her gaze to the mantel on the other side of the room. I knew what she was looking at, but I refused to follow her into the past.

  That might have been our biggest problem of all.

  She was still living there.

  And I refused to go back.

  “Elisabeth?” My voice softened, but the question remained the same. “Are you coming back?”

  “No,” she replied, swiping the tears from her cheeks.

  A thousand arrows fell from the sky, searing into my soul. My breath hitched, and my lungs burned. This was it—the end of my life as I knew it. But, in that moment, with her shoulders hunched forward in defeat, I realized that it was the end of hers, too.

  Why did that realization hurt more than the lifetime of loneliness that was awaiting me when the sun rose?

  I lifted a hand and rubbed my chest, hoping to ease the mounting pressure threatening to overtake me. “Don’t do this,” I mumbled through the pain.

  I wasn’t sure who I’d meant that for though.

  Was I chastising myself for having asked her to prolong the inevitable just because I wasn’t ready to lose her yet? Or was I asking her to stay in this sham of a marriage for even one day longer?

  Probably both.

  “You’ll be okay,” she assured me, pushing to her feet and gathering her bag, complete with our Yorkie, Loretta, tucked in her mesh dog carrier.

  My pulse quickened, nature’s fight-or-flight finally kicking in. But I’d been in flight mode for entirely too long. There was no fight left.

  I stepped into her path. “Elisabeth, please.” I wasn’t sure why I kept saying her name. I secretly hoped that it would snap her out of it, bringing her back to the reality of it all. But it was the reality that was killing us.

  “I’ll take off work tomorrow,” I pleaded. “We can talk. Figure things out.”

  It was selfish. Completely and utterly selfish. But that was nothing new for me.

  Her chin quivered as a steady stream of tears fell from her eyes. “Promise me something, Roman.”

  I would have promised her the entire fucking universe if it had made her stay one night longer. But who was I kidding?

  We were over.

  We both knew it.

  “Anything,” I whispered, reaching down to take her hand, desperate for the connection I didn’t deserve.

  “Remember to live.” Her voice caught, and a silent sob tore through her.

  Cupping the back of her head, I pulled her into my chest.

  “I can fix this,” I swore, but it was yet another lie. “We just need time.”

  Her shoulders shook as she cried in my arms. “We…we promised. We told him we’d live for him.”

  I closed my lids and clung to her tighter.

  We were supposed to be fighting and screaming. That was what soon-to-be-divorced couples did. But that wasn’t us. We didn’t hate each other. Elisabeth was my soul mate on every level.

  And she was paying the price for that.

  Minutes later, the tears stopped and she backed out of my arms. I fought the urge to regain my hold, forcing her to stay. But her sad resolve as she hurried to the mantel and then to the door made it clear it’d be a wasted effort.

  Never in a million years had I thought I’d be standing there, watching her walk away.

  But, then again, I’d never expected her to have the urn of our only child cradled in her arm, either. A reminder of just how much I hadn’t been able to give her. How much I’d never be able to give her.

  My past, present, and future were walking out of my life, and I stood immobile as every fiber in my being screamed for me to drop to my knees and beg her to stay.

  To take her in my arms and tell her that we’d figure it out.

  To reclaim my life once and for all.

  But how would that have helped her?

  Staying wouldn’t magically bring back her smile. Nor would it make her look at me with those bright-green eyes that made me feel as though I could conquer the world.

  It wouldn’t give me back the crazy woman who argued with her whole heart and loved with her entire soul. No. Those days were gone.

  I’d lost that woman somewhere in the bitterness between grief and blame.

  We’d been happy once.

  But we’d gotten greedy and tried to start a family.

  That was her future. Not mine. Regardless how desperately I longed to give it to her…and then selfishly take it for myself.

  Sex. That’s how babies are made. Children as young as elementary school are taught the simple biological facts of reproduction.

  But what they never tell you is that, for one in six couples, having a baby goes a little differently.

  For Elisabeth and me, it looked more like this:

  Thirty-six months of crushing disappointment.

  Three miscarriages.

  Hundreds of tests our insurance company refused to cover because the inability to reproduce was not considered a health condition.

  Countless tears.

  Helplessness.

  Failure.

  Failure.

  Failure.

  Her broken heart.

  My empty chest.

  Thirty-seven thousand dollars we didn’t have.

  In vitro fertilization.

  A sperm donor.

  A handful of hope.

  A positive pregnancy test.

  Five months of utter bliss.

  Earth-shattering devastation.

  A funeral for a child I would never get to see grow up.

  A job that became my only reprieve from reality.

  And now…losing the only woman I would ever love.

  I’d always been amazed by how much punishment a heart could take. I was broken, battered, and destroyed. And yet, much to my dismay, as I watched the front door close behind her, my heart kept beating.

  Chapter One

  Elisabeth

  Two years later…

  “Where are you taking me?” I laughed as Jon blindly guided me through the empty house.

  His tall body pressed against my back while his callused hand covered my eyes.

  “Promise me you won’t freak,” he said cautiously.

  My body stiffened. “What did you do?” I fought against his grip, no longer willing to play his game.

  He squeezed my hip to keep me in place then muttered, “Chill. And promise me.”

  “I will make no such promises. If you have to tell me not to freak, chances are I’m going to flip.”

  He chuckled. “You totally are.”

  I nudged an elbow back into his ribs. “This is not funny.”

  A grunt left his mouth, but it was followed by more laughter, which made it known that he disagreed.

  Even with my objections, he continued to lead me through the carpeted rooms until my high heels clicked against tile.

  “Okay.” He paused. “It’s not a big deal. So no more elbows. I can’t hazard a broken rib. I’ve got work to do today.”

  I huffed, unwilling to agree for fear of making him a promise I couldn’t keep. “Just get it over with already.”

  “Exactly what every man wants to hear,” he teased and then dropped his hand.

  I gasped, covering my mouth as I spun in a circle, taking in the newly renovated bathroom. “Oh my God. You…you did this?” I asked, moving toward the double vanity. “You did this?” I gli
ded my fingertips over the smooth edge of the brand-new marble countertop.

  He shoved his large hands into the pockets of his dirty jeans and shrugged. “You were never going to sell it with laminate countertops, Liz.”

  My mouth fell open when I saw the dual heads in the new shower, where a linen closet had been not even a week ago. “And a new shower?” I breathed, opening the door and stepping inside.

  He smiled, leaning his shoulder against the wall and crossing his work boots at the ankle. “And a new shower,” he confirmed.

  I did a three-sixty and shrank when I saw the custom tile work I knew for certain he’d done with his own hands. “I…I can’t pay you for this.”

  His deep-brown eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask you to.”

  “Jon,” I murmured as I caught sight of the new molding butting up against the resurfaced ceiling.

  His eyes followed mine. “Ah…I may have gotten carried away. But you know I can’t half-ass a job. It’s the eleventh commandment.”

  I shook my head, relief filling my chest at the same time guilt took up root in my stomach.

  I’d been trying to sell that house for nearly six months, and with every passing week, it was costing me more and more to carry. I was barely keeping my books in the black as it was.

  While my meager commissions as a realtor paid my monthly bills, they weren’t enough to cover this place. If I wanted to continue flipping houses, I needed to get out from under it as quickly as possible. I’d dumped my life savings into that four-thousand-square-foot skeleton. And then, when that had run out, I’d taken out a loan from the bank and maxed out all of my credit cards.

  It still wasn’t enough.

  I’d vastly underestimated how much it would cost to get that old Victorian back to something inhabitable—much less desirable.

  As it stood, if I could get it sold, I’d be able to recoup my investments and possibly walk away with a few grand in my pocket to show for my hard work.

  But, as appealing as the profits were, that wasn’t why I loved spending my evenings covered in dust, working on whatever project I’d gotten in my head the day before. There was something about watching that house come alive around me that gave me a satisfaction I hadn’t felt in years.

  But, like most things in my life, I’d taken on too much too quickly.

  I did the very best I could on my own, but I was only one person. As I’d learned from the fiasco while removing the fiberglass insulation, I wasn’t necessarily qualified in all areas. Luckily, a friend of mine had put me in touch with Jon Hartley when I’d told her that I needed a contractor. He was a godsend who’d agreed to cut me a deal as long as he could work after five every night.

  We’d quickly become friends, and his hourly wage had soon converted to beer and home-cooked meals.

  He was fresh from a divorce and using any excuse to keep from going home to an empty house.

  I understood him all too well. I was two years out and using one empty house to avoid another.

  Jon and I had spent many nights in that old house together. But, in all of our time together, never once had any lines been crossed.

  However, looking around at what had to be at least a ten-thousand-dollar bathroom renovation, I was starting to worry Jon’s lines of friendship were slightly different than mine.

  “Say something,” he urged, walking over and then stopping directly in front of me. He wasn’t touching me, but there was a certain intimacy at his proximity.

  I sucked in a deep breath and swayed away in order to crane my head back. “This is too much. What the hell were you thinking?” I whispered.

  “Honestly?” he asked softly. The corners of his mouth tipped up in a half smile that should have melted me. There was no denying that he was a good-looking man. But…he was Jon.

  I bit my lip, praying for lies. I didn’t want honesty. Not from him. Not about this.

  “Jon,” I breathed.

  His hand found my hip and gave it a tight squeeze. “I was hoping that, if you sold this place, I could finally get some sleep.”

  I smiled, exhaling on a rush. But, when his eyes landed on my mouth, I felt no relief.

  His other hand came up to my face, his thumb trailing back and forth across my cheek as he held my gaze. “And I was hoping, if you sold this place, you’d finally let me take you out and spend some time with you that doesn’t require power tools.”

  I swallowed hard. Shit. Damn.

  “You did this so you could ask me out?” I nervously toyed with my skirt. “That’s an expensive bouquet of flowers.”

  He grinned. “You need out of this place, Elisabeth. And I’m not just talking the financials.” Dipping his head forward, he brushed his nose with mine. “You’re hiding.”

  “So are you,” I countered, but my voice was weak.

  “I was in the beginning. But, now, I only come back because of you.” His lips swept mine, but I didn’t reciprocate.

  I wanted to though. Or, more accurately, I wanted to want to.

  Jon was a good man. He’d slowly become my best friend over the last six months. And isn’t that the foundation of a strong relationship? God knows that’s not how it had been with Roman. And look where that had gotten us.

  With Roman, he’d proposed approximately five hours into our first date. I laughed and told him he was insane. But those silver-blue eyes and that wicked grin made me breathless for the first time in my life. Our relationship was based on an overwhelming desire and an unexplainable need for one another.

  It had been nearly two years since we’d last spoken, and I still felt the invisible strings binding us together. I couldn’t explain my pull to that man any more than I could explain why I didn’t feel it with Jon.

  But maybe this was exactly what I needed. Something new and fresh but without the risk of the all-consuming kind of love I’d felt for Roman.

  It didn’t have to be like that with Jon. Hell, it had taken him months to even ask me out.

  This was different.

  Different could be good.

  I needed different.

  “Okay,” I murmured, opening my lids with a newfound resolve.

  “Okay?” A mixture of relief and hope danced in his gaze.

  “Okay, I won’t freak out about the bathroom.” I paused and shyly glanced to the side. “And okay, I’ll let you take me out.”

  A wide, white smile split his mouth. “Okay, then.”

  I abruptly stepped away from him and lifted a single finger in the air. “But! I’m paying you back for this.”

  “I don’t want your money. I was trying to do—”

  “No arguments. When I sell the house, I’m paying you back. I hope you kept receipts.”

  He smirked. “I thought you said you weren’t going to freak out?”

  “Yeah, well, I changed my mind. And you better agree to my caveat before I change my mind about you taking me to dinner at Harper’s, too.”

  His tipped his head, his lips twitching as he asked, “Harper’s?”

  I motioned a hand around the bathroom. “You can’t ask a girl out with a ten-thousand-dollar bathroom and not expect to take her to a fancy restaurant for dinner. That would be false advertising. You’ve set the bar. Now, let’s hope you live up to it.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Harper’s it is, then. And it wasn’t ten grand, but I’ll let you pay me back for the materials only.” He pointed over my shoulder. “Except for the shower. That’s my gift to you.”

  I smiled and extended a hand in his direction. “Deal.”

  He stared at my hand for several seconds before clapping it and giving it a hard tug, dragging me in for a hug.

  It was nice. His arms wrapped around me, securing me against his hard body as he stroked up and down my back.

  So nice that I momentarily lamented the fact that I felt absolutely nothing in return.

  * * *

  It was just past seven when I got home from the old Victorian. Jon and I had stayed wor
king on the guest bathroom that now looked like a hellhole compared to the master. Jesus, I couldn’t believe he’d pulled that renovation off while I’d been out of town. I also couldn’t believe I’d agreed to go on a date with him.

  Shaking my head at myself, I tossed my keys in the basket and shut the front door. Loretta came barreling into the room as fast as her tiny legs would carry her.

  “Hey, crazy girl,” I cooed, bending down to give her the attention she demanded. It was rare that I went to the other house without her, but we’d just gotten back from a trip to Virginia to see my parents. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. After an eight-hour car ride, we both needed a little space.” I smoothed the short, gray hairs on the top of her head down.

  She licked my face then wiggled from my arms. I put her back on the floor, and she immediately pranced to the back door, watching me over her shoulder the whole way.

  “All right. All right. Go play,” I said, sliding the back door open.

  She’d missed her freedom while we’d been staying at my parents’ place. It backed up to a lake, and I was terrified she’d get busy chasing one of the ducks, fall in, and drown. Poor pooch hadn’t gotten a single minute off the leash over the last week.

  After closing the back door, I began sifting through the stack of mail.

  Bill. Bill. Bill. Advertisement. Chain letter?

  I knew this because it had the words chain letter in handwritten block letters on the back of the envelope.

  I smiled to myself as I ripped it open.

  Dear Elisabeth,

  I don’t normally believe in things like this, but it’s true! You must call your sister within the next thirty minutes or you will experience seven years of bad luck. Nancy Smith received this letter and she simply threw it away. The very next day, her hymen grew back, her cat ran away, and she slipped and fell in her bathroom.

  Don’t be like Nancy. Call your sister.

  <3 Kristen

  I didn’t have a sister. And sure as hell not one as crazy as Kristen. But for the five years Roman and I had been married, I’d had her as a sister-in-law. I was an only child with parents who lived over five hundred miles away, Roman’s family had become my own. His parents had been amazing, welcoming me into their lives with open arms. Never once had I felt like anything but their blood. But I’d lost them all the day I’d walked away from him.