Unbreak Me

by Michelle Hazen

  Andra beckoned him closer. He shook his head slowly, his eyes smiling even as he dropped a knee onto her bed and eased down next to her. His hand cupped her shoulder and stroked down her side. Past the dip of her waist and the flare of her hip, that gnawing tension at the center of her winding tighter as his hand passed by all too far away.

  “Don’t pinch me,” he said.

  Now it was her turn to shake her head, jostling her foggy brain to try to decode his words. “What?”

  His palm stopped at her knee and rose again, spreading warmth over her skin as it circled around to cup her bare bottom. “If this is a dirty dream I’m having about you . . .” He grinned. “Forgive me, but I don’t want to wake up.”

  “I might want to have it more than one night, though.” She scooted closer until his cock rested exactly against the part of her that needed friction the most. She let out a small sigh. “Can you make that happen?”

  “Going to town tomorrow to fill the whole pickup with sleeping pills,” he vowed. “We can dream straight through till Christmas.”

  She tipped her hips forward a little, her nipples kissing his chest as she leaned in, swimming in the scent of him. Today, it was fresh-baked bread and green pasture grass. The aching between her legs was only getting worse. She’d wanted to hold him, kiss him, and now she wasn’t sure that would be enough. She rocked against him once more, and LJ groaned. He gripped her ass, sending tingles all the way up to her scalp, and then he thrust against her.

  “Oh God,” she gasped, parting her legs and hooking one around the back of his. He shifted, nuzzling himself in more firmly against her swollen clit and bucking his hips in small, sharp movements that had her eyes rolling back under fluttering lids.

  She hadn’t thought she’d ever want to have sex again. Her mind shied away from the idea whenever she considered it, but having him right here, his dick hard and ready . . . she couldn’t think about anything but how good it would feel to clasp it inside of her. To let him rub over every too-sensitive nerve ending that was begging to be touched right now. She huddled into his chest, gasping against the heat of his skin.

  “Does that feel good, sweetheart?” he murmured against her hair, rocking more gently now in a way that teased her with knowing how forceful he could be, and exactly how much she wanted him to be.

  She nodded so fast her head clipped his chin, and he laughed. His hand slid from her bottom down the back of her leg, dipping a little closer to the center of her.

  “I can make it feel better,” he whispered. “If you want me to.”

  She meant to answer, but the sound came out as a whimper. She strained toward his fingers. It was impossible to feel self-conscious when she was being pulled apart with wanting a million things she didn’t have. One thing.

  His fingertips found where she was slick and wet. She gulped air, and he drew her closer into his chest and touched her. One finger, sliding over wet skin and then up higher, opening her until his cock could sit right against her clit. Her leg muscles clenched and her toes curled, and she bit down on nothing, her teeth grinding together.

  “LJ, oh God, I need to—” She pressed against him again, but it was sharp and too sensitive and she was so empty, her muscles squeezing inside as if they were waiting for him.

  She pushed him away and he let her go immediately, his head coming up as she scrabbled across the bed to the nightstand. She yanked the drawer out, grabbing a box that Stacia had stuffed into her shopping bag the day they’d bought her new clothes. She dropped it twice trying to get a condom out, and then LJ took it from her, ducking his head to see her eyes.

  “Andra, girl, are you sure about this?”

  “I need you,” she gasped. “God, I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this, and I can’t even think, and I need you right now.”

  His eyes darkened nearly to black, and he kissed her so hard she tipped over onto her back. He followed her down, his lips ravishing hers in a way that let her know he’d been holding back before. Way, way back.

  Distantly, she heard the rip of foil, and then his hands spread her thighs open. She whimpered, curling toward his hands to steal a little more of his delicious warmth, that crazy, amazing feeling only he could give her. The blunt head of his cock nudged her, and he stopped kissing her for half a second, then his tongue delved deep. She moaned into his mouth as he took his dick in one hand, circling her entrance in the most maddening of teases as he wet the condom he wore.

  He gasped something, and she gripped the base of his neck, pulling him back to her mouth. He groaned and pushed into her. She was so wet, and the tip slipped right in, but then he was too thick, and pain jolted when her body tried to stretch to fit him.

  Pain. The battering of a pubic bone grinding against her own, every impact like a punch as a dick scraped raw and dry inside of her. Blink. The dusty ceiling of Gavin’s room and that one thread of a spiderweb hanging in the corner, taunting her, because she wasn’t free to stand up and knock it down.

  Andra opened her mouth to scream, and every tendon inside her locked, the air in her lungs hardening into stone in an instant.

  Nineteen

  Andra’s vision flashed between her ceiling and the web-strewn ceiling of a rental house far away. She couldn’t leave this place. Couldn’t move, could never leave. Fingernails raked down the insides of her lungs, ripping delicate tissue and leaving fire in their wake. On top of her, LJ froze.

  Her eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, but in her peripheral vision, she saw his head lift as if to see her expression. As soon as he did, he pulled out. “Andra. Andie-girl, stay with me, now.”

  His hands cupped her face, and they were every bit as warm as they had been seconds ago, but nothing could touch her now. Terror roared through her, and her body revolted. Every beat of her heart stretched it to bursting, and it couldn’t hold out.

  “Look at me,” LJ demanded, tilting her face away from the ceiling and toward his face. Brown eyes waited for her, held hers. “You’re all right,” he promised. “I am never going to hurt you, girl. Not ever.”

  She believed him. She knew she was in her cottage now, not that old rented house where Gavin had chained her down like an animal. But it didn’t change anything, because her body was broken, and it was suffocating her. LJ was going to watch her die.

  She could still feel the cuffs on her wrists, the burn of worn flesh against uncaring metal. She couldn’t get away. Couldn’t breathe. Her vision started to gray around the edges, and Andra knew it was about to happen.

  She couldn’t die here.

  She exploded off the bed, hitting the floor. Her chin burned where it scraped the carpet, but she didn’t care. She flung herself across the room and landed in a heap at the base of the window. She watched her hands clawing at the windowsill before she remembered the latch was up higher.

  “Andra, what are you doing? Where are you going? I’m leaving,” he said, his voice receding. “I’m all the way out in the hallway now, okay? You don’t have to run from me. I’m going.”

  Her arm was so heavy, but she couldn’t die here. Couldn’t make him watch. She shoved her arm up high enough to get the latch, pushing it open and then throwing the window up.

  Air poured in, and her hands gripped the sill. She was free. She was out. She choked down one breath, then two. Outside, it was twilight, wind riffling through the open grass. There was no pavement. No street. No silent doors waiting in judgment of her. She sagged, her forehead hitting the cool paint of the sill.

  “LJ,” she tried to say. She had to wet her lips and swallow, her throat sandpaper dry, before she could try again. “LJ.”

  The yarn that settled over her back was thick and soft. It must be the blanket his mother had made and mailed to her. The way it curled around her reminded her of the cardigan the old woman had hung on her shoulders that day.

  LJ tucked the blanket more securely
around her, his hands never touching her skin. She turned, her limbs so heavy that even that small movement was an effort.

  “Okay now?” His voice was quiet, but his eyes echoed with hurt. She lifted a hand to his face, and he flinched away.

  “LJ . . .”

  “Why?” he demanded. “Why’d you tell me you wanted me if you were scared?”

  She let her hand drop. “I wasn’t.” She needed water if she was going to talk. Water and about three days of sleep.

  “What did I do wrong, then?” His voice almost broke, and tears rose to sting at the edges of her lashes. “Too fast? Too rough?”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t you.”

  “It was me.”

  LJ jerked to his feet, grabbing his boxer briefs and hauling them on.

  “It is me, Andra.” He whipped on his jeans. “It’s me doing that to you, every f—” His jaw flexed. “Every time, it’s been me who left you cowering on the floor, and I don’t know how to be any different. I . . .” He stopped with his shirt hanging from his hands. “I don’t know how to hide how much I want you.”

  “I want you, too,” she whispered, her fingers tightening on the edges of the blanket.

  “No,” he said. “You don’t.”

  He pulled on his shirt, staring at the floor. Her shoulders shrank, the chill in her skin creeping down into her chest.

  “LJ, I told you, the attacks have nothing to do with you.” She shook her head. “They just happen and I’m sorry, but I can’t stop them. I thought you understood that.”

  He crammed buttons into holes so fast that threads popped audibly. “I’m not dumb enough to think that happens to you when you’re out working the horses or shopping with Stacia.” He shrugged to straighten the shirt on his shoulders and stomped into his boots. When he looked up at her, his eyes were like two holes punched into the dirt. “It keeps happening because I scare you. Because something I do reminds you of him. I’m not going to keep doing that to you, Andra.” He headed for the door.

  She leaped to follow him, leaving the blanket in a pile below the window. Adrenaline pushed all the fatigue out of her limbs as she sprinted across the room and caught his shoulder before he crossed into the living room. “LJ, don’t.” She pulled until he turned to face her. “I don’t know what else to say to make you believe me, but you have to. All I wanted was to be close to you. I screwed it up, and I didn’t have a single choice in the matter, okay? Are you seriously going to make it worse by walking out on me right now?” She dropped her hand, hugging her arms over her chest. She wished she wouldn’t have left the blanket behind.

  LJ shook his head. “You didn’t screw it up. I did.”

  “That’s what I keep telling you!” She shoved him, somehow gratified when he fell back a step. “You said there were no expectations between us. You said whatever we wanted, we could try, no problem. Was all that bullshit? Because I didn’t lie to you, LJ. I freaking told you I didn’t think I’d ever want to have sex again, and suddenly I did, and I would be so happy about that right now if I hadn’t ruined it by acting like a total freak.”

  His eyes darkened. “You’re not a freak.”

  She snapped a hand out at his clothes. “Right. You’re just leaving because you remembered you left the stove on, right?”

  He gritted his teeth, then he dropped his head and blew out a breath. “Shit.”

  He reached for her and folded her into his arms. The goose bumps from cold faded away from her skin, but she still stood a little stiffly, not sure whether they were done fighting.

  “I’m sorry. I feel bad, and then I don’t always say the right thing . . . I just . . .” He kissed the top of her head, like it might make up for the words he never finished, but she was already tensed against them.

  “You just what?”

  “Do you think you’ll ever stop feeling him?” he whispered. “When I touch you? Because I want to make you feel good, but knowing that any second, it might remind you of something terrible . . . it makes me want to cut off my own hands.”

  Andra closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, sweet girl. Please don’t.”

  She hugged him tighter, but somehow it didn’t help at all. Her house was so quiet it suffocated any word she might have offered. There was nothing to say anyway. Nothing but lies or a truth that would have him heading for the door all over again.

  He kissed her forehead. “I have to go.”

  She blinked rapidly and stepped back. “Yeah, okay.” She kept her voice steady, turning to get her clothes so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes before she could fight them back.

  He caught her from behind and hugged her again, warmth bleeding through his clothes. “Not like that, Andie-girl. I’m nasty company right now—that’s all. Why don’t you come down for breakfast? We’ll talk, and I’ll load you up on French toast and grits.”

  She touched his arms where they were wrapped over her chest. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” He let her go, but there was no creak of footsteps announcing his exit.

  She didn’t turn around. She didn’t have anything left, not tonight.

  Finally, the floorboards creaked. Hesitant and slow. Out of her room and through the living room. The front door opened and paused again. When it closed behind him, she thought she’d be relieved.

  She wasn’t.

  Twenty

  LJ cracked an egg into the bowl with one hand, whisking with the other until the eggs frothed. He dropped the shell into the trash and poured just a hint of cream in with the eggs, then a droplet of vanilla extract and a scattering of cinnamon. After a pause, he added more vanilla, because he was pretty sure Andra would like it that way.

  His eyes were grainy with fatigue, and he hoped Andra had slept better than he had. He wished there were a way he could have stayed last night, just to be certain she was okay. But that was the whole problem: if he was there, she was worse, not better. She probably never had panic attacks when she was alone. He stared down into the eggs, his jaw aching before he realized he was grinding his teeth.

  He straightened and reached for the bread. Food. It was the one pure way he could care for her. The one thing he was sure not to fuck up.

  The clock on the microwave informed him it was still too early to expect her. Way too early to worry she wouldn’t come. He took out a box of cornflakes, then a bag of oatmeal, and hesitated. Mama traded off which one she used to coat her French toast, but right now he couldn’t think of which Andra might like best. Hearty and savory or light and crisp.

  He checked the clock again, but it was still too early. Not so early in New Orleans, though, and talking to his mother might keep him from going flat crazy while he waited to see how Andra was this morning. If she was nervous about seeing him, too. Or if she was maybe angry with him, even though she’d said she wasn’t last night. She’d chased after him when he’d first started to leave. That had to be a good sign. Or at least not a bad sign.

  He snatched up the phone and dialed. Mama would love it if he called to ask her opinion about French toast, anyway. Except instead of a ring, a recorded message kicked on, informing him that the number was out of service. What? He checked his screen, but that was definitely her number.

  He’d been sending half his paycheck home every two weeks. That should have been more than enough to cover the phone bill. He paced across the kitchen, wiping down already clean counters as he shot glances at his phone. With him this far away, Mama would turn off the water before she’d let the phone lapse. There had to be some kind of emergency. Something wrong with the house, or maybe her job.

  He dropped the rag and dialed the restaurant where Mama worked. Hedda picked up, rattling off her standard greeting even though it wasn’t business hours yet.

  “Hi, Hedda. It’s LJ.”

  “LJ, baby!” she squealed. “How�
��s your new job? They feeding you okay up there? Can you even get grits that far north?”

  “Mostly just instant,” he admitted. “Hey, is Mama around? I had a question for her.”

  There was a pause, and he checked the screen to be sure the call hadn’t dropped.

  “Baby, you know your mama’s out on leave, don’t you?” Hedda asked slowly. “I figured you set some help up for her, because she said she didn’t need me to stop by, bring any food or anything.”

  “How long?” He gripped the edge of the counter.

  “A week, maybe two. Let me check the calendar.” A pan clanged, and then pages rustled. “Last Tuesday was the last time she came in. LJ, haven’t you talked to her? I can send Antoine over there before we open if you’re worried.”

  “Can you? And have him call me when he gets there. She must have, uh, turned her ringer off or something.” If he told Hedda the account was turned off, she’d take money out of the register to pay it herself. The IRS had fined her nearly out of existence on that last audit, because she took money out whenever her friends needed it and usually didn’t remember to add it back in when she did her taxes. “I’m coming home. Have Antoine tell Mama I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  He threw the eggs down the garbage disposal just as a knock came at his door.

  Andra.

  Fuck.

  He shot out into the living room and wrenched the door open. She stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, and his head was so messed up, he couldn’t even decipher the look on her face. She’d come after all. She wasn’t so mad that she didn’t show up.

  Five minutes ago, that would have made him happy enough to sing, but right now he could barely see straight. He let her in and dashed back to the bedroom with the dawn light streaking across the floor. “I’m sorry the food isn’t ready. There’s bread for toast, though, and leftover pot roast in the fridge. It’s no kind of breakfast, I know, but it’ll get you started, anyway.” He pulled a suitcase off the top shelf of his closet in an avalanche of other stuff, then opened a drawer in his dresser and grabbed everything in it.