by Gina Azzi
Rescuing Broken
The Kane Brothers
Gina Azzi
Contents
Disclaimer
1. Evie
2. Jax
3. Evie
4. Jax
5. Evie
6. Jax
7. Evie
8. Evie
9. Jax
10. Evie
11. Jax
12. Evie
13. Jax
14. Evie
15. Jax
16. Evie
17. Jax
18. Evie
19. Jax
20. Evie
21. Jax
22. Evie
23. Jax
24. Evie
25. Jax
26. Evie
27. Jax
28. Evie
29. Jax
30. Evie
31. Jax
32. Evie
33. Jax
Two Months Later
34. Evie
Two Months Later
Epilogue
Thank You!
Recovering Beauty
Recovering Beauty
Acknowledgments
More Books by Gina Azzi
About the Author
Sexual Assault & PTSD Resources
Disclaimer
Disclaimer: Rescuing Broken is a sweet, second-chance, military romance that includes sensitive issues regarding sexual harassment and assault and PTSD. It is intended for mature audiences.
Rescuing Broken
Copyright © 2018 by Gina Azzi
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All rights reserved.
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No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Cover Design by: Regina Wamba of MaeIDesign.com
1
Evie
“I’m hurrying,” I grumble to my ringing cell phone as I dash into my townhouse, kicking the door shut behind me. Turning around, I flip the locks and reach into my purse, searching for my cell. Of course, my fingers connect with the phone just as the ringing ceases.
“Shit.” I already know I’m going to be late. I should probably cancel. I don’t even feel like going out tonight.
The shrill ringing cuts the air again and I sigh. Dropping my purse on the console in the hallway, I head into my living room, collapsing onto the couch.
“Jenny,” I answer, curling my feet up below me and resting my head back on the cushions. My eyes shut. “I’m not sure about tonight. I’m really not up for it and I’ve—”
“Save it. I don’t care. You’re coming. Miranda and I haven’t seen you in forever, and I really need a night out. You owe me.”
I smile in response to her tenacity, but refuse to give in that easily. “I don’t know. It’s been a really long—”
“Day, week, month for all of us, which is why we need to grab a drink. I know you’re probably pouting on your couch at the moment, trying to think of an excuse to ditch us again, but I’m not having it. Get your butt up, hop in the shower, pull on a pair of jeans and a sexy halter, and maybe, just maybe, if you cut the resting bitch face and smile a little, you’ll even get laid tonight.”
I manage to choke out a chuckle while a shudder runs down my spine, my eyes snapping open. “With a guy I meet at Raf’s? Come on. We’re lucky we don’t contract STDs just from entering the place.”
Jenny laughs, a girlish giggle she’s had since high school. “Or needing a Tetanus shot from the hazardous bar.”
I join in her laughter now, forcing myself to stand up. “Fine. I’ll meet you girls there in an hour.”
“We’ll be sitting at the bar.”
“Duh.”
“There will be a Cosmo with your name on it so don’t be late.”
“No. Lenny makes the worst Cosmos ever. Just order a whisky sour or a gin and tonic, or something he can’t mess up.”
“A shot then. He should be able to handle that.”
“See you there.” Ending the call, I walk into my bathroom and toss my cell on the vanity.
Pinning up my hair since I know I won’t have enough time to dry it, I take a quick shower and towel off in front of the mirror. Taking a moment to study myself, I note how my shoulders curve inward, as if they’re trying to kiss. I can count my ribs, my boobs are nonexistent, and my arms hang awkwardly at my sides. Dark smudges from too many sleepless nights glare from underneath my eyes, exaggerated by the paleness of my skin. I look sallow, dejected, and exhausted.
I look like me.
Fifty-four minutes after confirming I am, in fact, the most undesirable human on the planet, I slide onto a bar stool at Raf’s Bar and Grill and hesitantly accept the shot of tequila and lime chaser Miranda pushes in front of me.
“You look like shit,” she greets me matter-of-factly as Jenny comes up to stand beside me, throwing an arm around my shoulders in a half-hug.
“Bad day?” Jenny asks gently.
I wave to a girl I used to work with who is sitting across the bar at a high-top table. She left Morris last year to go to graduate school and do something with her life.
Turning toward my friends, I smile it off. “Nah, just the usual run-in with a couple of tough guys at work. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“The same guys that have been giving you trouble?” A frown twists Jenny’s lips as she peers down at me.
I shrug.
“That’s bullshit.” Miranda shakes her head. “You work at a physical therapy center for the goddamn military. You think they’d be able to control their own with all their talk of discipline and service and blah, blah, blah.”
“It’s not that simple,” I say, my voice quiet. I focus on my hands.
“It is,” Miranda counters, nodding as if to agree with herself. “You need to tell someone, Evie. Tell your boss or superior or commanding lieutenant or whatever the guy is called. Tell him you’re being harassed. We saw it that day in the parking lot. They were awful!”
“Miranda’s right.” Jenny squeezes my shoulder. “We’re just worried about you. You’ve been avoiding us.”
“I’ve been busy.”
Miranda’s eyes widen.
“I have been.” I sit straighter on the bar stool, defensive to the core. I wish they never saw what happened in the parking lot two weeks ago.
“I know,” Jenny soothes. “We just miss you and want you to be happy, Evie. That’s all. You need to tell someone about what’s been going on. It isn’t right.”
“I know. Thank you, guys. Look, I just, tonight, I just want to catch up with my best girlfriends and relax and have a good time, okay?” I gesture toward Lenny, who is walking toward us, a tray of shot glasses and mixed drinks balanced on his open palm. “Look, Lenny’s bringing more shots.”
Miranda’s eyes brighten as Jenny nods. “Absolutely. We can definitely do that.”
“Thank God.” I smile at Lenny, accepting the gin and tonic he hands me and passing my shot glass off to Miranda.
“You’re not going to have this?”
“It’s all you, girl.” I raise my gin and tonic in her direction. “Ch
eers, ladies!”
“To forgetting all the stupid things I do tonight.” Jenny raises her shot.
“And forgetting whoever I do stupid things with,” Miranda adds, a snort of laughter erupting from her nose as she clinks her shot against Jenny’s.
I laugh along with them, taking a small sip of my G and T.
I wish it were that easy to forget.
I wish I could throw back a shot, dance in a crowd, and give myself just one moment to turn off my mind. Enjoy a night out with my girlfriends.
I wish a lot of things.
“I love this song,” Jenny squeals, pulling Miranda off her barstool and swaying with her just to the left of where I sit.
“Dance with us.” Miranda tries to pull my hand, but I shake my head, taking another tentative sip of my drink.
“I’m good. You girls are crazy.” I sing along with the lyrics, trying to get into the good time mood. Trying.
“How’ve you been, Evie?” Lenny asks from across the bar, a welcome distraction from trying to fake having a good time with my friends.
“Same old, Lenny. What’s going on by you?”
“Not too much. Kep’s giving me more hours here, which is really helping. I’m hoping in another month or two, I’ll be able to quit my job at the mini-mart and bartend here full time.”
“No kidding? That’s great, Len.”
“I know. Then I can enroll back in school. I’ve only got one semester left ’til my BA, you know?”
I nod. I do know. I know because Lenny has always been focused on the future, even in high school. Even when things didn’t work out the way he planned after graduation, he remained determined to get his college degree, to do more with his life than anyone else in his family.
I offer a smile because I’m proud of him, even as the reminder that I’ve yet to finish my own degree flashes through my mind. Taking courses on and off, in-person and online, has stretched my typical four-year degree into nearly eight years. If I take summer courses, I can complete my B.A. by July but then what? I’m studying Psychology. Who the hell would want me rooting around in their head?
Coming from a long line of accomplished, successful, determined soldiers, my family is all military. And I’m all sorts of disappointment.
“I hope it works out, Len.”
“Thanks, Evie. You need anything?”
“Just water when you get a chance.”
“You got it.” He pulls a glass out from underneath the bar and fills it with water, setting it in front of me.
Once he’s called away from the opposite side of the bar, I shift my focus back to my friends. Grinding against each other, giggling, throwing back their heads, they attract the attention of nearly every guy in Raf’s.
I nurse my water and check my watch.
How long do I have to stay until it’s acceptable to slip away? Closing my eyes, I think of my comfortable couch, the soft sleep pants I wear at night, and the oversized mug I like to drink my tea from.
Gah!
One night out won’t kill me.
Plastering a bright smile on my face, I bop my head in beat with the music. I can do this. I’ll be fine.
2
Jax
"Man, come on. You can't sit around all day and just play... hold up, is this War Cry? When did it release?" Denver drops onto the couch next to me, picking up a controller. "After this round, add me. I want in." He settles back against the lumpy cushions.
"All right," I agree, emptying my clip into an enemy and waiting for my kill count to increase. Once I've secured the area, I pause the game, saving my progress, and navigate back to the main menu, so I can play against my brother.
"You know, for someone who's been in a real war, you think you'd get tired of this shit," he mutters, scrolling through battlefield options before selecting a jungle in Vietnam.
Our setting and players load and the TV screen morphs into a war zone.
Reality shifts as memories and forgotten moments suddenly flood my mind.
A blur of onscreen bullets transports me to overwhelming heat and loud noises. Fear swells in my gut, eating at my stomach like acid, as I try to dodge real enemy fire. Ethan flickers before me, his blood seeping hot and angry from his chest and I open my mouth to call out just as Den curses beside me. Jumping in my seat at his voice, I swallow back the dread creeping up my throat and try to quiet my breathing. Ignoring Denver’s concerned look, I shake my head to warn off his questions as onscreen me tosses a grenade.
We’ve only been playing a few minutes when Carter bounds through the door and presses power on the game console, ending our play and blacking out the television screen.
"What the fuck?" Denver tosses the controller onto the coffee table in front of us.
"Get up." Carter orders, kicking my feet off the coffee table and leveling Denver with a glare. "You've been home over a week." He turns his gaze back to me. "You can't just sit around all day and pretend to shoot fake people. You gotta get out and see your friends and act, I don't know, normal. This mopey shit is getting old.”
"Man, I'm sorry, Carter. I didn't realize that my being here, settling back in, is so difficult for you to fucking handle." I jump to my feet, my posture defensive, tone full of sarcasm.
Denver heaves a sigh beside me. "Let's go get a beer," he suggests.
I laugh, but the sound is hard and jarring, not like a laugh at all.
"Fine," Carter agrees.
Under the scrutiny of both my big brothers’ stares, I shrug, tugging hard on the back of my neck.
Following them out of the house and piling into Denver's old black SUV, I'm reminded by all the times we did exactly this: three brothers hanging out, driving around with the windows open and the radio blaring, searching for a good time. It used to be our norm, as customary as ordering pizza on Friday nights, eating the cold leftovers on Saturday mornings, and watching football on Sundays. But that was before.
Seven long years have passed, and I'm back now, feeling my way around a familiarity that is no longer comfortable.
Staring out the window, I watch the crummy shithole of a town I grew up in pass by. The houses are all the same—more worse for wear now, but still standing. I see the high school and football field and general store. The pharmacy and supermarket and old movie theater. Everything is exactly as it was when I left, but it feels different now, like it’s a façade. It should have changed. How could seven years pass, how could the world be ripped apart and parts of it haphazardly sewn back together, how could a man like Ethan die in a land so far from his family, and my tiny hometown in Georgia remain constant?
"You know, she might be there tonight," Denver says. His voice is cautious.
"Who?"
Carter and Denver exchange a glance that is so obvious, I'd have to be blind to have missed it.
"Evie," Carter says clearly, an undercurrent to his tone.
I continue to stare out the window, the cool glass pressing against my forehead. Even this, the silence that stretches between us, feels forced. They watch me warily out of the corners of their eyes, gauging my reaction to things, testing me to see if I'll smile or snap.
"I just wanted you to know, so you're not caught off guard."
"Okay."
"Sometimes, she meets her friends for a drink. Jenny Bailey and Miranda Harris from high school, remember them?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Jenny's a nurse now."
I close my eyes, feigning disinterest but hanging on to every word Carter mumbles. I've only been back a week, and since the second I learned she was in town, I've picked up the phone more than a hundred times to press the buttons for the Maywood Residence. Absorbing as much information as I can from Carter's nervous rambling, I soak up every detail he offers about Evie Maywood. The general's daughter. The all-around good girl who was determined to change the world the last time I saw her.
"Did you keep in touch with her at all?" Denver's deep voice catches me off-guard.
"Evie?
” I work a swallow, just saying her name causes a surge of feelings and memories to unfold in my mind. “I tried. I’m not sure what happened. I reached out a few times over that summer and things between us were okay, not great but not awful. I called her the weekend before she reported to West Point and she blew me off. Told me to let her go, to stop playing head games by keeping in touch. She asked me not to contact her again.” I bang my forehead lightly against the window, a distraction from the pain of that conversation. Seven years ago it was devastating, today it’s still pretty brutal. Guess that saying “time heals all wounds” is bullshit.
Denver whistles lowly but doesn’t press for more details which is a relief but also irritates me. I miss talking about Evie. With the exception of Ethan, I never mentioned her to the other guys who were constantly bragging about the women they had waiting for them back stateside. One, because most of their brags were bullshit. And two, because Evie was never waiting for me. It’s been a long time since I’ve said her name aloud and now that I have, I want to keep going. My brothers knew her, know her, almost as well as me.
"Miranda works at a daycare," Carter supplies randomly, continuing to fill the silence with life details of people we've gone to high school with.