A Little Broken

by Juli Valenti

  A Little Broken

  By Juli Valenti

  A Little Broken

  Copyright © 2013 by Juli Valenti

  First Edition, October 2013

  Cover by Sprinkles On Top Studios

  Formatting by Danielle Blanchard

  License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Publisher’s Note:

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express written permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, resold (as a “used” e-book), stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  A lot of help went into ALB becoming a reality.

  First and foremost, I have to thank Lindy Zart, who has been my constant cheerleader, always telling me to “Just Do It” when I’d say “Someday I’m going to…”. You’ve pushed me to do something I never thought I could. You’re a superstar! Thank you for always being there, for being a third of the Best Trio Ever.

  Ana Love, the other third of the Best Trio Ever, thank you for your many “I LOVE IT!” comments and I’m sorry I didn’t name it “:C” like you wanted, but I believe you’ll find ‘A Little Broken’ a more suitable title.

  Melissa Favro – You are a rockstar! I couldn’t have done this without you as my idea bouncing wall, even if it sometime felt like we were playing an endless game of ping pong. You’re invaluable to me as a beta reader, an author, and a friend. Thank you for all your help.

  My beta readers (and guinea pigs, HA!) Frances Baker, Tiffany Stevens, Migdalia Gerena – your feedback made this book better – thank you for taking time to read it, and pour your heart into the thoughts you gave me to make it better.

  Marc – Thank you for the times you told me you were proud of me, even if you didn’t always know what you were being proud of. Mom and Dad – Thank you for loving me through everything. I wouldn’t be the woman I am now, if I didn’t have parents like you.

  My awesome Editor, Kristina @ Red Road Editing, and my cover artist, Sarah @ Sprinkles on Top Studios, you girls are amazing! Thank you for all you do.

  Last but not least, thank you. You - for buying this book, for reading it, and going on this journey with me. An author can write all they want to, but if no one reads it, then it was all for naught, so thank you.

  In Loving Memory of Emmanuel Jaden

  You may be gone, but you are never forgotten, Little Mister.

  Prologue

  Jessie dreamt.

  A dim light drew her eye to the front door, opened enough for something small to fit through. That’s funny, she thought, I know I closed and locked the door before I went to bed. Moving slowly to the door, she investigated what was beyond, to see if anyone was outside. Nothing. No one was there. Odd. Quietly, as to not wake the house, she re-closed the door, and turned the deadbolt. A sudden feeling of dread came over her, and she turned toward the bedrooms. Unexplainable panic started to set in.

  She walked fast, steps rushed, and opened the door to the closest bedroom. The soft blue of the walls and nursery animals greeted her as they always had, though instead of the usual welcome they boasted, they made the feeling in the pit of her stomach worse. She continued on to the crib, peering over the side rail to gaze at her small son; however, he wasn’t there. The crib was empty. He was gone.

  “Wake up, Ryan! You have to go check on the baby!” She woke in a panic, crying, shaking her sleeping husband who lay next to her.

  “What? Jessie, he’s fine,” Ryan answered, grumbling and turning away from her.

  “Please! Just humor me, please. Just go make sure he’s okay.” The pleading in her voice caused Ryan to look over his shoulder at her. She knew she sounded crazy, but, still sore from giving birth over two months ago, Jessie had been having a rough time. Plus, if she were to be honest with herself, she didn’t think she could bear the sight of an empty nursery if her dream played out to be reality.

  Ryan sighed, but sat up in bed and pushed the covers off so he could get up. He stood, wiped sleepily at his eyes, and trudged out of the bedroom to check on their son.

  Long moments later, he returned. “He’s fine, Jessie. Sleeping, as you should be at,” he paused, glancing at the clock on the makeshift bedside table, “four in the morning.”

  “I had a dream … a bad dream,” she said, trying to erase the panic still racing through her body. Tears still coursed down her face and her body racked with uncontrollable spasms.

  Ryan climbed back under the covers and pulled her body tightly against his. Kissing her softly on her hair, he whispered, “It’s okay, just go back to sleep – dreams can’t hurt you.”

  Sighing, she started calming in his arms, relaxing. The last thought she had before sleep overcame her was that Ryan had no idea how wrong he was.

  Chapter One

  Jessie fidgeted, trying to get comfortable on their overstuffed black leather couch. Finding a somewhat bearable position, she picked up her book from the armrest where it held her place, and started to read. Ever since the baby had been born, this was her routine before he woke. As night-owls themselves, their son generally went to bed late, around eleven or midnight, and got up about twelve hours later – with a food break thrown in there somewhere. As it was around eleven, she figured it wouldn’t be long before he woke up, and decided to relax with a book during the time she still had for herself.

  “Have you seen Goose?” Ryan asked, standing by the couch and peering down at her. His darkly handsome face lo
oked concerned, chocolate eyes pinched in worry as his eyes darted around the small room. Goose was the new two-month-old kitten that had found its way to their doorstep. They had taken in the little bugger, but the small animal still made the couple nervous around the baby.

  “No, but I haven’t been looking for her, either,” Jessie said, nose still buried in her book. She saw her husband move away out of the corner of her eye, then caught the paragraph she’d been reading, and began reading it again.

  Before she was able to finish the paragraph, a loud thud sounded, startling her. Looking up, Jessie saw her husband sprawled on the hallway floor, a haunted, horror-filled look on his face. Without thinking, she jumped up quickly, winced from the pain of it, and rushed to him.

  “What’s the matter? Is it Goose?” she asked, thinking that maybe Goose was hurt, or worse, that Ryan had found her dead on the floor.

  Without waiting for a response, she entered the nursery. The soft blue of the walls was comforting as she walked in, taking in the lingering new baby smell that filled it. She looked around, trying to find Goose, who she thought was the source of the horror on her husband’s normally smiling face. After turning a few circles she didn’t see the kitten, or anything unusual for that matter, and began to walk back out of the room. Gut instinct stopped her steps.

  She walked quietly, almost on tip-toe back over to the crib to peek in at their son. She saw him there, sleeping, and within seconds, she registered that something was wrong, very, very wrong. Her heart thundered loudly in her chest as anxiety coursed through her body, fear and terror filling her. Unthinking, she scooped her baby out of the crib, screaming. She began running her hands up and down his arms and legs, trying to warm his cool body. He was simply too cold. His face was discolored, unreal. Still screaming, she pulled her cell phone out from her pocket and dialed 911.

  “Nine one one, what is your emergency?” a tinny voice said, though Jessie could barely make out any of the words.

  “MY SON! MY SON IS DEAD! OH MY GOD. HELP ME, HELP HIM!” Her words came out rushed, at the top of her lungs, and barely coherent. She cradled him tightly against her chest, his skin feeling unreal in the so familiar gesture, as her hand shook, barely able to hold the phone to her ear.

  “Ma’am, where is your son?” the voice asked.

  “OH MY GOD, PLEASE, please help him!” she sobbed, leaving the question unanswered. “Please God, not him. NOT HIM. Please, take me instead. I’ll do anything. Please, you can’t do this. Please don’t take him. NO, NO, NO. PLEASE!”

  “Miss, please. Lay the child on the floor, and start CPR – do you know CPR? Breathe into his mouth, so his lungs can get oxygen.”

  Jessie laid her son down on the carpeted hallway floor and brought her mouth down to meet his. She blew into his mouth, watching his chest rise, though a voice in the back of her head told her it was no use, that he was already gone.

  “Ma’am, is your door unlocked? The fire department is there, they’re going to help you.”

  Jessie couldn’t answer and looked up to see a man suited in yellow gear, carrying an orange box, walking toward her. The fireman reached her and looked down at the tiny lifeless body lying next to her on the floor. He looked at her, sadness in his eyes, and shook his head. With that, he turned and walked out of the apartment.

  “Wait! You can’t just leave. You have to help him! Please!” Her anguish was overwhelming, and the reaction from someone who was supposed to save lives, was devastating. He couldn’t just leave, he couldn’t! He had to help her baby!

  Feeling completely destroyed, Jessie sobbed loudly, and curled herself around her baby. I just have to get him warm, I just have to get him warm, she kept thinking, the words on a constant repeat in her head as her hands kept running their paths along his arms, his legs. You know he’s gone. He’s GONE, Jessie, the rational side of her mind told her. She just couldn’t accept it. This wasn’t real. He was going to wake up. He had to wake up.

  Hands from unseen people pulled her from the ground, away from her baby. She cried, kicking and screaming at them to let her go, but it was no use – they were too strong.

  “I have to warm him up! Don’t! Leave me be! I have to warm him up, so he’ll wake up. I have to –” her words broke on a sob, as the hands continued moving her away.

  She was brought into her bedroom and placed into a sitting position on her bed. She sat there, tears running in a constant stream down her face. She looked at the phone that had been placed in her hand. She had to call her mom. She needed her mom.

  Dialing her mom’s work, she only got her voicemail – the one that always made her smile, saying that she was either on the phone with her daughter, or away from her desk. Today, it held no humor. She hung up, not leaving a message, and dialed her dad. Jessie knew that he would be able to get a hold of her mom.

  “Hey Jessie, what’s up?” her dad answered, voice cheerful.

  “The baby … the baby … he-he’s dead, Dad! HE’S DEAD!” Her words started out blank, empty, but turned into screaming, stuttering hysterics.

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  “Dad, I can’t get Mom. I tried calling her! I need her and I just … I just can’t … get her,” her words died, catching in her throat. She’d never felt more like a child than she did at that moment. She was completely lost, and needed her mom to come fix it. Needed her mom to make it all better. There was never a problem her mom couldn’t fix, couldn’t make better, so she would have the answers, right? Even as she thought it, Jessie knew that even her mom’s superpowers couldn’t fix this. Nothing would make this alright.

  “We’ll … We’ll be there. Let me find your mom,” her dad answered, voice breaking with emotion as he hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

  Chapter Two

  Jessie had no idea how long she sat on the bed. She had become numb, though tears still managed to find their way down her face. When her parents arrived, she ran like a child into her mother’s arms and just sobbed. Her mom held her close and cried with her, for her, for her baby. When they pulled apart, her parents led her past the sea of strange, uniformed faces that crowded her small living room. Jessie couldn’t help but turn to look for her son, finding only a light blue sheet covering his small body, still lying where she’d placed him.

  Isn’t it supposed to be a white sheet? she thought numbly then cursed herself for thinking something so stupid. As her parents brought her outside, she was greeted with dark sky and rain. Jessie decided that the sky reflected her world right now, devoid of light and weeping.

  She stood close to her mom, avoiding the stares from the neighbors that were flocking outside to watch her world crumble. After a while, a man approached, speaking to her mom, too low for Jessie to hear. Her mom glanced at her, started to shake her head, but stopped. She turned to her daughter and took a deep breath before speaking.

  “They have to take him, baby. They said … They said that you could go see him one last time before they do, if you want, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s not a good idea to have that image in your head, baby girl. You should remember him as he was before, not have your last memory be of him like this.” Tears glittered in her mom’s eyes as she spoke. She was blinking rapidly, trying to be strong, and the strain of not letting them fall was obvious to Jessie.

  “I have to see him. I have to see him, Mom. I have to tell him … I have to tell him good – goodbye,” Jessie told her mom in between hiccupping breaths, following the man with ‘Coroner’ in bold lettering across the back of his jacket into the apartment.

  As she knelt by the sheet, one of the uniformed men pulled it back gently, exposing her sweet baby boy. Jessie’s tears began falling in an unending stream, some dripping onto her son. She forced herself to take in every detail of him, from the blue, dog-printed onesie he was wearing to his small hands, and finally, to his closed eyes.

  “I love you, beautiful boy,” she said, running her hand along his face, ignoring the dis
coloration there. “Please don’t be scared, and pl-please don’t forget your mommy from where you are now. I wish you didn’t leave me, and I already miss you. Be a good boy, and know that I’ll love you forever, Little Mister.” She stood, breathing heavily and choking on her tears, and walked back out into the gloom of her new world.

  ***

  Jessie sat, unmoving, staring at the carpet. The day had come and gone, the second longest, yet shortest, day of her life. There had been an outing with her folks to go shopping. She was sure they thought this would make her feel better, but call her crazy, looking for a dress to wear to her child’s funeral wasn’t her idea of a good way to keep busy or to pass the time. The only spot of non-horrible to her day was the twelve pack of Guinness her parents had dropped off with them. She’d placed the bundle at her feet, not wanting to put it in the fridge, not caring about the wet spot the sweat was making on the carpet.

  Jessie wasn’t sure what Ryan’s plans were for the night, but she definitely made some of her own. She planned on getting completely smashed, stupidly intoxicated. Her hopes were that if she could just get drunk enough, maybe she could forget. Perhaps the past two days were just a ridiculously bad dream, and she would wake up in her bed, panicked and shaking Ryan again. She knew it wasn’t true, but one could hope.