Broken

by Enders, KC

  “Seriously. I can work with him if you have concerns, but he’s just got to put in a little effort. That’s all.” I shrug and savor the wine. White, crisp. It’s a nice change from the full-bodied reds I usually go for. “He’s a smart kid. He just needs—”

  “Focus? Yeah. I’m going to talk to his coach and see if he can help motivate Shane.” She rolls her eyes and glances back down the beach.

  The trio are jogging toward us, tossing an oversize football back and forth between them.

  I think about the school newsletter I skimmed through this morning, scrambling to remember what sports were mentioned.

  “Shane’s on the baseball team?” That doesn’t feel right, but it’s the only boys sport I remember reading about.

  “No, rugby, and it’s not sponsored by the school. Best decision ever though, suggesting he try it,” she says before standing to lean over the railing of the deck. She cups her hands around her mouth and yells, “Clark, what’s the ruling on grades and playing time?”

  Feet thunder up the steps, shaking the deck. I pluck another chunk of cheese and a cracker from the board and pop them into my mouth.

  “Grades determine field time. Extra suicides for anything below a B.”

  The voice delivering the edict skates through me, tickling recognition in the back of my brain, and a shiver runs down my spine. It’s familiar, but why? Deep. Smooth.

  “Shane, you heard what Coach said. And Mrs. Triplett is here, too, so there’s no weaseling your way out of math homework. You need to study, practice, and kick ass on your tests. Right, Chloe?” Natalie lays it out there for everyone.

  A groan filters up the stairs before Shane lumbers onto the deck. The poor kid has senioritis just like every single other second-semester high school senior.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Shane says.

  He’s a good kid, and he’s bright. He just needs to put in the time.

  “Hey, Ms. T,” he says politely addressing me with the shortened name most of the boys in class prefer.

  “Hi, Shane.” I smile encouragingly at him.

  “Liam, Clark, this is Chloe. Shane’s math teacher and the woman in charge of whether he plays or not.”

  Natalie seamlessly switches from hard-ass to loving mom and tips her wineglass at her son. It’s funny because while Shane might be her eighteen-year-old baby, Natalie has to take a step back and tilt her head to make eye contact with him. He already towers over her.

  Shane shifts his weight and opens his mouth but stalls. Poor kid looks like he wants to melt through the boards of the deck and disappear. At his first opportunity, he does exactly that, slinking through the patio doors and away from all discussion of his grades.

  “The only person responsible for his playing time is Shane.” Liam offers me his hand. “Mrs. Triplett, it’s good to meet you.”

  I shake his hand and wash down my cheese with a quick swallow of wine. “Please, Chloe is fine.” Though he didn’t say it, there is no doubt in my mind that this is Shane’s father. The resemblance is unquestionable.

  The air sizzles around me, almost uncomfortably, but when I take in the man behind Liam Dempsey, I’m met with deep chocolate eyes. My cheeks heat as recognition washes over me because the last time I looked into those deep brown eyes, I was flat on my back.

  The beautiful man who caught me in my literal fall from grace as we arrived in town is standing before me. My heart kicks into overdrive, and I almost feel light-headed as he approaches. Tall, broad, and with a confident bearing that sends chills down my spine.

  “Hi,” I say, trying to ignore the zing of warmth spreading from our clasped hands.

  The gravelly chuckle he emits doesn’t help with the task.

  “Miles Kent. You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.” He does a full once-over, smiling broadly at the confusion painted across my face. Shooting a look at Natalie, he clarifies, “Clark is just a nickname.”

  He accepts a beer from Liam, tilting the bottle to his lips. Each long, thirsty pull sets his throat bobbing as he swallows. His dark stubble hints at a beard in progress. Wind tousles his thick brown hair.

  “So, they call you Clark, and your last name is Kent. Really? Do you moonlight as Superman?” I ask.

  He could totally pass for the superhero. From what I can see, he’s certainly got the body for it. His long-sleeved shirt clings to a solid chest, straining to contain his biceps. And he seems to have found the damsel-in-distress angle in me.

  I would love to push his dark hair back from his face, leaving just one sexy curl twisting against his forehead. Another flush of heat singes its way up my chest as my thoughts startle me.

  I tried to date a couple years ago, but it was awful. Guilt fought with disinterest, and I decided I wasn’t ready yet. I resigned myself to just … not.

  Like he can see my thoughts, Miles runs his fingers through his hair. “Could always be worse. I’d have hated hearing Dreamboat whispered in my ear over comms, dick deep in a shitstorm with another guy’s hand wrapped around my shoulder.” He gives a chin lift to Liam, a small smile tugging at his lips.

  Dry. Sarcastic. He speaks my language.

  Natalie snorts a laugh, and Liam shrugs, saying, “I got no problem with my call sign. I’m secure in my masculinity. Guess you’re still questioning yours, Clark?”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Back up a minute,” Natalie interrupts, looking back and forth between Miles and me. “You two have met? When did this happen?” She settles into Liam, where he’s sprawled on the outdoor love seat next to her.

  “Uh, I … well—”

  “Chloe was overcome by her mere proximity to me and fell helplessly into my arms.” Miles raises his hand and bows his head in false modesty as he slings his absolutely perfect bullshit version of what happened. “I’m just glad I was there to catch her, soften her fall, and revive her from that fainting spell. I’m used to it,” he adds, cocky smirk firmly in place. Catching my shocked expression, he winks and lifts his drink to Liam. “Top that, Dreamboat.”

  “Oh my God,” I mumble and then go on to explain what really happened when we met. Maybe gloss over is a better description than explain because I sure as hell don’t go into details about why I passed out in a convenience store. No one needs to hear about the crazy new teacher’s panic attacks.

  “Was it low blood sugar?” Natalie asks, jumping to her feet. She pushes the charcuterie board toward me. “Liam, go start the grill, so we can get Chloe fed. We don’t need her fainting again.”

  Liam lights the grill and then follows his wife inside, leaving me alone with Miles.

  Miles reaches across me to pluck a selection of cheese and sausage from the board. Muscles bunch and flex beneath a long-sleeved black shirt that seems to be molded to every dip and ridge across his torso and shoulders. “So, tell me, Chloe Triplett, what’s your story?” He settles into the seat across from me. Leaning back, he props his ankle on the opposite knee. He slouches low in his seat and drops his snacks in a pile on the flat plane of his stomach before choosing a chunk of cheese and popping it into his mouth.

  “My story?” Lord have mercy, I’ve already shared it once tonight with Natalie. I’m not sure I want to do it again.

  “Mmhmm. What brings you to Virginia Beach? Where’s your little sidekick, and do you always drop like a ton of bricks at the gas station?” He sucks a smear of creamy brie from his thumb and waits for my response.

  Nope. Not ready to share. I’ve just met the man—officially met him. And while dating hasn’t actually worked out for me since Dallas died, I’m aware enough to know that a conversation about anxiety and losing the love of my life isn’t a great way to test the waters.

  And, if I’m being honest with myself, that whole slew of questions was a bit forward.

  “I wanted to be closer to my parents. They were sweet enough to take Jake for a bit since I was meeting with Natalie, though I should probably go soon and get him.” I set my wineglass down and scoot to the edge
of my seat, my skirt sliding up higher on my thighs. I shift and tug at the hem.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Lee’s got it in her head to feed you, so you’re going to have to eat before you’re allowed to go,” Miles says. “It’s easier not to fight it.”

  “Lee?” I ask.

  “Sorry. Natalie’s nickname,” he explains. He pops a stack of cheese slices into his mouth and tips his beer bottle at me to continue.

  The ocean breeze whips my hair across my face, tickling at my lips. I gather the wild, dark curls to one side and twist it into a loose braid, tucking the ends into the collar of my shirt. It’s not a permanent fix, but it’ll do to temporarily tame the mess.

  I dig my phone from where it sits in the depths of my tote and check the time. I really should go. “I teach high school math at Cox, my parents live inland, and you’ve met Jake. Oh, and Bronson. You had the pleasure of meeting my dog as well. That’s it. That’s all there is,” I tell him, rifling back through my purse for keys. I desperately need to clean this bag out.

  My phone buzzes in my hand with a text from my mom.

  “Everything okay?” Miles asks.

  “It is.” I nod slowly as I read. “My parents fed my kiddo an early dinner and are grabbing some ice cream on their way to bring him home for the night.” I tap out a response that I’ll be home soon, only to be met with my mother’s standard, No rush.

  I close the Messages app and let my gaze linger on my locked screen. The last picture we ever took together—Dallas, Jake, and me. Bronson is photobombing us over Dallas’s shoulder.

  It was just before another deployment—“a playdate in the sand,” Dallas said.

  We had our whole lives left to live. Until his was cut short and mine was left broken.

  Chapter Four

  Miles

  Whatever has grabbed Chloe’s attention on the screen of her phone is not as okay as she would like me to think it is. A hint of sadness clouds her eyes, pulling the corners of her mouth downward. After my world imploded, I’ve made it a point to be observant as hell, and I have no doubt there’s more to her sudden shift than what she’s giving me.

  “Chloe?”

  Her delicate shoulders rise with a deep breath, and she schools her features. “Sorry. Um, I guess I’m fine to stay for a bit.” Flipping her frown, a polite smile flashes across her face before settling to a neutral expression. She reaches for her nearly empty wineglass and swirls the pale gold liquid around the bottom, directing all of her focus on it.

  With her hair pulled off her face, she’s all big blue eyes, thick lashes brushing against her cheeks with each blink. Absently, she pulls at a loose black curl that escaped its confines and tucks it between her lips.

  Liam slides the door open, pulling her attention back from wherever her thoughts ran off with her.

  I pick up the bottle from the table and hold it up to Chloe in question.

  She passes me her glass, asking, “What about you, Miles? Are you a native Virginian? Are you on Liam’s team? Wife? Kids? Or just hiding in plain sight, ready to swoop in and save the day?”

  Wine sloshes into her glass as I stiffen slightly, caught off guard by her questions. Thankfully, Chloe’s got her back to Liam because, no matter what the guy thinks, his poker face has gone to shit. He knows how I ended up here and that this was never in my plan.

  I huff out a laugh and shake my head, making sure to catch Liam’s eye so he knows to lock his shit down. I’m not talking about Aly, about what I had, and how it’s no longer mine. We’re not going there. “I’m from the Midwest, a small town in—”

  “Please tell me you’re not from Kansas,” she says, mirth dancing in her eyes, all hints of sadness gone.

  Our fingers brush as she takes her wineglass back. Electricity, chemistry, whatever it is, I feel it zinging through me from even the briefest of touches.

  “Iowa, but close enough.” This isn’t the first time I’ve fielded this question. “And I was a SEAL, but I left the glitz and glamour of that life behind. Cole Security has been kind enough to let me keep my superhero status, so now, I get to sit behind a desk and just pretend to be as badass as Liam. All the glory, none of the risk.” I nod in Liam’s direction.

  Thankfully, he just presses his lips together, giving me a tight nod in return. Subject officially closed.

  “So, Virginia, by way of Iowa cornfields instead of Kansas. Do you miss Midwest living?” Chloe asks. “We spent a little bit of time out there before … before settling in New York.” As if realizing she said more than she’d wanted to, she brings her wineglass to her lips and turns her gaze out to the ocean.

  We. She said we, but there’s no wedding ring in sight.

  So much is not being said in this conversation. Probably more than what’s actually being vocalized, and it is way too heavy for dinner with friends. A casual, accidental dinner at that. At least, I hope it’s just casual and not a fucking setup.

  Liam wouldn’t pull something like that, but I wouldn’t put it past Natalie. She’s the one with access to my employee file. She’s the one who knows all of my secrets.

  “There were other stops along the way,” I say, watching her for … what? A tell? Some hint at what she’s holding back?

  We just met, and I’m already invested. Maybe too invested.

  “Life happens whether you’re ready for it or not, right?” There’s resignation in her words.

  Isn’t that the truth?

  The door slides open, and bowls, plates, and other crap are balanced high in Natalie’s arms. Shane follows with more, but when he turns to close the door, he bumps into his mom, sending a bright orange bowl cascading toward the deck. I lunge out of my chair and snag it before it hits the boards.

  “Thanks, Clark,” Natalie says. She obnoxiously bats her lashes and adds, “You’re my hero.”

  Yep. Saving salad with a single lunge. If only everything were that simple.

  We fill our plates, and conversation swerves toward safer, lighter subjects. When Chloe’s napkin drops onto the plate in her lap, I stand, take her plate, and head into the kitchen. I throw away trash, rinse dishes, and load the dishwasher with as much as I can.

  Before I start in on washing what’s left, I do a quick check of my phone and see a text from Chance. He laughed and avoided when I reminded him of dinner tonight at the Dempseys’. Said he already had plans. Evidently, new ink was preferable to dinner with friends.

  Natalie’s voice drifts in as the door slides open. “Yeah, I get it. But sometimes, you need to ask for help. Jake’s too young, and maybe your dad doesn’t need to be lifting stuff and climbing ladders, you know? It’s no problem to send Liam or Shane—hell, there’s an office full of men at Cole. I’m sure we can find some muscle to help out when you need it,” Natalie offers.

  “I’ll think about it. Maybe save my phone-a-friend for when something really big happens. Thanks for dinner, the wine, all of it. This was great. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed doing things like this. A little adult conversation goes a long way.” Chloe smiles when Natalie pulls her in for a hug.

  “Anytime,” Natalie says before turning her attention to me. “Miles, stop that. You don’t need to be in here, cleaning up.”

  I drop a few more pieces of silverware into the dishwasher. “No big. You fed me, and Dreamboat helped me out with Maggie. It’s the least I can do.” I dry my hands on a towel and close the dishwasher door.

  Chloe’s brows are pinched together, and her head tilts to one side when I meet her gaze. Quick as can be, she looks away and focuses on Natalie.

  Instead of stopping to think about what that look might have meant, I edge toward the door and add, “I’ll grab a few more things from outside and then take off.”

  I want a minute with Liam, let him know how much I appreciate his help with my truck. And that if he gets a call to help out a dark-haired math teacher, I’m here for it.

  “Don’t you dare,” Natalie says, stopping me in my tracks.
“Shane and Liam can get the rest. Make sure Chloe gets to her car okay, and we’ll call it good.”

  I raise an eyebrow at Natalie’s nudge. Because by the sly smirk she’s sporting, that’s exactly what she’s doing. Giving me a push that I sure as hell don’t need. Hell, I’m not sure I’m even ready for it. But I’m no fool, and Natalie throwing her don’t fuck with me look is all it takes for me to concede.

  “Will do. Tell Liam thanks again for me,” I say, pulling my keys from my pocket and walking to the front door.

  I hold it open for Chloe, and whether I’m ready to move on or not, I can’t help but appreciate the way her skirt hugs the curve of her ass as she descends the stairs. And those calves? I don’t know how the hell she can walk in those heels, but they are doing the Lord’s work, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks.

  The lights flash on her vehicle, and at the click of the locks opening, I lengthen my stride, so I’m there to open her car door.

  “Thank you.” She settles her giant bag on the passenger seat, giving me another nice view of that ass.

  She’s like fucking pinup art, and I have to bite back a groan and look away before I start popping wood.

  Unfortunately, when I lift my gaze, I’m met with a shit-eating grin on Natalie’s face. I’m busted, bigger than shit, checking out her new best friend. Yep, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ve been set up.

  The front door closes, leaving me standing in the middle of the street, watching this gorgeous woman shift into the driver’s seat. She pulls the safety belt across her, clicking it into place. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice the way the strap hugged her body, nestling into the valley of her chest.

  “You good?” I ask, stepping to the side to put the car door between us.

  Chloe nods. “Thank you. It was nice meeting you again.”

  “I had a good time tonight. Drive safe,” I say and shut her into the deep red SUV tapping the roof twice in quick succession.

  As I step back to watch her drive away, the light of her turn signal flashes way too fast. I wonder if she knows she’s got a bulb that needs replacing. For a hot minute, I consider popping back inside and letting Natalie know about the failing bulb, but I decide to just go home instead. I can tell her tomorrow at the office.