by A. J. Pryor
She rubs her hands together and hunches her shoulders around her ears, obviously uncomfortable. Daisy snuggles up beside her, and I’m hit with a pang of jealousy. She loves this dog more than her own son. It’s so fucked up.
“You’ve always been strong, Derek. I knew you could handle that life. I was miserable.”
“I was your son.”
“You still are.”
“No.” I stand, this face-to-face too personal, too raw. I wanted Hannah to come with me today, wanted her to be a buffer, but she felt I needed to face Madeline on my own. Hannah makes things easier. She makes things true. She makes them real.
I walk around the room feeling claustrophobic and pick up a picture from my senior year. Sitting on a wall, waiting for practice to start, I look lost. Friends should have been surrounding me, but I’m alone. It’s written all over my face and in my stance, and it all started with Madeline Cage’s death.
“Hannah quit her job.”
“Yes, your father told me.” For fourteen years my dad has kept in touch with this woman. For fourteen years he’s hidden her from me. Hannah and I researched the law. Faking your death isn’t a punishable crime. People are allowed to disappear, as long as they don’t profit from it. My mother has gained nothing by disappearing. If anything, she’s lost so much. My father was cleared of any crime. And I’m left with two parents who love no one but themselves.
“Her publisher begged her to stay, but she doesn’t feel comfortable there anymore. I’m hoping she’ll change her mind.”
She nods.
“Hannah’s struggling, having to redefine who she is, having to become a new person to fit in here. I think she misses Los Angeles.”
Madeline’s head jerks up, her eyes filled with fear. “Will you let her move back?”
“I don’t own her. If she’s not happy, I won’t make her stay.”
“But you’ll try to convince her not to leave?”
I watch the flicker of a pulse in her throat, watch her swallow an emotion I can’t read. “Did Dad? Did he try to keep you here?”
Looking to her hands, she shakes her head. “I was leaving, Derek. You were both better off without me. You still are.”
“That’s not how I remember it.” I sit beside her, take her hand in mine. It’s frail, soft, and her bones are delicate in my big hand. “I remember a mother who tucked me in each night, who made cookies and hot chocolate. I remember feeling loved when you were around, and when you left, when I thought you’d died, I remember being alone.”
Clearing her throat, she squeezes my fingers. “I remember a woman who was drowning, lonely, and afraid. Being a Cage was too hard for me. I did my best to keep you from seeing what was really going on.”
We sit in silence, both feeling the other’s pain, each attempting to understand the other’s heartache.
I stand. “I won’t be back after today,” I say.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry your life was so sad. I wish I could have made it better. But I’m happy.” I pick up a photo from my eighth-grade end-of-year party. “Please don’t try to contact me, stop coming to my games, and stop taking pictures of me.”
She nods, tears streaming from her eyes. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” she says.
“Me too.” With a sigh, I remove the chain from around my neck and hand it to her. “Take this. I don’t need it anymore.”
I take in my mother for a few more minutes. Study her features, memorize the curve of her eyes, the straight line of her nose. Madeline Cage was once beautiful. My father took what was right in front of him for granted. I sometimes wondered why he never remarried, why he never dated. But none of that is my concern any longer.
“Did you know about Reggie?”
She nods.
“Is he the reason you left?”
“One of them, yes.”
Sadness weighs me down. I want to be angry. I want to scream at her, demand answers, but all I feel for her is incredible grief.
“Do you see Dad a lot?”
Her eyes hold mine.
“Your father is a reminder of a life that jailed me. Our lives are worlds apart. If I need to see him, I do. But no, we lead entirely different lives.”
I stare at her, my life vividly flashing before my eyes. All the nights I cried myself to sleep, all the times I wished I’d been born into a different life, a simpler life. My parents held the secret that would save me. I’ll never forgive either one of them.
I have all the information I came for. My life was never worth more than her own.
I head to the door. Before I turn the knob, I say, “I hope you are finally at peace. I hope your life was everything you wanted it to be. It’s time you let go of the past and move forward. It’s time we both do.”
Not waiting for a response, I grab my jacket and brave the Chicago cold. The wind whips at my face when I hustle outside to the car. Hannah’s in the driver’s seat, the heat on full-blast.
Opening the passenger door, I let in a gust of icy air and a few snowflakes.
“That was fas—”
I lean across the center console, take her face in my cold hands, and kiss her. A slight whimper escapes her, and her arms circle my neck, binding us together.
Resting my cheek against hers, I stay still, enjoying the peace that is Hannah. “I won’t do that to you,” I finally say. “I won’t ever make you feel less than my equal.”
She pulls away, her hand finding mine. “It’s sad, isn’t it? Her life, I find her so sad.”
We sit in silence, fingers entwined, our thoughts distant.
“Where’s your chain?” she asks, noticing it’s gone.
I rub my chest. “I gave it to her. She needs it now.”
Hannah furrows her brow, confused.
“Lily gave me that chain, labeled it my good-luck charm. After she gave it to me, I made the football team. No one knew about that chain but us.”
“Sounds like the luckiest chain around.”
I squeeze her hand and pull her over the center divider, onto my lap. She squeals and tries to fight me, ending up straddling me instead.
Breathless, she runs her hands across my chest and lowers her lids.
“Yes,” she breathes.
I slide a hand behind her neck, pulling her closer, resting her forehead against my own.
“What are you saying yes to, Hannah?”
“I’ll marry you.”
I stare at her, surprised.
“Wait,” I say, “are you pregnant?”
Hannah laughs, her eyes crinkling at the sides, her cheeks puffing out, and her bright smile infectious. “Are those the new rules?” she asks. “You have to knock me up first?”
Sliding my palm up her side, I tease the underside of one breast. She responds, her breathing deepening.
“I’ll marry you tomorrow, next week, next year. I’ll marry you pregnant, barren, rich, or poor. Hannah Black, I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
“Well, Cage, as long as you protect me from the polar vortex, I’m one hundred percent yours.”
A chuckle releases from the depth of my gut. “Kiss me, Hannah.”
Rumors swirl that Chicago’s bad boy, Derek Cage, is settling down. After the year he’s had, we hope the rumors are true. The heartthrob can use some good news.
Tom Cage slips in the polls, tightening the race for Senator. Looks like his family name can’t save him this time around.
Speculation on the wedding of Derek Cage to Hannah Black continues as the two were spotted leaving the city, a giant ring on the bride-to-be’s left hand.
The wildflowers have taken over the vast field, covering it in deep purples and blues. A gentle breeze fills the air with their flowery scent.
I survived my fist Chicago winter. In truth, I didn’t venture outside often. Derek kept me occupied with indoor activities, and when we weren’t busy at home, I spent time with Chandler or Gwen at one of their many hangouts.
“You are stunning, Hannah Banana.”
I smile at my father who’s dressed in a charcoal suit and tie. He’s not looking too bad himself. The stress of the past year has taken its toll, making him grayer than I remember, and a few new lines frame his dark brown eyes, but I can see the weight has been lifted. After Derek ended all ties with his family, he took care of mine. He hired the best lawyers, and took a proactive stance in dealing with the Hamiltons. There wasn’t enough evidence for a judge to move forward with their case after Derek’s attorney’s were done tearing them apart. Digging into their past, bringing forth a history full of deceit and fraud. They’ll be lucky to avoid jail time for falsifying documents. It’s great to finally have my dad back.
“I had a man-to-man talk with Derek.”
“Oh God, please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Made it clear I expect him to keep you safe, and I won’t keep quiet if anything happens to you.”
“Dad.”
He holds out his hand, stopping me from complaining more. “You know what he said, Banana?”
I shake my head.
“That he’d die before he let anything happen to you.”
I hold his hand between my own. “Derek doesn’t have a family anymore, Dad. I’m it. He’s nothing like his parents.”
“He has your mother and me, too,” my dad says proudly.
I stare at him, confused.
“Family, Hannah. He’s part of our family, too.”
Wrapping my arms around his torso, I hug him tightly. “I love you, Dad.”
“Sunshine, get your tush moving. I’m about to start.” Chandler tugs at my elbow, leading me to the far side of the meadow.
Derek and I had chosen this place to say our vows, to promise our life to each other. It’s where our journey started, and it’s where it should continue forever. A select few join us today: my parents, Gwen, and Chandler, who is officiating the ceremony. The man has many talents.
Coxy and Coach Matthews came for Derek. Never wavering in their support of their teammate and friend, I also consider them family.
It’s a small, simple ceremony, and it’s perfect.
Derek signed a four-year contract to stay with the Bears. After all the drama, he was concerned the team wouldn’t take a risk on him. But Derek’s part of the Bears, and they don’t throw their own out in the cold.
I’m freelancing for a small online news publication. We send daily emails to our subscribers with short updates on what is happening around the world. It includes news, entertainment, and of course, a gossip column. I love it, and it gives me the flexibility to work when I want and to stay home when Derek’s there. Larry is still trying to get me back at Century, maybe one day I’ll rejoin his team, but for now, I’m happy. Travis McCoy moved out of Chicago after he received widespread criticism for possibly plagiarizing my work. Chandler overheard his drunken admission that he’d followed me, written the notes, and taken photos, all in the vain hope I’d run with my slutty tail between my legs. Asshole.
I begin my walk down the makeshift “aisle,” my arm locked with my dad’s, my eyes on Derek. He is more breathtaking than he was nine months ago, and I can’t look away. His hair is slicked back, his strong jaw is covered in sexy stubble, and my stomach flips over the fact that he’s mine.
Love is risky. It’s a chance you take with your heart. Somehow I knew taking that chance with Derek Cage was the right decision. I never feel less. I never feel neglected. I always feel valued. Loved.
Derek Cage was once a reclusive, broken man, living a life of untouchable isolation. His pain ran deep, his soul an empty chasm. His past will always define him, but his heart has healed, his soul has escaped its prison, and he’s even more amazing as a result.
Derek Cage isn’t a risk. He’s a sure thing. He’s my sure thing from this day forward.
I can’t thank you enough for reading Breaking Cage, my first romantic suspense. I needed multiple eyes on this one to keep me heading in the right direction. My editing team is incredible, and I could not have pulled this story off without them.
Chelsea Kuhel, you have become a great friend, and I can’t believe we’ve never spoken in person. Thank you for always brainstorming with me, always taking the time to discuss new ideas, and for being my mentor and writing coach for the past two years. You are an amazing editor and friend. In the time that I’ve known you, I’ve published two books, and you’ve had two kids. I’m not sure which task is more challenging. I look forward to many more years of Writer’s Hangouts, friendship and books.
Marion Archer, you squeezed me into your schedule and were always there for questions and clarification. Your attention to detail, feedback, and editing were invaluable, and you helped me add the ‘suspense’ in my romantic suspense. Thank you so much for making time for me.
Karen Lawson, thank you for your proofread and feedback. You are efficient and a true pleasure to work with.
LS King, thank you for kicking my ass. You’re honest, you’re hardcore, and I learned so much from you.
Hang Le you are incredibly talented. The cover is beautiful, and you nailed it with the first draft. I loved working with you and look forward to future projects.
Scott Hoover, I have admired your photos for years and am honored to have your work on my cover.
Thank you InkSlinger PR for handling all of my marketing and promotions!
I have an amazing beta team, who has contributed in many different ways. Donna, Coral, Erica, Erica and Denise. Thank you for always agreeing to read whatever I send you. Emily Hansen, your detailed notes in a crazy, hectic summer were amazing. Robin Parrish, Bridget Fonger, Kelly Parker Carter, and Terrijo Hammerlund-Montgomery, thank you all for being the last eyes on this storyline.
Ava Harrison, thank you for everything!
Thank you to my husband and two daughters who are always so supportive and make it possible for me to write these books. My mom who agrees to read these storylines when it’s not her ‘genre’ and my dad who helped me with all the football terminology.
I hope everyone enjoyed Derek and Hannah’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
A.J. Pryor lives in Los Angeles with her husband and two daughters. After realizing she preferred reading over cooking and cleaning, A.J. decided to try and make a career out of her passion and started writing.
You can follow her at:
https://www.facebook.com/AJPryorauthor/
@ajpryor1
AJpryor2
Other works by A.J. Pryor
Right Next Door
Copyright © 2016 A.J. Pryor
All rights reserved.
ISBN - 13: 978-1539131861
ISBN – 10: 1539131866
Editor Chelsea Kuhel: [email protected]
Editor Making Manuscripts: [email protected]
Proofreader Karen Lawson: The Proof Is In The Reading
Final Editor Chelsea Kuhel: [email protected]
Cover design © Hang Le byhangle.com
Cover photo by Scott Hoover
Model Danny B.
Interior designed & formatted by:
www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com
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This book is fictional. Names, characters, places, and incidents are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Further, any reference to or use of actual locations, products, or public figures is not authorized by the respective owners, trademark holders, licenses, or the public figures and thereby such owners, trademark holders, and public figures are not sponsors of thi
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