Fractured

by Leanne Pearson

  “Ok, spill, Katy. Who the fuck is Mr Tall, Dark and Doable over there? I think my panties just melted. Holy crap. That man is ridiculously good looking. Wait, don’t answer…oh my God, I’m joining the dots here. That’s the guy who helped you outside after your anxiety attack, that’s Dominic, isn’t it?” Sarah babbles rapid-fire into my ear.

  “Keep your voice down!” I hiss back at her, looking anywhere but behind me, in the direction of the six-foot-three frame of virile male I know is somewhere in the vicinity. I can still feel the penetration of his stare.

  “My ovaries are doing a line dance right now. Wow, that body. It’s built for pure pleasure. Mmm…hmmm,” she purrs.

  “Put your tongue back in your mouth, Sarah. Yes, that’s Dominic. Chase’s neanderthal American friend I went to brunch with.”

  “You’re freakin kidding me, right? That man looks anything but neanderthal to me, Katy. I think you hit your head harder than the doctor has suspected, and even if he were neanderthal, I’d happily let that walking wall of sex drag me back to his cave.”

  “Well, he’s just threatened to put me over his shoulder and carry me out of this club.”

  “What, why? And more importantly, what are you still doing here?” she implores.

  “Some asshole was trying to hit on me and let’s just say that Dominic made short work of him and then implied that I was asking for it, dressed like this,” I say indignantly.

  “Oh my God, delectably hot, dominant and chivalrous; the combination doesn’t get better than that, doll. He certainly wouldn’t need to ask me twice. I’d have been long gone, getting down and d-i-r-t-y already.”

  “Sarah! You know I can’t be with a man like that. Not now, maybe not ever again.”

  She turns me to face her, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

  “Katy, hon, I’m not disrespecting what you had with Dan. I just don’t think it’s healthy to close yourself off completely to a bit of fun—no strings. Being with another man could ease your loneliness. A man like your Dominic over there would be a satisfying distraction that’s for sure.”

  “Firstly, Dominic isn’t mine, and having sex with random men isn’t my scene, Sarah, never has been, you know that, it isn’t something I’ll ever do to take my mind off Dan. I can’t do no-strings sex.”

  As much as I love Sarah, and despite her outward show of confidence and extroverted nature, she has some serious daddy issues. She uses sex as the plug to fill an emotional void by getting “acquainted” beneath the sheets, or up against the wall in the shadowed recesses of a club with men who, for a fleeting moment of time, make her feel wanted and needed in a way her father never did. Outwardly, she’s a beautiful vibrant woman, but deep down she’s a lost little girl who yearns for the love of a good man.

  It appears that Sarah isn’t the only woman who has eyes for Dominic tonight, though.

  A bottle-blonde with “out-there” hair, clad in a skin-tight leopard-print triangle of fabric, which barely covers her breasts, that is paired with a disturbingly short mini, cuts short Sarah’s reply to me. As she passes us on her way to the bar, she causes my friend’s eyes to bug out. The blonde bimbo is gripping her friend’s arm while blatantly ogling Dominic.

  “Jeez, the eighties just called, Tina Turner wants her hairdresser back,” Sarah remarks as her eyes follow the Ditzy Duo.

  Attempting, yet failing miserably to appear sexy and seductive, Leopard-Print-Bimbo’s ankle-breaking nine-inch heels click clack across the tiled floor as she teeters over to where the men are sitting.

  I shake my head and cringe at how friggin’ obvious some woman can be.

  “Gawd, Maddie, I thought that man looked appetising from a distance, but up close...he’s the full buffet. Talk about sex on a stick,” she says loudly to her equally trampy-looking friend, clearly intent on being heard by Dominic and all males within a five-metre radius.

  A. Total. Slapper.

  She makes her move, depositing herself onto a barstool next to Dominic. The two skanks order themselves drinks. Bimbo very suggestively adjusts the tiny piece of material that is serving as some type of halter-neck; its purpose a mystery to me as more flesh is displayed than contained. She may as well be topless. Her glittery eyes are so caked in makeup, I’m surprised her false eyelashes haven’t fallen into her drink at the rate she’s batting them at the men.

  “Don’t sweat, Katy; he wouldn’t touch a slapper like that with a ten-foot cattle prodder,” Sarah whispers into my ear.

  I jerk around to face my friend.

  “What? I have no interest in who Dominic gets it on with. He’s free to pick up whatever trash tickles his fancy, he’s not my boyfriend, Sarah.”

  “Hell-ooo, this is me you’re talking to. You haven’t taken those beautiful eyes of yours off that beefcake of a man for the past ten minutes. And, for that matter, neither has he taken his eyes off you. The sexual tension between you two is so thick I’m battling to breathe.”

  “Well, as you so eloquently observed, he’s nice to look at.”

  “Nice to look at? Come-oooon, Katy. He’s the sexiest man in this bar, and probably on this street, too.”

  Dominic turns his face in our direction, our eyes collide and my tummy flips.

  Yep, hands down the most ruggedly beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  Chase is saying something to him, but he continues to stare at me. I can’t pull my eyes away from his intense gaze, despite how annoyed I am at our earlier altercation. How can I stay angry at him for that anyway? His protective instinct calls up memories of Danny acting in a similar way a few years back, when some douche got a little too friendly for his liking. Thinking about this causes tears to prick my eyes. Danny was always so protective of me.

  Desperate to gain Dominic’s attention, Bimbo leans over, gripping his bicep, dragging his eyes from mine.

  “Hey, handsome, judging by that tatt on your chest, I’d say you’re a military man,” she croons, practically undressing him with her eyes.

  She licks her lips suggestively while raking her overly made-up eyes down every inch of Dominic’s fine physique. Seriously?? Could this tart be anymore direct?

  “You know, I actually admire that woman’s confidence. She honestly thinks she has a chance with him. This train wreck is going to be perversely fascinating to watch,” Sarah says while chuckling.

  “There’s something about a soldier handling his weapon that’s such a huge turn on,” Bimbo says, going in for the kill.

  Dominic smirks.

  “I ain’t a soldier, sugar. I’m a Marine. You have any experience handlin’ firearms?” he asks her. Chase just shakes his head, taking a pull from his beer. The guys, who are seated at the bar, start chuckling and shooting knowing glances at one another.

  I slam back drink number two.

  “Oh I know my way around a gun, handsome. It’s all about handling it right. Put enough pressure on that trigger and off it goes. My name’s Lizzy by the way,” she gushes in a sultry voice, her words dripping with sexual innuendo.

  At her words, I bristle. I can’t listen to much more of this. Heightened emotions coupled with the alcohol coursing through my veins, I flip. See red. I have visions of holding up a tuft of her bleached-blonde hair in my hand in a victory wave.

  Getting up from my stool, I stalk over to Lizzy.

  “Listen here, if you wanna get laid, step back outside, you might still be able to catch a bus down to Manchester Street. This is a pub, not a red light tavern.”

  At my words, the guys start whistling on either side of me, Chase almost chokes on his beer, and Dominic just stares at me, with raised eyebrows, an amused expression knitting his handsome features.

  “And who the fuck are you?” she huffs, whirling around to face me, her lecherous grip still on Dominic’s arm.

  “Clearly not somebody who dresses and acts like she’s on the set of a C-grade porn movie.”

  Where did that come from? I shock myself with that comment. The lo
ok on my face must match the priceless one plastered on Bimbo’s right now.

  She lunges towards me, spewing a barrage of expletives, but Dominic holds her back.

  I start laughing, surprising myself even further. Before I can open my mouth again and cause any more mayhem, Sarah drags me off towards the Ladies’ room.

  When had I become this bitchy wildcat, free with the insults and on the verbal offensive over a man I had no right to be jealous over?

  “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my usually reserved and tactful friend? I’ve never seen you rip into somebody like that before. It was impressive, but totally out of character for you, and you’re so fucking tanked, Kate, your eyes are practically floating.”

  “Kate” again. I’m clearly in trouble.

  Struggling to keep my eyes focused, I attempt to hide the effects of the alcohol by plastering a stupid grin on my face. Sarah mumbles something under her breathe, while pulling her phone out of her handbag, and starts dialling. I hop off the counter and grab her arm. “Who are you calling, Sarah?”

  “Bron. I’m not going anywhere with the girls tonight, I’m taking you home.”

  “Like hell you are,” I say as I snatch her phone, shoving it into my bra.

  “Not happening, Sarah. You’ve got plans. I am perfectly fine. I’ll drink mineral water the rest of the night if it’ll make you happy?”

  Just then there was a soft rapping on the bathroom door.

  “Yeah?” Sarah barks.

  I hear Chase’s muffled voice from the other side of the door. Sarah leans across to open it a fraction.

  Seizing the opportunity, I grab the handle, swinging it wide open and step out into the passage, slipping my arm around Chase. “See, the boys will take care of me from here on, Sarah, you go on, it’s almost eleven already,” I say, extricating the phone from my cleavage and noting its time.

  Two minutes later, Sarah very reluctantly agrees to go out with her friends, leaving me under Chase’s watchful, yet probably, just as drunken eye. When we emerge from the toilet area, Bimbo and her sidekick are nowhere to be seen.

  “Wanna tell me why you reacted to that woman like you did, babe? That kind of scene is so unlike you,” Chase says.

  I shrug.

  Well, Chase, that’s because I’m battling an attraction to your really hot friend seven months after my boyfriend…your brother’s death, and ran my mouth before giving it any thought, was the honest answer that I couldn’t openly admit to him.

  “She kind of deserved it, Chase, don’t you think?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but it was kinda entertaining.”

  “Said from the mouth of a seasoned player,” I say, giving Chase a playful punch on the arm.

  As we approach the bar, I catch Dominic watching me, as though he’s searching for something in my expression. Probably my sanity. Like this isn’t going to be all kinds of awkward being near this man after having thrown my bitch-fit.

  I look away quickly. “A Bourbon and Coke please,” I ask Jason, the barman.

  Yeah, sorry, Sarah, but me drinking mineral water isn’t going to happen anytime tonight.

  I chance a furtive glance back in Dominic’s direction. His face is turned towards one of the guys. Silvery scars crisscross his left hand and knuckles. I wonder how many more lie hidden beneath his clothing.

  Dominic commands a presence in a room; he has an understated aura of virility and masculine strength that emanates from him naturally. I suppose Lizzy couldn’t be blamed for admiring him so overtly. In another lifetime, I may have been brave enough to flirt up a storm with such a gorgeous man.

  Who am I kidding, right? I was instantly aware of him the moment he walked through these doors tonight.

  Draining my glass of its contents, I get up to make my way back onto the dance floor when I suddenly become aware that the music has mellowed. The song now playing is “Slipped Away” by Avril Lavigne. Every time I hear this song, my mind is flooded with memories of Daniel.

  As the haunting lyrics rip into my heart, my chest tightens, the room starts spinning and I begin to hyperventilate. Like a fish out of water, I desperately try to get my breathing under control, but instead, start taking in shallow gulps of air as my anxiety level ratchets up to meltdown proportions.

  That sickening tingly feeling of dread, which always accompanies a panic attack, washes over my skin. I push past people in my haste to get outside.

  By the time I burst outside, I’m gasping for breath and a wave of nausea hits me. Doubling over, I throw up into a nearby drain. Heaving, my knees start to buckle. Suddenly an arm grips me from behind, bracing me across my chest, holding me upright while another gently tucks my hair behind my ear. “God, Kate, what happened in there?” Dominic whispers softly into my ear.

  I cringe, swallowing back another wave of nausea.

  Could this night get any worse?

  Chapter 10

  LEARNING TO FLY

  ~ Dominic ~

  Sorrow is bursting from her core in wracking sobs. “Why Daniel? God, why him? Why not me?” Kate’s voice sounds serrated¸ like the words are slicing her throat in their attempt to get out. She’s trembling against me uncontrollably as she wretches.

  Something has triggered this switch in her demeanour in the last few minutes from how she was earlier, ready to take on that bar-fly, to being reduced to this broken woman now.

  I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu.

  Afghanistan. Some fall, some survive. I have an inkling as to what’s been gutting this beautiful woman for the past seven months, in addition to the symptoms of PTSD she’s apparently displaying.

  Survivor guilt. Shit.

  The signs are all there. She admitted to me over brunch that she’s isolated herself, shut people out of her life, and appears to be numbing her mind with copious amounts of alcohol from what I’ve seen and heard. Been there, done that. Only difference is that drugs were my escape. I became dependent on them to get me through some of the darkest days of my life, only to find myself slipping deeper into a hell where the demon of war now had company: a narcotic fiend.

  I know only too darn well how this kind of loss can flip your world off its axis, leaving you floundering. Each ragged breath she takes feels like it’s catching the edges of a wound I’ve long tried to bury. Fuck. Her pain is twisting my gut. It’s too close to the bone. I grip her tighter.

  I understand moments like this. Sometimes words are purely ineffective. I’m feeling she’s trying really hard to rein her emotions in, her tiny body quivering against my chest as her heaving subsides. She’s not really crying now. It’s as though she’s fighting the urge to break down any further. I release her hair, which I was holding back, and slip my other arm around her.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” is all I say. It’s all the support I can offer this beautiful, broken woman.

  This elicits a ragged shudder from her delicate frame and she anchors her hand to my arms around her tiny waist. I just keep holding her until after a few minutes, her frantic breathing evens out and I slowly turn her to face me.

  Her face is a mess. Hair all over the place. Grey gunk smeared under both eyes. That desolate look in her eyes pains me. She’s pale and drawn; the scar across her left cheek looks red and angry.

  Looking up at me with empty eyes so lost in anguish, she speaks again, “I don’t think I have the strength to get through this, Dom. I miss him so much.” Her fragile voice catches on the last word.

  Her sorrow and vulnerability slices through me, weighing heavily in my chest. Tilting her chin up to meet my gaze, I inform her gently, “You are stronger than you think, darlin’. You will make it through this. Do you wanna go somewhere quiet and talk?”

  “No. No talking. I just need to keep drinking,” she replies.

  Shit. Not a good plan.

  “Tell you what, sweetheart, I’m getting’ a meal into you, then you’re gonna get some sleep, yeah?”

  She hesitates for the
briefest moment before nodding, keeping her eyes downcast.

  “Where’s your car, Kate?” I ask.

  “I didn’t use my car tonight. Sarah and I arrived together in hers. If I’m out alone, I usually catch a lift with one of the guys, or I call a taxi.”

  An angry rage floods my body. I tamp it down. I’ve had anger issues since I was discharged from service, have had to learn to keep a lid on it as best I can but there’ll always be triggers. Such as now. This woman doesn’t need me going ballistic on her right now, but f-u-c-k. I realise she’s locked up in a world of hurt, but to be this careless with her personal safety makes me all kinds of pissed.

  I take a few calming breaths and start strolling towards my car. She follows, not saying another word. I open the passenger door and help her in. As our hands make contact, she glances up at me. Even after a bout of drinking and retching, she’s still fuckin’ beautiful. She brushes past my body as she gets up into the cab. I catch the scent of her perfume, of her unique bouquet. I swallow hard and release her hand. Get a grip, man.

  She barely speaks on the ride back to my unit, angling her tiny frame stiffly towards the passenger window. I finally speak into the tense silence, glancing across at her while I do.

  “I’m sorry I went off at you like that back at the bar, sweetheart, I was just concerned. A gorgeous young woman drinkin’ in a club of piss-ass drunk men is sure to get herself noticed, and not in a good way.” She sighs, still looking out the window.

  “No, I’m the one who is sorry, Dominic. I appreciate you getting rid of the guy who was hitting on me, and I shouldn’t have interfered with that...that ‘woman’ earlier. It wasn’t my place. I’m really sorry.” I reach over the space between us, and cover her hand with mine.

  “Don’t apologise, darlin’, we’re on an even score now, wouldn’t ya say?” The contact of my hand on hers causes her to flinch. She finally turns to look at me but doesn’t pull her hand away.

  “I suppose we are.” She shrugs, the smallest smile ghosting across her full lips.