by Megan Lowe
Breaking the Cycle © 2016 by Megan Lowe
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Breaking the Cycle is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.
www.hottreepublishing.com
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Designer: Claire Smith
ISBN: 978-1-925448-17-7
Glossary
Dedication
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
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Glossary
Breaking the Cycle is written in Australian English and has a colourful collection of colloquialisms and slang. Enjoy discovering some new and wonderful terms.
Saos: A delicious savoury cracker biscuit. Great with cheese or Vegemite.
Profiteroles: Mouth-watery dessert. A profiterole, is a filled French pâte à choux pastry ball with a typically sweet and moist filling of whipped cream, custard, pastry cream, or ice cream
Op Shop: Short for opportunity store. Aussie version of a charity shop or thrift store.
Firies: A firefighter
360: AFL 360 is an Australian football talk show.
Boot: Nope. This is no shoe. A boot is the US equivalent of a car trunk.
Roo: Nick Riewoldt, an Australian rules footballer.
Arvo: Short for afternoon.
Speccy: Also known as ‘specky’ and ‘speckie.’ To look and spectate.
Mark: A skill in football where a player catches a kicked ball that has travelled more than fifteen metres without anyone else touching it or the ball hitting the ground.
Dedication
To the people who come into our lives, enter our hearts and never leave; for the family we choose, and those we don’t. I love you all.
Chapter One
BRIA
I’ve been on the go all day and am starving. Having been to Wheels a few times, especially when I’m too lazy to cook after my shift at the supermarket across the road, I'm no stranger to popping in to grab a burger. They are to die for after all. Okay, so maybe I’ve been here more than a few times. A few times a week possibly. The girls at uni rave about the hot men who hang out here, but whenever I come in, they’re always all over the more scantily-clad girls, who call themselves students, but I doubt they’ve ever seen the inside of a lecture theatre. Not that I’m jealous. Trust me, given the opportunity, no one chooses the girl in the Coles supermarket uniform over a girl wearing a few scraps of fabric.
Besides, manwhore isn’t my type. I see them come into work to buy condoms. Of course, they never stop and talk to me. Instead, they just give me a smile and continue on their way with the swagger so many of them seem to have.
Walking in, Wheels looks like any other diner, albeit a bit larger, with a bar to the right and a huge dining area with an open window into the kitchen to the left. I’ve managed to miss the dinner rush, so there’s no one else here. This isn't unusual since it's a Wednesday night and this isn’t a big town. Booker is a glorified uni town, three hours east of Melbourne and an hour and a half from the coast. It’s quaint and quiet and the perfect setting for someone to focus on their studies.
I take a seat in one of the booths along the front wall and before long, I’m greeted by two of the cutest men I think I’ve ever seen.
“Hello, my name is Christian. Welcome to Wheels. I’ll be your server tonight,” the smaller of the two greets.
At three feet, he can barely see over the table but I can see enough of his face to glimpse dimples, one on either side of his face, deep brown eyes, and a messy mop of dark brown hair.
I smile at his professionalism. “Thank you, Christian.”
He smiles back at me. “What would you like dis evening?”
Steepling my fingers and resting my chin on my hands, I ask with mock seriousness, “I’m not sure. What would you recommend?”
He scrambles up on the seat beside me with excitement in his eyes and begins pointing at the menu. Behind him, the other half of the cute duo chuckles quietly. At what I guess is at least six feet two and solidly built, he runs his hand through his head of longish brown hair, the movement exposing glimpses of ink on his arms that have been covered by a black-and-white long-sleeved baseball tee, stretched over an impressive chest.
“So is dat what you want?” Christian’s voice interrupts my reverie.
“I’m-I’m sorry?” I stutter, and the god behind Christian chuckles again and I blush. He looks up at me and his green eyes make me gasp.
“Uncle Reed!” Christian whines.
“What’s up, buddy?” the god, Reed, says.
“You said da next pretty girl was mine!”
“What?” I ask as Reed chuckles again and holds up his hands.
“I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You were! You were doing dat eye thing again!”
“Eye thing, huh?” I ask Christian.
“Yeah, he gives all da pretty girls dis look and dey go all mushy.”
“They do, do they?” I glare at Reed, who holds his hands up again.
“Yes.” Christian huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Well here,”—I take one of Christian’s hands, point his finger, and poke it into my chest—“does that feel mushy to you?”
His eyes go wide at his finger being near my modest C-cups and he shakes his head earnestly.
“See? So not every girl goes mushy.”
“I also never copped a feel within two minutes of meeting a girl, but hey,” Reed mumbles.
“But he did do da eye thing,
” Christian accuses.
“Maybe, but it didn’t work. I only have eyes for the man sitting next to me.” I nudge his shoulder gently.
“Really?” he asks in awe.
“Absolutely,” I reply solemnly. “So tell me, handsome, are you single?”
“All right, all right, that’s enough of corrupting my nephew for one night,” Reed says as he picks Christian up and sets him down facing in the direction of the kitchen. “Go see your dad, buddy.”
“Okay. Bye, girlfriend,” Christian shouts to me as he toddles off.
“Damn kid. He was supposed to be my wingman. Instead, he snags the girl himself.”
“And who says I would’ve gone for you anyway?” I ask, crossing my arms and leaning back against the booth.
“Don’t be like that, angel. You and me, we’re going to be great.”
“We are, are we?”
“A romance for the ages.”
“Does that mean you’re going to woo me, Reed?” I mock purr.
“Whatever you want, angel.”
“In that case, I’ll take a bacon cheeseburger with onion rings and a caramel shake, thanks.”
He clutches his chest as if I’ve shot him. “That’s cold, baby.”
“And so is you standing here, flirting with me without even asking for my name.”
“I don’t need a name, baby. To me you’ll always be my angel.”
“Oh God,” I scoff. “Please tell me that line doesn’t actually work?”
“I dunno.” He shrugs. “I’ve never tried it before, so let me know. Your food will be ready soon.” He winks before sauntering off towards the kitchen.
I have to admit, I hide a bit of a smile as he walks away.
Christian has only just come bounding out of the kitchen again with a bundle of cutlery in his hand when the back door bursts open. He freezes amid the shouts coming from the kitchen. I react immediately and am almost to him when a pot comes flying out of the window to the kitchen. I rush the last few metres, scoop him up, and rush back to my booth on the opposite side of the diner. He’s shaking in my arms.
“Hey, shh, it’s okay,” I coo, rocking from side to side.
Through the window, I can see Reed and three guys going at it. One looks similar to him and I assume he’s Christian’s dad. The fists are flying fast and heavy, with the occasional kitchen utensil flying through the air. I move Christian under the table with me.
“I don’t like dose guys,” he says. “Dey’re mean.”
“You know them?”
“Dey’re our rivals.”
“Rivals?” I'm so confused by the rush of activity and the strangeness of his answer.
“My daddy, Uncle Reed, and my other uncles ride bikes, all sorts of bikes, and dey’re da best. Dose guys don’t like dem.”
“Your dad and uncles ride bikes?”
“Yep. Dey’re really good too. When I grow up, I want to ride bikes just like dem. My pop and my pa rided bikes too.”
“Jesus, how many men are in this family?” I mutter under my breath.
“We’re all men,” Christian says proudly.
“Yeah? What about your mum?”
“She died, just like my ma and my nan. Dey’re all in heaven.”
“Oh, buddy, I’m so sorry.” Instinctively, I squeeze him tighter in my lap.
“It’s okay. My dad and uncles and pa and pop look after me.”
“How many uncles do you have?” If they’re anything like Reed or the glimpses of Christian’s dad, that’s one hell of a gene pool. While I've seen plenty of guys around this place before, I have no idea who's related to whom.
“Dis many.” He holds up four fingers. “Uncle Reed, Uncle Liam, Uncle Mav, and Uncle Jax.”
Above us, the window shatters.
My heart stutters, my hands shaking as I hide Christian's view from the craziness going on around me. I've never seen or known anything like this to happen before. We cower down even more and listen as more windows are busted. With each break, Christian whimpers and buries himself into my neck.
A few minutes later, I hear the back door slam and a frantic voice. “Christian! Chris! Where are you, buddy?”
“He’s under the middle booth with me,” I call, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.
There’s glass all over the place, so I don’t want to try and slide out from underneath the table with Christian clinging to me.
A grown-up version of Christian sticks his head under the table, his lip split and a cut over his eye not able to mask his concern for his son. I recognise him as a regular.
“Chris,” he breathes, reaching for the boy.
“Daddy!” Christian squeals and scrambles into his arms.
“Careful of the glass, buddy,” I say, helping him get to his god-like father.
“Thank you,” the hunky god says, looking at me somewhat curiously.
“No worries. I couldn’t leave my boyfriend at the mercy of those thugs.” I smile and offer Christian a wink, trying to cut through the heavy tension. It also helps to dissolve my own pounding fear.
“Boyfriend?”
“Yeah, Chris snagged the angel,” Reed’s voice says.
I make my way out from underneath the table and am immediately set upon by Reed as I straighten. His hands come up to cup my cheeks, his eyes boring into mine, concern written all over his face. Electricity zaps through my body on contact and a sense of calm and peace washes over me.
“You okay, angel?” he asks.
“I’m fine, but you’re not.” My voice shakes once more, but this time because of the feel of his skin against mine. He has blood dripping from his nose and a bruise on his jaw.
“So, angel, or daughter-in-law to be,” the god says, “you have a name?”
I smile, and not breaking eye contact with Reed I introduce myself. “Bria Marie Adams.”
Reed smiles and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. More electricity zaps through me.
“Angel,” he whispers as we break apart.
“Nice to meet you, Bria Marie Adams." His voice is light and jokey as he mimics the use of my middle name when he introduces himself. "I’m Parker Nathaniel Ryan. You’ve met my son, Christian Nolan Ryan, and that’s my brother Reed Cooper Ryan,” Parker introduces.
“Nice to meet you, Ryans,” I say as Reed releases my face but slings an arm around my waist. I surprise myself by leaning into him. With my adrenaline finally calming, I need the support of his comforting touch.
“Seriously, Bria, I can’t thank you enough for looking out for Chris.”
“It was no problem. Like I said, I couldn’t leave my boyfriend at the mercy of those thugs.” I tap Chris’s nose.
“Yeah, about that—” Parker begins before Chris interrupts.
“You’re bleeding, Daddy.”
“Huh?”
“You’re bleeding.” Christian lightly touches his lip.
“Here, give me Chris and you two can get cleaned up,” I offer.
“Chris?” Parker asks.
“Come on, boyfriend,” I say, extending my arms to Chris. “Let’s let Daddy and Uncle Reed get cleaned up.” Without a backwards glance, Christian leaps from Parker’s arms to mine.
“Go on, get cleaned up. We’ll be right out here,” I say.
Reed smiles before turning and heading to the restroom. Parker lingers before reluctantly following his brother. I understand his reluctance, especially after all that's just transpired, but Chris seeing his dad's bloody lip can't be a good thing.
“My uncle likes you,” Christian says as I walk us over to the bar area, since it seems to be the most free of glass.
I chuckle. “I’m sure your uncle likes a lot of girls.”
“Yeah, but you’re different. I can tell.”
“Oh, you can tell, can you?”
“Yep,” he replies confidently.
I jump, clutching my chest when two older men burst into the diner. From the looks of them, they’re obviously related to Par
ker, Reed, and Christian.
One of the men rushes to the kitchen before moving on to the restrooms while the other stops to survey the damage. Finally, his gaze comes to me and Chris, who has hidden his face in my neck at the sudden arrival.
“Sorry, miss, as you can see we’re closed. We’re in a bit of a state at the moment. I’m afraid you and your son will have to go elsewhere,” he says. He’s of similar height to Reed, six one or six two, but with grey running through his black hair and age written all over his face and in his green eyes.
“Actually, I believe this is your grandson.”
“Chris?” he asks. The little boy’s face is still buried in my neck. I rock side to side and pat his back gently, nodding at the older Ryan.
“Great-grandson. I’m Jay, by the way.”
“Bria. I’m looking after him while Parker and Reed clean themselves up.”
“Oh.” He rubs his face. With concern evident in his heavy sigh, his gaze flicks on me and then Chris.
“Is there a problem, apart from the obvious?” He seems reluctant to leave Chris with me. Okay sure, I’m a stranger, but considering the situation and that I'm only trying to help, I would have hoped that would be enough to ease any of their concern.
“To Chris you might be.”
My brows dip in confusion. “What? I’d never—”
“It’s nothing against you personally. The fact Chris has taken to you like he has speaks volumes. Usually he’s a bit uneasy around women. Stems from issues with his mother.”
“He told me she died.”
Jay nods and looks at Christian, who’s now fast asleep, clinging to my neck tightly. It seems the anxiety of the last few minutes took its toll pretty quickly.
Jay takes a seat across from me. “To say Emma was a mess would be putting it lightly. The girl was a disaster and if not for the fact she gave birth to my great-grandson there, I’d say a waste of perfectly good air, but it’s rude to speak ill of the dead.”
Initially, I have no idea how to respond. The information seems way too personal to be shared with a stranger. Yeah, I've been in the diner a fair bit, and maybe they recognise my face, but that's it. I'm tempted to nod, hand over Chris and run for the hills, but I'm pretty sure my wobbly legs won't allow that to happen.