A Broken Soul (The Pembrooke Series Book 3)

by Prince, Jessica

  A Broken Soul

  Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Prince

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at www.authorjessicaprince.com

  Cover & Interior Design: Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction

  Model Photo: Perrywinkle Photography

  Models: Brittney & Jace

  Editor: Erin Garcia

  Proofing: Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction & Jennifer Van Wyk, JaVa Editing

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Front Matter

  Playlist

  Other books by Jessica

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Find Jessica at

  I’VE NEVER INCLUDED a playlist with one of my books before, but because of Lilly’s background in dance, and her need to use it as an escape, these particular songs were crucial in helping me set the scene. I listened to them on repeat for days on end. Not only did they help me get the right emotion across, but they’re also seriously kick-ass songs!! Check out my Spotify playlist here.

  Spotify

  “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac

  “Way Down We Go” by Kaleo

  “Gods & Monsters” by Lana Del Rey

  “Unsteady” by X Ambassadors

  THE PICKING UP THE PIECES SERIES:

  Picking up the Pieces

  Rising from the Ashes

  Pushing the Boundaries

  Worth the Wait

  THE COLORS NOVELS:

  Scattered Colors

  Shrinking Violet

  Love Hate Relationship

  Wildflower

  THE LOCKLAINE BOYS (a LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP spinoff):

  Fire and Ice – Griffin and Pepper’s story

  Opposites Attract – Richard and Delilah’s story

  Almost Perfect – Collin and Devon’s story

  THE PEMBROOKE SERIES (a WILDFLOWER spinoff):

  Sweet Sunshine – Derrick and Chloe’s story

  Coming Full Circle – Ethan and Eliza’s story

  A Broken Soul – Quinn and Lilly’s story

  DEADLY LOVE SERIES:

  Destructive

  Addictive

  Obsessive (coming 2017)

  OTHER TITLES:

  Nightmares from Within

  Chance Encounters (coming April 2017)

  CO-WRITTEN BOOKS:

  Hustler – with Meghan Quinn

  Quinn

  “SO, WHAT? YOU’RE not talking to me now?”

  At the sound of Addison’s soft, sad voice I felt my white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel begin to loosen. Tonight was supposed to be special, memorable. But instead of a romantic dinner with my wife, we ended up arguing. I went silent, turning into the brooding, moody asshole I knew I could be when I was upset, and in return, she got upset, never liking it when I lost myself in my own head.

  “How long are you going to give me the silent treatment this time, Quinn?”

  I sighed and took my eyes off the dark, rain-slick road for just a moment. Addison’s gorgeous blue eyes glimmered in the lights coming off the dashboard, and just like every goddamn time I looked at her, a rush of undeniable love enveloped me. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment, baby. I just don’t understand why you won’t even think about it.”

  “Because I’m not ready,” she stated, turning her beautiful face away and staring out the windshield. “I love you, Quinn, you know that. You’re the love of my life—”

  “And you’re mine,” I interrupted. “That’s why I want to try for another baby. Sophia’s getting older now. Don’t you think she’d want a little brother or sister?” Taking one hand off the wheel, I reached over and laid my palm on top of Addy’s clenched fist. As always, the tension melted away and her grip loosened, allowing me to thread my fingers through hers and hold her hand tightly. That was just one of the many great things about our marriage. Even when we were arguing, we couldn’t help but show each other unconditional love. “We’ve always talked about having a big family. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “I do! I want a big family like we talked about. Just… maybe not right at this minute,” she stated hesitantly. “We’re still young, Quinn. We have years ahead of us. Can’t we just enjoy what we’ve got right now?”

  My shoulders tensed and my back went straight as I stared out the windshield, the headlights casting a glow along the dark, tree-lined road. Anxiety began to claw at my insides at the thought that Addison could possibly have any regrets in our life together. “What are you saying?” My voice was hard when I spoke. “Do you wish we’d waited?”

  “No!” From the corner of my eye I saw Addy turn in her seat, fully facing me as she held on to my hand with both of hers. “No, not at all! Quinn, I love our life. I love you and Sophia more than anything. But we’re still young. I want to enjoy our time together, just the three of us, for a little while longer before we start filling our house full of kids. That’s all. But I do want to fill our house full of kids, I swear.”

  Even though her words helped to ease my worries, I still needed to be positive. “You sure?”

  Her voice went low as she leaned across the console and pressed her lips against my ear. “Absolutely.” Christ, I loved when her voice got husky like that. I felt myself getting hard behind the zipper of my slacks as thoughts of what I’d do to her when we got home began to run through my mind. “And in the meantime, I think we should practice…” Her teeth grazed my neck, sending sparks of pleasure through my body. “A lot. Starting tonight. Sophia’s with my parents and we have the whole house to ourselves. I think we should practice in as many rooms as possible. Starting with the kitchen.”

  I groaned, struggling to stop my eyes from rolling back in my head as her hand slid down my chest and between my thighs. “Christ, I love you,” I grunted.

  She giggled into my ear. “I love you too, Quinn. More than anything. Drive faster.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice. My foot began to press on the accelerator, and I warned, “As much as I love what you’re doing baby, you want to make it home in one piece to live out that kitchen fantasy, I suggest you stop.”

&nb
sp; Addy’s laughter when she sat back in her seat warmed my chest. I loved when she laughed, it was one of the best sounds in the world. Second only to the sound of our daughter calling me Daddy. For the millionth time since Addison came into my life, I thought to myself that I was the luckiest bastard in the world.

  Glad that we’d moved past the tense conversation from earlier and we were back to normal, I turned and smiled at my wife. “Love you, sweetheart.” Grabbing her hand again, I lifted it and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. She smiled brightly back at me.

  “Love you too.” Her gaze turned back to the windshield and her eyes got big just seconds before she shouted, “Quinn, watch out!”

  I jerked back just in time to see a deer standing in the middle of the road. On instinct, I slammed on the brakes. Addison’s scream echoed through my head as the car began to spin out on the slick roads.

  Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as we spun out of control. The screams were replaced by the sound of crunching metal as the car came to such a bone-jarring halt that my head bashed into the driver-side window, causing stars to burst before my eyes.

  It felt like an eternity passed before my cloudy vision cleared and the ringing in my ears finally stopped. “Addy, baby…” I groaned in pain, the sound of my own voice ricocheting through my skull, making it feel like my head was about to explode.

  She didn’t answer. Pain gave way to hysteria when I looked toward the passenger seat at my wife’s unmoving body. “Addison! Addy, baby, wake up!”

  Ignoring the bolts of agony slicing through my body, I struggled against the seatbelt, futilely. “Addy! WAKE UP!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, fighting in vain to try and get to her. “Help! Somebody help us! Baby, please wake up. Don’t leave me, Addy! Please, don’t leave me!” I turned my head, frantically, hoping to see the headlights of an oncoming car while I continued to shout. “Someone help us! Please!”

  My screams gave way to sobs as I tried so desperately to get to my wife. “Please, baby. Please.” My voice cracked and I reached out, straining with all my strength, but I couldn’t get to her.

  People say that your life flashes before your eyes in near death experiences, but that wasn’t what happened to me.

  Time slowed to a crawl. An unbearable, anguished crawl, until it finally…

  Just stopped.

  Lilly

  STARING UP AT the ceiling fan, I counted each rotation of the blades as I watched them go round and round, hoping the repeated motion would help to shut my tired brain down. Sadly, it was pointless. There wasn’t anything that could calm my mind enough for sleep to take hold.

  I couldn’t turn any of it off. And what was worse, there was no one I could talk to about it. My best friend, the one and only real friend I ever had, was with her husband in Denver where they had their second home during the football season so they could be together while he played.

  I missed her like crazy during the months she was gone, but that did nothing to take away from the happiness I felt that she was finally with the only man she’d ever loved.

  Unfortunately for me, I was going through something in my life. Something so heavy I wasn’t sure I could bear the weight all on my own, and the only sounding board I’d ever had was gone. And telling Eliza over the phone that my father was dying and there was nothing that could be done about it wouldn’t have done me any good. Not when I needed someone to lean on when I broke down in tears, not when I needed a designated driver to make a store run when I drowned my sorrows in every bottle of wine I owned and was in desperate need of more.

  No, I couldn’t have that conversation over the phone. And even though I knew she’d be a rock for me, I couldn’t bring myself to pour out the painful emotions rolling around inside of me on my mother. She was suffering enough as it was, knowing she only had, at best, a handful of months with the man she’d loved for as long as she could remember.

  I finally gave up on sleep, but once I did, the conversation I’d had with my parents earlier that day wormed its way to the forefront of my mind.

  I thought it was business as usual when my mother called asking me to make the drive from Pembrooke to Jackson Hole for dinner. It wasn’t a far drive, honestly, but I was usually so busy with the dance studio that it was hard finding the time to see them on a regular basis. That was why we scheduled dinner together at their house at least twice a month.

  I should have known something was wrong when my mother called a week early and requested I come, claiming that she and my father had something they needed to discuss with me. But I was so wrapped up in everything I still needed to do before I began gearing up for the Winter Showcase, I didn’t stop to think how odd of a request it really was.

  They knew how time consuming running my own business was, and weren’t ones to ever make requests like that. I should have known. I should have paid attention to something other than myself. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. Maybe if I’d have been around more, paid more attention to my father’s declining health, I could have done something, like force him to stop being so stubborn and go to the doctor before it was too late.

  But I didn’t. And now I had to suffer the consequences.

  “Prostate cancer? What are you talking about? You can’t have cancer,” I declared in disbelief. There was no way my father was sick. Cancer was something that happened to other families, not mine. And with the exception of the past six months or so, my father had always been the epitome of good health.

  My mother made a soft noise, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off my father’s earnest expression. If I saw my mother crying, I knew I’d lose it. And it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

  “Sweetheart—” he started, but I wouldn’t let him finish. I couldn’t. Because that would make what he was saying a reality.

  “No. No! You don’t have cancer. That’s not possible. You need to go get a second opinion.”

  Dad’s hand came to rest on top of my clenched fist where it was resting on the wooden table and squeezed. “Lilly Flower, I’ve already been to three different doctors. I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but it’s true.”

  I pulled in a large breath and worked to get a hold of the tears that wanted to fall. “Okay,” I finally replied on an exhale. “All right. So we’ll talk to them about treatment. Maybe you can do chemotherapy or radiation or something. There has to be something they can do. You can beat this, right?”

  “Oh honey.” My mom’s voice broke as she pushed her chair back and came toward me, leaning down and wrapping her arms around me from behind to hold me as Dad shook his head in defeat.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “Don’t say that!” I shouted, finally losing the battle and letting the tears slide down my cheeks. “You can fight this, Daddy. You’re the strongest man I know!”

  My father’s eyes grew red-rimmed as he swallowed audibly. Mom’s hold loosened as she moved around me and crouched beside my chair. “The cancer had already spread by the time they found it. Treatment would give your father a little more time, honey, but that’s it, maybe a few extra months if we were lucky. The quality of life wouldn’t be worth it. The chemo would be intense and would make him so sick most of the time those few extra months wouldn’t count for much anyway.”

  “But—” I had to force that one word past the golf-ball-sized lump in my throat.

  “I don’t want you to remember me like that, Lilly Flower. I don’t want your last memory of me being this sickly, bedridden man with no hair. I want to go out like I’ve lived. On my own terms. Please tell me you understand.”

  What could I possibly say to that? My father looked resigned to his fate, but still scared at the same time. I wasn’t lying when I said he was the strongest man I knew. He was. But I could see the fear in his eyes. And I refused to do or say anything that could cause him any more pain.

  Just as he had my entire life, Dad realized what I was about to do before I did it and stood, braced for impact as I moved from my chair and launched m
yself into his waiting arms. “I understand,” I cried into his chest, because I did. I understood him not wanting to go through a grueling treatment for a chance at a few short measly months that wasn’t even a guarantee.

  I didn’t like it, but I understood.

  And as I stood there, letting my father’s button-down shirt soak up my tears and I memorized his spicy, woodsy scent, a scent I’d known since childhood, I let reality wash over me.

  I was going to lose my father far too soon.

  Squeezing my eyes closed against the fresh onslaught of tears that threatened, I inhaled deeply through my nose then blew it out slowly before sitting up in my bed. It was only four in the morning, but I knew of only one thing that would temporarily allow my mind to stop swirling around. It had been my escape since I was a little girl. And now, more than ever, I needed to lose myself.

  Letting the light of the moon shining through my bedroom window guide me, I brushed my teeth and threw my hair up in a messy bun on the top of my head before dressing in a pair of black dance shorts and a tight burgundy cami. With my iPhone in hand, I crept through my dark apartment and took the stairs that would lead to my dance studio below.

  I needed my music. I needed dancing to wash away the sadness that filled my veins.

  Hooking my phone up to the dock I kept down in the main studio, I scrolled through my playlists. When the opening beat of Kaleo’s “Way Down We Go” started playing, I began to move, letting my body take over. I danced until one song bled into another, until sweat poured down my face and my muscles screamed from the exertion. I danced until the minutes ticked into hours and my mind cleared of every thought except executing the next turn or leap; until the darkness outside the window of the main studio was forced from the sky by the early morning sun.

  My mind remained calm for the first time in twelve hours, but the reminder of everything that was happening was still there, and the dull ache in my chest hadn’t disappeared completely. As the song on my iPhone changed, the music becoming softer and sadder, I finally allowed myself to let it all out. I cried for my father and what he was going through. I cried for myself at what I was going to lose. I cried because for the first time in a really long time I was reminded of just how lonely I was. I cried because there was no one I could lean on to share my burden.