A Broken Soul (The Pembrooke Series Book 3)

by Prince, Jessica

  Music and dancing was all I really had, so as long as my body allowed it, I was going to pour my anger and frustrations and pain out the only way I knew how.

  Quinn

  I WOKE WITH a start, jolted out of my recurring nightmare when all the air whooshed from my lungs. It took several seconds for the lingering dregs of the nightmare to let go of my conscious and for sleep to leave me all together, but once it did, I realized it wasn’t the dream that rendered me breathless.

  That was courtesy of my daughter and her flailing limbs.

  Once the nightmare finally released me all together, the pained sound of Addy’s voice was no longer at the forefront of my mind. I let out a heavy sigh and turned my head on the pillow to stare at my daughter as she slept next to me. I managed to find a smile as I watched her for a while. The only time I ever got to smile genuinely in the past three and a half years was when I looked at her. There was no sorrow on her soft, sleeping face, and there were times I couldn’t help but envy that. Some days I would have given anything to be free of the pain that always lingered in the recesses of my mind.

  That familiar ache in my heart, along with the lingering pain in my body thanks to the accident, was a constant reminder of everything I’d lost. It was a reminder that my world had stopped, and to this day still hadn’t fully started back up again.

  More than my body broke the night I lost Addy. My heart, my mind, and my soul were still in tatters, and if it hadn’t been for the sleeping girl next to me, I had no doubt I would have let the pain swallow me whole.

  Sophia rolled again in her sleep and I barely managed to catch her arm before she caught me in the jaw. One of the downsides of having a six-year-old who crawled into your bed in the middle of the night was the physical beating I took on a regular basis. My girl tossed and turned like nobody’s business.

  A glance at the clock on the bedside table showed I had enough time to get a quick shower in before having to get Soph up and ready for school. I flung the covers back and threw my legs over the side of the bed, resting my elbows on my knees and scrubbing the last bit of sleep from my face. Just as I did every morning, I gave myself a few extra moments to gaze at the picture sitting on my nightstand, reaching over and running the tip of my finger along the cool glass that set over Addison’s smiling face. “Morning, baby,” I whispered into the silent room before forcing myself from the bed and into the bathroom.

  Showering and dressing in my PFD uniform in record time, I opened the bathroom door and reentered the bedroom.

  I flipped on the overhead light and pulled the covers to the foot of the bed. “All right, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up.”

  Sophia let out a small mewl of protest and pulled one of the pillows over her head to block out the light.

  “Uh uh,” I chuckled, coming to sit on the mattress next to her. “None of that now.” I moved the pillow off her head and tossed it far enough away she couldn’t reach it. “Ten minutes, squirt, or you go to school without breakfast.”

  She let out a grunt but sat up, her mass of blonde hair in tangles all around her head, standing on end. Like a zombie, she climbed off the bed and moved toward the bathroom off the hallway. When I heard the sink cut on, I took that cue and headed into the kitchen to start breakfast.

  Sophia joined me ten minutes later, dressed for school. She climbed onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island just as I slid the last pancake onto her plate.

  “Teeth brushed?”

  “Uh huh,” she mumbled, still not fully awake.

  One corner of my mouth kicked up in a grin as she rested her elbow on the counter, propped her chin in her hand, and watched as I cut up her pancakes and slathered them in syrup. “You do a good job or just run the brush over them a few times?”

  “I did good,” she answered, then forked a heaping bite of pancakes into her mouth. “Wanna smell my breath?” she asked around the food.

  “I’ll pass. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “You asked,” she shrugged before turning back to her food. There weren’t many dishes I could cook well —Addy was always the cook in our household — but my girl loved her old man’s pancakes. It was one of the few meals I didn’t have to bribe her into eating. It was either bribe her with a few extra minutes on her iPad or a knockdown drag-out fight, and on the evenings I was home from the fire department, I was usually too exhausted to fight. Needless to say, my daughter was better at using her iPad than I was, and we ate a lot of pancakes. Much to my own mother’s displeasure.

  “Daddy?”

  I finished my sip of coffee and looked up from the news site I was scrolling through on my phone as I stood across from her. “Yeah, Angel?”

  “Can I be a ballerina?”

  My brow quirked up as I studied my little girl. “A ballerina?”

  “Uh huh,” she nodded enthusiastically. “Yesterday, at school, Missy Davenport was talkin’ about how she takes classes to be a ballerina. She said she gets to wear pink tutus and dance around on her tippy toes in these special shoes with ribbons on ‘em. I wanna wear tutus and ribbons. Can I, Daddy? Pleeeeeease?”

  Fuck, but I was screwed. Telling my daughter no was never something I’d been good at. When Addison was alive, she’d been the firm one, while I was wrapped around my little girl’s finger. Now that I didn’t have Addy to run interference, it had only gotten worse.

  “But I thought you wanted to be a firefighter like your dad?”

  Her little face scrunched up like she smelled something bad. “That’s for boys, Daddy.”

  My eyes went wide as I stared down at the little girl who, just last week, declared she wanted to fight fires like her old man. “That’s not what you said a few days ago.” Why I felt the need to argue with a six-year-old was beyond me, but her sudden change of tune made me feel somewhat less important. It was ridiculous, really, but knowing I was my daughter’s hero, to the point where she wanted to be just like me, was a huge ego boost. Losing that — for something as girly as ballet, felt like a slap in the face.

  She shrugged casually as she ate the last bite of her breakfast. “I changed my mind. Now I wanna be a ballerina. Can I? Pretty please?”

  Christ, those blue puppy-dog eyes, combined with the way her bottom lip jutted out in a pout just about did me in.

  “We can go to the dance school next to where we always eat dinner! You can sign me up and I can start tomorrow!”

  After draining the last of my coffee, I put the cup in the sink and circled around the island, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “I’ll think about it. Now go get your backpack. We’re going to be late.”

  Sophia hopped off the stool and bolted from the kitchen.

  A ballerina. Addy would have been ecstatic. When we found out we were having a little girl, she went on and on about putting her in dance class and gymnastics, and all those girly things.

  It was times like this that I missed her the most. Not only because I loved her and wanted her back, but because she wasn’t there to teach our daughter how to grow up into a woman.

  And just like every day for the past three and a half years, I was eaten up by the overwhelming fear that I was going to do something that would irreparably damage the only person I had left.

  Most days I didn’t have a goddamned clue what I was doing. I was alone and drowning.

  All I could do was hold on to the hope that I’d find my footing. I’d eventually wade out of the murky waters and feel that confidence as a father I had when I was part of a team.

  Until that day came, all I could do was fake it and hope I didn’t screw up along the way.

  WITH SOPHIA AT school and thirty minutes before my shift was set to start, I pointed my truck toward Sinful Sweets, the town bakery-turned-restaurant that was co-owned by Eliza, my buddy Ethan’s wife, and her step mother Chloe. The place served great food, even better pastries, and out of this world coffee. The latter of the three being what I was needing the most.

  “Morning, Quin
n,” Chloe called out once I stepped inside. She ran the bakery side of Sinful Sweets and had been the original owner when it first opened back when I was a teenager.

  “Chloe,” I greeted, tipping my chin in her direction as I made my way to the counter.

  “The usual?” she asked, marker poised against a paper cup, ready to write my name on it as I made my way up to the counter.

  “Please. And a chocolate croissant to go as well.”

  “You got it.” Chloe set my cup under the espresso machine and began hitting buttons so it could work its magic, then moved to the pastry case for my breakfast. “So how’s sweet Sophia doing?”

  One corner of my mouth quirked up at the mention of my little girl. “She’s great. She just informed me this morning she wants to be a ballerina.”

  Chloe’s face lit up as she slid the bag with my croissant across the bar. “That’s adorable! You know, Lilly runs the studio next door.” At her words my gut clenched. But unbeknownst to the sudden turmoil I was suffering, she continued. “I have my girls enrolled there. She really is a fantastic teacher. You should think about signing Sophia up. I bet she’d love it.”

  I had no doubt she would. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that dance teacher in particular. I’d been back in Pembrooke for a little over two years now, and in that time I’d probably said a handful of words to Lilly Mathewson. And for good reason.

  The very first time I’d laid eyes on her was like getting hit by a truck. She’d been crossing Main Street as I drove down it, and at that very first glimpse I could have sworn I was seeing Addy. It took everything I had not to wreck my truck as my entire body turned to stone. It wasn’t until she turned and laughed at something someone on the sidewalk said to her that I realized I wasn’t staring at my wife. Where Addy’s eyes shimmered the brightest blue, this woman’s were a soft brown, and her left cheek dimpled as she smiled brightly.

  That initial sighting was a pre-cursor to what I’d felt each time I saw her. She was just too big a reminder of what I’d lost, and I had no clue how to act around her. The thought of having to have a one-on-one conversation with Lilly set me on edge in the most uncomfortable way. Unfortunately, it was either sign Sophia up with her or make the drive to Jackson Hole a half hour away every damn time she had a class.

  “Yeah,” I finally stated once I realized I’d been silent for too long. “I’ll be sure to check that out.” Reaching for my wallet in my back pocket, I pulled out a few bills and tossed them on the bar top just as Chloe placed my coffee down in front of me. “Thanks for this.” I lifted the cup in my hand in indication. “Have a great day.”

  “You too,” she returned with a smile just as I turned and headed for the door with coffee and pastry in hand. I reached my truck parked along the curb and set the cup on the hood so I could pull my keys out of my jacket when something from the corner of my eye caught my attention.

  It was still early enough that the sidewalks along Main weren’t crowded, giving me a perfect view into the studio next to Sinful Sweets, and what I saw through the window stole the breath right out of my lungs. Lilly was on the other side of the glass, dancing to a song I couldn’t hear.

  But it wasn’t the way she moved, her body as fluid as water, that captured my attention and held it for several long, painful seconds.

  No. It was the shattered expression on her face as she danced that called to me the most. It was the very same expression I wore daily for the past three and a half years. In that very instant I felt a kinship to the woman behind the glass, dancing like it was the only thing keeping her going.

  Jerking my gaze away from the window, I hit the button on the remote to unlock the door, grabbed my coffee, and climbed in, slamming the door behind me. I threw my truck in reverse with far more aggression than necessary and peeled out as fast as I could, because it was that feeling of kinship that scared me more than anything.

  Quinn

  “DADDY! DADDYDADDYDADDYDADDY!”

  I spun around on the sidewalk just as my heart dropped to the ground thinking that something terrible had happened to Sophia in the millisecond of time that had passed since we exited Sinful Sweets. That was the only reasonable explanation she’d have for screaming at the top of her lungs when I was a foot and a half away from her.

  “What?!” I shouted back frantically as I crouched down low to her level, my eyes scanning for injury. “What happened? What is it? Are you okay?”

  “Daddy, I wanna be a ballerina,” she stated casually, all the hysteria in her voice gone.

  “What?!” I barked, feeling like I’d just lost ten years off my life, all for nothing.

  She threw her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the dance school right next door. “Please, Daddy? Pleeeeease! It’s all I want in the whole wide world.”

  Fuck me, if she was already starting with the female melodramatics at age six, I was screwed as she got older. Standing tall and running a hand through my hair with a heavy sigh, I looked in the direction she was pointing. My heart rate kicked up to an uncomfortable level at the thought of having to go in there and have an actual talk to Lilly — something I’d avoided for two long years — but when I looked down into my little girl’s pleading eyes, I knew I couldn’t say no.

  It was totally irrational, this fear I had, but just looking at Lilly stirred something inside me that I would have rather left untapped.

  “All right,” I finally relented, earning a shrill scream of excitement as she jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

  “Let’s go! Let’s do it now!” Wrapping her little fingers around mine, she gave me a pull, and on slow feet, as though I was being dragged through wet cement, I followed after.

  The bell over the door chimed, announcing our presence, and the very first thing my eyes landed on was the pretty blonde standing at the front desk. She was wearing what I could only assume was standard dancing clothes. Unfortunately, the short, tight shorts and spaghetti strap top that clung to her like a second skin made me all too aware of just how amazing her body was.

  “Quinn,” Lilly started, her face a mask of surprise to see me standing before her. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

  I struggled to keep my expression blank, all the while, unwanted images of the woman before me filtered through my head on warp speed. I wanted to ask her what had her so upset last week, I wanted to know what had made those whiskey-colored eyes look so desolate as she danced that morning with tears streaking down her beautiful face. I wanted to push to find out what had happened in her life that made her look as broken as I felt.

  But I wouldn’t do any of that. We weren’t friends, and despite feeling a kindred spirit in her the other morning, I knew staying back was my only option. Because I was drawn to her in a way that was wrong on so many levels.

  Luckily, Sophia was so amped up she answered for me. “I wanna be a ballerina!”

  With one last quizzical glance in my direction, Lilly turned her sights on Sophia, bending forward and placing her hands on her knees. “You do?” she asked with a brilliant smile that made my stomach tighten. Sophia nodded eagerly. “Well you’re in luck. You’ve come to the right place, because I love turning pretty little girls into ballerinas.”

  Sophia looked at her in wide-eyed wonder and asked on a breath, “You do?”

  “Uh huh. Tell you what, why don’t you peek through that window right over there,” she pointed to one of the closed doors off the main corridor, “and watch that class for a bit while I talk to your dad about getting you all signed up.”

  “Is that a ballerina class?”

  Lilly gave a light giggle and I swear to fucking God, I felt it in my gut. “No. That’s a hip-hop class. My girl Samantha teaches it.”

  Sophia took off in that direction, and the much needed buffer between me and Lilly disappeared.

  “How have you been?” she turned back to me and asked, like we were long-time friends. I couldn’t really blame her, we knew each other by association consi
dering our friends were married to each other.

  I opened my mouth to reply but stopped myself, thinking the best option was to keep my answers short and sweet, to the point to move this along so I could get the hell out of there, I simply stated, “Good. Busy.”

  One of her eyebrows quirked up. “Have you talked to Ethan lately? Eliza said it’s been a pretty brutal season so far.”

  “Nope.” That was a lie. I’d talked to Ethan just the other night, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Uh...” She looked off to the side like she was trying to think of something, anything she could say to break through my animatronic behavior. “How are things at the fire department?”

  “Fine.”

  She let out a small, defeated sigh, and I knew she’d finally given up on small-talk and was resigned to getting down to business. Christ, why did she have to be so goddamn pretty? And why the fuck did she have to remind me of Addison? “So, has Sophia ever been in dance class before?”

  “No.” And I was willing to admit that my tone came out gruffer than I had intended.

  Her head jerked back just a bit, and I knew she read the tension in my voice. “Well that’s all right. We have beginner, intermediate, and advanced level classes for every style. We could put Sophia in the beginner class to start with to gauge her skill level. If need be, she’ll stay there until it’s time for her to advance to the next class. We have three teachers here. I handle the Classic Style classes. Samantha teaches the Street Style ones, and Kyle handles our Latin Ballroom and Jazz.”

  It was like she was speaking in a different language. “I don’t know what any of that means. I just need to enroll her in the beginner’s ballet class. I don’t really care about any of the other stuff.” Yes, I sounded like an asshole. I was well aware of that, but I couldn’t help it. It was like I didn’t know how to fucking function around her. I forgot how to behave like a normal member of society.