Heartache

by Danielle Allen

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Heartache

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  The Next Two Month

  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

  April

  May

  June

  July

  August

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue: Bonus Scene

  Heartache Playlist

  Back to Life by Danielle Allen

  Acknowledgements

  Heartache

  a novel

  Danielle Allen

  Copyright

  © 2014 by Danielle Allen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, pirating, or by an information storage and retrieval system - except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or - without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editor/Proofreader: Editing by C. Marie

  Cover Design: Bookfabulous Designs

  Photo Credit: Andrei Vishnyakov of Vishnyakov.Pro

  Formatting: CP Smith

  Dedication

  Dedicated to everyone who has purchased a Danielle Allen novel.

  Your support means the world to me.

  Heartache

  heart·ache

  /härd-āk/

  noun

  noun: heartache; plural noun: heartaches

  emotional anguish or grief, typically caused by the loss or absence of someone loved.

  synonyms: anguish, grief, suffering, distress, unhappiness, misery, sorrow, sadness, heartbreak, via dolorosa, pain, hurt, agony, angst, despondency, despair, woe, desolation

  Chapter One

  I stifled a yawn as I rolled over in bed and shut off my alarm clock. The sun hadn’t yet risen and my body was exhausted, but I needed to go for a run. I needed to shake off the nightmare. I groaned as I stretched my naked body across my king sized bed before throwing the white sheets off of me.

  Pulling on an old t-shirt, jogging pants, and sneakers, I grabbed my orange hoodie and rushed down the stairs. As soon as I opened the door, the cold Virginia air stopped me in my tracks. After slipping the hoodie over my head, I rubbed my hands together to generate some heat before taking off.

  Jogging down the street, I inhaled and exhaled easily, despite the chill in the air biting my lungs. With each step, my body warmed up and my mind became clearer. When I got to the park at the end of the street, I took off running around the paved three-mile trail. As my feet hit the pavement, I didn’t think about anything or anyone. Pumping my legs faster, I focused entirely on the ache I felt in my muscles and the burn I felt in my lungs.

  When I finished, I walked in a wide circle with my hands clasped on top of my head, trying to catch my breath. Sweat dripped from my forehead and I didn’t bother to wipe it. After my cool down, I turned to head back home when a blur of bright pink ran up to me.

  “Oh hey Roman,” Hannah chirped as she came to an abrupt stop right in front of me. “That was fast!”

  I shook my head slightly. Hannah Webb was sexy. Annoying as fuck, but sexy. She was a beach volleyball player and with her sun-kissed hair and tanned skin, she looked the part. But she was trouble.

  And not in the sexy way, I thought, eyeing her as I wiped sweat from my forehead.

  Reading people had always been one of my strengths and the vibe I got from Hannah wasn’t a good one. There was a hint of familiarity to her, but I just chalked it up to her reminding me of the girls I went to high school with. Recently relocating from California due to the shoulder injury that ended her volleyball career, Hannah had moved in with her parents somewhere in the neighborhood. Since the day we ran into each other on the trail a few weeks ago, she would creepily show up during my workouts and blatantly throw herself at me. She even attempted to sign up for the online class I was teaching in order to get my attention. Fortunately, the class was full.

  “How’s it going, Hannah?” I replied between bursts of air escaping my burning lungs. I tried to ignore the fact that she had unzipped her jacket in forty-degree weather to display her unreasonably low-cut sports bra.

  “I was just hoping you could help me with something,” she started, her voice dropping irritatingly close to baby talk levels. “The last time I ran, I pulled something right here.” She turned around and bent slightly at the waist, running her hand from just below her ass to the back of her knee. Looking at me over her shoulder, she continued, “Do you think you could help?”

  Resisting the urge to roll my eyes at the annoying babyish pitch of her voice, I shifted my position so she wasn’t directly in front of me. “I don’t think so, Hannah.”

  “If you could just massage it out, it would help.” She turned toward me, thrusting her breasts forward.

  She does not take no for an answer, I grumbled silently. I was used to aggressive women and I was usually able to charm my way out of unwanted attention.

  I liked to be alone and Hannah’s pushiness was getting on my last nerve and interrupting my solitude.

  I jogged around her as I said, “I have somewhere to be, but you should definitely get that checked out.”

  “Wait!” Hannah scrambled to catch up with me. She grabbed onto my arm and positioned herself in my path. Pressing her body against mine, she gave me a suggestive look. “We’ve run into each other every day for the last couple of weeks. Maybe that’s a sign that we should hang out outside of the park. We have a bunch of things in common.”

  Taking a step back, I put my hands on her shoulders to keep her from advancing forward. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hannah, but thank you for your generous offer,” I said gently.

  Maneuvering around her, I sprinted up to my townhouse and shut the door behind me. The comforting silence of an empty house enveloped me and I sighed. The two-bedroom townhouse wasn’t much, but it was mine and mine alone. I worked my ass off to afford it.

  Grabbing a banana and a bottle of water, I stood by the sink and gulped down the ice cold water between bites. Once my heart rate and breathing leveled out, I pushed off of the counter and climbed the stairs two at a time. I stripped as soon as I entered my bedroom, kicking my clothes in the general vicinity of the hamper. I barely paused as I kept walking to my deluxe master bathroom located in the back of the room. Before I crossed the threshold of the bathroom, my cell phone rang. Ignoring it, I got into the shower.

  The phone rang six more times as I scrubbed my body clean from the sweat, both from the run and the nightmares. Each time the phone rang, I felt myself being pulled out of my quiet solitude.

  “What do you want?” I growled aloud as I shut off the water, wrapped a white towel around my waist, and stalked to the nightstand where my phone was still charging.

  Very few people had my house phone number. With my family living in Cal
ifornia, I knew it wasn’t them because of the time difference. With Bianca, my friend and former teaching assistant, in Italy, I knew it wasn’t her. That only left one of three people: Bradley Simon, Malik Jones, or Monroe Daniels.

  Brad has standing DJ gigs on Sunday nights and he probably only went to sleep a couple of hours ago so it’s most likely not him. Malik hates Mondays and mornings as much as I hate talking on the phone so he wouldn’t be calling. That only leaves Monroe, I thought as I reached down to pick the phone up. Looking at the caller ID, I felt my eyebrows furrow in annoyance and concern. Six missed calls from Monroe Daniels at damn near six o’clock on a Monday morning.

  Monroe managed Art House, a large art space that offered workspace lofts for artists above the main floor. She handled inquiries for me and about seven or eight other artists who also rented space there. Rent was due at the beginning of the month and I’d paid through the rest of the year. Monroe never called for anything outside of tenant information so I felt a sense of dread as to what would make her call so many times in a row.

  Before I had a chance to debate over whether or not I would return the call immediately, my phone started ringing again.

  “Hello?” I answered, bracing myself for her to tell me the building had caught on fire and burned every single one of my paintings. That’s the way things usually worked out for me.

  “Finally!” Monroe yelled into the phone. “Roman, you will not guess what came over the weekend!”

  “I’m sure whatever it is, it could’ve waited until I got there,” I retorted in annoyance. I pulled on a pair of boxers and sat back down.

  “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. The package you’ve been waiting for came yesterday. I think this is it. It’s from Charlotte Spence and it’s postmarked from New York. It’s too big to fit in your mailbox so Meredith must have signed for it and put it on my desk. But I think this is it, Roman.”

  As realization hit me, I ran my hand over my short hair and down my face. I swallowed hard before opening my mouth to respond. Words escaped me so I snapped my mouth back shut in disbelief.

  “Roman? Are you still there?” Monroe questioned with her voice bubbling with excitement. “It’s from Charlotte Spence! This could be it. This could be your big break. I’m so happy for you. When are you coming in? I just walked in my office and saw this and I couldn’t wait until a decent hour to call you. I need you to come in as soon as possible and open this envelope!”

  With a deep breath, I responded in an even, reserved tone. “I’ll be in later. Thanks for the heads up, Monroe.”

  “Roman—”

  “Goodbye,” I interrupted, disconnecting the call.

  I dropped the phone on the nightstand and fell back on my bed.

  The contents of that envelope have the potential to change everything.

  Anxiety rippled through my body. If I hadn’t taken a shower already, I would’ve gone for a run or hit the weights. I needed to do something physical to take my mind off of the envelope, the nightmare, and life in general.

  Picking up my cell phone, I called the only person I knew could take my mind off of things for a while.

  “Hello?” Allison Sinclair answered sleepily. “Roman?”

  Shit, I forgot it was so early, I groaned inwardly.

  “I’m sorry, Allie,” I apologized, throwing my arm over my eyes as I reclined against my pillow. “I wasn’t thinking about the time when I called. Go back to sleep.”

  “No, don’t be silly. I’m glad that you called. I haven’t seen you in a while and I’ve missed you.”

  Missed me? I wondered, a sinking feeling lodging in my gut. Choosing not to ask her to clarify what she meant, I shut my eyes tightly and pressed on with caution.

  “Yeah, it’s been a while. I—”

  “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be on my way,” Allie interrupted. She disconnected the line before I had a chance to argue.

  Forcing the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach away, I smiled. Allison was on her way over and if for no other reason, she was a great distraction.

  We met at an art exhibition a couple of months ago and our one and only thoughtful conversation took place over a 50s-style pop art piece. That one conversation led to her coming back to my place for a wild night. For the last couple of months, Allison and I met up at least three times a week and the sex just kept getting better. Our relationship was completely built on sex and neither of us wanted anything more.

  Thirty minutes later, I ran down the steps when I heard the doorbell.

  “Allie,” I said as I opened the door. The early morning sun created a glow behind her. Her long auburn hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders and her olive complexion appeared darker against the beige trench coat.

  “Hey Roman,” she whispered as she brushed by me.

  I closed the door behind her and when I turned around she was staring at me seductively. Slowly, her manicured nails unbuttoned the trench coat. I leaned against the door and allowed myself to be captivated by the striptease. When she reached the last button, she pulled the coat open and dropped it to the floor behind her, revealing her perfectly pear shaped body.

  Allie’s breasts spilled from a bra that pushed them up and made them appear larger. Her panties were small and lacy, stretching over her rounded hips. My dick tented my shorts at the sight of her.

  “Allie,” I groaned appreciatively as my eyes devoured her.

  Pushing myself off of the door, I took a step and then wrapped my arms around her. Grabbing her by her ass, I pulled her body flat against mine. When our lips touched, she tasted like mint. I moved my tongue against hers as my hands touched every part of her body that I could. The moment she moaned into my mouth, I ran my fingertips across the wet spot between her legs. She moaned again and if it were possible, I got even harder.

  I trailed kisses from her lips down her neck. I nipped and sucked my way from her collarbone to the swell of her breasts. Pushing her up against the wall, I pulled down the cup of her bra and captured her nipple between my teeth. Just as I slipped my finger inside her panties, I bit down on her nipple hard enough for her to cry out. Just the way she liked it.

  I didn’t intend for us to get things started in the hallway, but the way she kept moaning my name made it impossible to pause and make it to the bedroom. Allie and I always had sex in the bedroom because she preferred it that way. I didn’t know what had gotten into her, but I liked it. I liked it a lot.

  She pulled my face up with one hand and slammed her mouth against mine. When she ran her hand over the head of my dick, I knew I was going to have to bend her over and fuck her against the wall. She seemed to want it as badly as I did so nothing was going to stop me from giving it to her.

  “I love you, Roman,” Allie whispered between kisses.

  Nothing but that, I thought as I pulled out of the kiss, dropping my hands from her body as if she were hot to the touch. Looking at her, I felt my eyebrows come together in confusion. Where did that come from?

  “What?” I asked, perplexed. Cocking my head to the side, I stared into her hazel eyes. “What are you talking about Allie?’

  Putting her head into her hands, she made a mournful, mewling sound. Her long hair covered the parts of her face that her hands couldn’t cover.

  Is she crying? I wondered, tentatively putting my hands on her shoulders. Shit, I didn’t mean to make her cry.

  “Hey,” I said gently, wrapping her in my arms. “What’s going on?”

  After a long pause, Allison unwrapped herself from my embrace and looked up at me. Her eyes were glassy, but there was no other evidence that supported my suspicion that she was crying. “Somewhere along the lines, this stopped being just a fling for me and I fell for you. I was hoping you felt the same way. But from the look on your face, I can see that I was mistaken.”

  Running my hands down my face, I shook my head and sighed. “I’m sorry, Allie. I didn’t realize you were developing feelings for me. I would’v
e ended things with us sooner. I hope you know I would’ve never intentionally led you to believe this could be more than what it is…was.”

  Even with sad eyes, she laughed lightly. “I know you would’ve ended it. And that’s why I fell for you. You’re not an asshole like a lot of these guys out here. You’re sweet. You’re easy to talk to. You’re talented beyond words. You’re sexy as hell. I just…I think there could be something between us if you let it happen.”

  “You don’t know anything about me, Allie. We don’t talk outside of deciding if we’re meeting at your place or mine. Do you remember how we started this?” I asked, taking her hands in mine.

  She nodded and smiled ruefully. “We argued over that dreadful painting of a car crash.”

  “And do you remember what you said to me?”

  Her smile grew at the memory. “I told you that my orgasms were more inspired than that drivel.”

  “And I told you that I wasn’t in a position to compare the two.”

  She bit her lip, appearing to mask the laughter in her voice. “So I told you that I would be more than willing to let you put me in a position to find out.”

  We both laughed heartily and I felt the tension easing out of the air. Squeezing her hands, I gently got to my point. “Before we left the art exhibition, I was upfront with you when I told you I wasn’t interested in anything other than sex. You said you wanted to concentrate on school and you didn’t want anything but a good time. So I clarified and you said you were okay with that. That’s the only reason I pursued this. If I’d thought you wanted anything more, I wouldn’t have continued. Because I was and still am just looking for a strictly sexual relationship. That hasn’t changed for me.”

  “Can we just forget I said anything?” She moved forward in a failed attempt to kiss me.

  “No. Ending this right now is for the best.” I backed away from her slightly, still holding her hands. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Now that I know that we’re not in the same place, I can’t do this with you anymore.”