Broken by Love (The Basin Lake Series Book 2)

by Stephanie Vercier

  “That’s your half-sister,” Dad tells Chad as he runs little circles around me. “You remember, don’t you?” He turns to Morgan who stares up into my eyes.

  “Sissy! Sissy!” Morgan yells while hugging my legs, causing Chad to widen his circles until he runs out of steam and throws himself on the floor.

  “That’s right, I’m your older sister,” I tell them, “and I have presents for both of you. You want to open them?”

  “Yes!” They both scream in unison.

  Watching them open their gifts, a dollhouse with a chipmunk family for Morgan and a Hot Wheels tower full of cars for Chad, I’m filled with nostalgia for Christmases when I was a kid, when Mom and Dad were still married. We never had big, extended family gatherings, and Paige, my childhood best friend, was always away on Christmas Day to see her Grandma in Eastern Washington. So, it was usually just the three of us save for the few years my aunt and uncle from California would drive up. They’d bring my cousins, and I was always grateful for the playmates, even felt a sense of pride one year when I’d successfully defended my cousin, Will, who had Down’s syndrome, from a neighborhood bully when we’d been out playing with the scooters we’d just gotten for Christmas. That moment had instilled in me a sense of respecting those who are different, of giving them a chance before judging them. It reminds me of John’s parents and how they’d judged me, though I wasn’t sure I could compare my struggle with them to the one I considered Will might have to endure on a more regular basis.

  My aunt and uncle eventually got divorced, just like my parents would. They didn’t bring Will or my other two cousins for visits anymore, but I hadn’t lost touch completely with them like I had with Paige.

  “That was pretty damn nice of you,” Dad says once the kids have ripped through the gifts and Liz has excused herself to the kitchen.

  “They’re my family,” I say, sitting next to him on a well-used couch in the cozy living room that feels like a home, like the home I remember sharing with Mom and Dad in North Seattle.

  “That they are,” Dad says. “And I hope you can forgive your old man here for not trying harder to keep you in their lives.”

  “I’ll forgive it as long as you promise not to do it again, as long as you don’t let her make that decision for your kids,” I say, tilting my head to the kitchen.

  “Don’t blame Liz,” he says. “She has a lot of insecurities about all of this, and I should have done more to quell those. I should have done more to make sure you were a part of this family.”

  “I want to be a part of it,” I say, needing to make that very clear.

  “Yes, and we want that too.” He puts his arm around me. “You grew up so fast, became a young woman almost overnight, making your own decisions. Part of me wondered if you even needed me,” Dad says, an opinion he’s shared with me more than once.

  “I’ll always need you, no matter how imperfect you are.”

  He smiles and tugs me closer to him. “You still have to open your present.”

  I look under the massive tree in front of us and scan the area for gifts, but there is nothing left except torn up wrapping paper.

  Dad chuckles. “It was too big to wrap. Come on, Emma… let’s head outside.”

  I’m considering that Dad went crazy and got me a puppy or something, which neither Mom nor Aiden would be able to handle, and I’d just have to hand him or her back to Dad. But other than a lively little puppy, I can’t imagine what else could be waiting for me. Dad, the kids and even Liz head out front with me in a neighborhood lined with well-kept older homes, Christmas trees lit up in front windows, wreathes adorning doors and even a few kids braving the cold to play with gifts better suited for warmer weather.

  “It’s kind of freezing out here, Dad,” I say looking around for signs of a present and thinking it might just snow tonight.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Just look down the street… way down there.”

  The kids toddle along, and we slowly follow them. I’m starting to get excited, and when my mind accepts it probably won’t be a puppy, I begin to imagine it might be John. It’s a ridiculous long shot, but what if John was afraid I’d just tell him off if he asked for another chance and instead went through my father? It could happen, just like in those romantic holiday movies where everything ends up okay, but when a giant red bow on the roof of a small silver sedan comes into view, my heart slows.

  “You got me a car,” I say, working up a smile.

  “It’s used,” Dad says, perhaps sensing my lack of interest. “But it’s only three years old… a VW Jetta… perfect for you. It’s from both of us.” He looks to his wife, Liz.

  “I want ride!” Chad exclaims.

  “Dad, it’s wonderful,” I say, getting over my disappointment about an imagined reunion with John and allowing myself to be excited for my first car. “And thank you too, Liz.”

  “You deserve it,” she says with the easiest smile I’ve ever seen her give me.

  “And it’s really all mine?” I ask, somehow needing a little extra confirmation.

  “Absolutely,” Dad says. “We’ve covered your insurance for the first six months, and we’ll keep that up for as long as you’re in school. It’s the least Liz and I can do. As far as parking goes though, you might have to get Mom to help out with a spot for you in the condo garage.”

  Giving Dad a giant hug feels good, and even better when his arms wrap around my back and hold me close to him. I’d missed having him in my life for so long, and now I finally have him back. And that’s something.

  “Thank you, too,” Liz says, offering up an embrace that strikes me as genuine.

  “You’re the one that helped get me that car,” I say once we step back from one another.

  “For the kids…” she says with eyes that are relaxed, perhaps even loving. “They adored their presents,” she adds.

  I place my hand over my heart and nod. I might not have John, but I have a family, a mother who is sober today, a Dad who wanted to share Christmas with me, a step-mom who just hugged me like she’s never hugged me before, Morgan and Chad—two wound up little fireballs that I hope will grow to love me—and friends, old and new, some of whom I hope to see later on this evening. All in all, that’s not bad. It’s something to be thankful for, something that might one day fill the void John has left in my heart.

  JOHN

  I never considered myself an addict, even if Mom and Dad found it necessary to send me to rehab after my time with Alicia. I’d been annoyed of course, but I’d learned to recognize how experimentation and casual substance use can morph into addiction. And now, as I sit in Shannon’s dorm room with her and do lines of coke on some IKEA coffee table in front of her dorm-sized couch, I still don’t think I’m an addict. But I know I must look like shit, like some strung out, depressed junkie who isn’t with his friends or family on Christmas Day and is instead with a girl I’ve decided I might not actually like all that much. It’s in an effort to forget Emma, but I’d have to do this every day for that to really work, and then I’d most definitely become an addict.

  “Jesus, you must think I’m such a coke fiend,” Shannon says, easing back into her couch and rubbing her nose. She’d found the stash in her dresser a couple nights ago, but this batch was a new purchase from a girl down the hall who looked more like a young Republican than a drug dealer.

  I shrug. “I’m doing it right along with you.”

  “It’s no worse than drinking,” she says, the coke making her energetic, her crossed leg bouncing up and down. “People look down on stuff like this, but how the hell do you get through years of school without an occasional pick me up?”

  “Not sure,” I say, unable to imagine years stretching out ahead of me without Emma. One day at a time is all I can handle.

  “I got invited to this party,” she says, jumping up and darting to the other side of the room, opening up her closet and pulling out a red dress. “You should come with me, unless you have plans with some
one else?”

  “No plans,” I say, “but not in the mood for a party. Can I just crash here for the night?”

  I’d spent the last two here on the small, cramped, uncomfortable couch, not even venturing out when Shannon had left to do her last minute Christmas shopping. Denny had called earlier this morning to tell me they were having something at the house later this evening after everyone had gone to their respective families’ houses for the day. He said he’d invited Emma too, which makes the house off limits for me. I’m trying to forget her and bury the pain I still feel in losing her, and I don’t want to dredge anything up for her either if I can help it.

  “What’s in it for me?” Shannon asks, narrowing her eyes. “You won’t have sex with me, and if you’re not going to this party, then it’s pretty probable I’m going to bring someone who’s actually willing back here.”

  “Fine, I’ll leave,” I say, not sure exactly where I’ll go, probably a hotel room where I can feel really pathetic and alone.

  “No, don’t do that,” she says, hanging her dress back up. “I’m offering you refuge for as long as you need it.”

  “Thanks,” I say, grabbing for the beer I’d opened earlier and taking a long pull, considering it might actually be a better idea to get that hotel room.

  I’ve got borrowed headphones on, listening to music with my eyes closed. My skin feels dull and clammy, my head heavy, the spark the coke shot through me long gone. I don’t even startle when Shannon taps me on the shoulder, but I do open my eyes and turn the music down.

  “I’m going now,” she says, looking nice in her dress. “So, if I don’t come back tonight, it’s because I went home with someone, okay?”

  “Okay,” I say, knowing I’ve overstayed my welcome but too damn depressed to want to do more than sulk.

  “You might want to think about taking a shower when I’m gone,” she says, basically saying eww with her expression. “Not to be rude, but you’re getting a little ripe.”

  “Sure, sorry.” I sit up, run a hand through my hair that has started to get greasy.

  “You sure you don’t want to go? We can maybe stop by your place for a change of clothes, and you can get that shower in?” She raises her brows, eyes wide, looking expectant.

  “No, you go,” I say, just wanting her to leave, just wanting to be alone.

  She sighs. “Suit yourself, John.”

  And then she’s gone, and I’m left to spend what feels like the most depressing Christmas ever alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  EMMA

  A New Year — January

  I’m officially glad the holidays are over. The yearning deep inside my heart for John was only punctuated by the sense of togetherness the holidays are meant to elicit. I’d been grateful for my family and friends, but it hadn’t lessened the dull ache caused by John’s disappearance from my life.

  “I love this place!” Jennifer sprays herself with one of the sampler perfumes at the clothing and accessory store I’m now working at. It’s on Broadway, just a few blocks from school, and the clientele is decidedly less wealthy than Patrice’s.

  “It’s more convenient than downtown,” I say, preferring the cluttered warmth of this place to the very sleek, soulless handbag store. “But no commission, so it’s taking some time to get used to the lighter paychecks.”

  “At least you have a job,” Jennifer says. “Mom keeps telling me my only job is school, but I feel so… dependent.”

  “You can work all you want once you graduate,” I say with a smile. “And speaking of your mom, do you think she’d have some time later to talk?”

  Jennifer offers me a knowing look. “About Mr. Thatcher?”

  I nod. The holidays, and a fair deal of hemming and hawing from me, had put the brakes on me planning a meeting with him. “It’s been nagging at me, and now that I’m not with John…” I bite my lip, close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Well, I just think it’s finally time I go through with this.”

  “I agree,” she says with that friendly smile, a smile that is always there for me. “I’ll give her a call and let her know, unless you just want to call her yourself?”

  “I probably should. You can’t keep relaying messages that I don’t follow through on half of the time.”

  “I don’t mind. I know this is difficult, but yeah, I’m sure Mom would like to hear from you.” She lets out a deep breath, then says, “Anyway, I’ve got to be getting back to class, so keep me updated on everything, okay?”

  “I will, and thank you, Jennifer.”

  “Not a problem!” she says, waving before she leaves the store.

  I pull my phone out and type out a text to Jennifer’s mom. When she gets back to me and says we can meet tonight, I’m overcome with gratitude as well as fear. But I’m really ready to do this, to face Mr. Thatcher and hope he’ll provide some answers to all the questions that had once paralyzed me, that continue to linger like a haze that I pray will soon clear.

  JOHN

  Working alongside Shannon again had been weird, after both of us had bared sides of ourselves I’m not sure either of us were a hundred-percent proud of. I’d thought about quitting the legal clinic just to avoid her, but that would have looked bad, not to mention I’d have let down the lawyers and organizers and clients I’d promised my time to. And if I’d quit, it would have been one less thing to keep my mind off of Emma.

  Keeping my mind off of Emma.

  It’s kind of a joke when I think about it. There is really nothing that will take my mind away from her or prevent me from feeling that pang of absolute hurt and emptiness when I wake up every morning and realize she and I are no longer together. I’d think that at least Stephen would tell me to get over it, say she’s just a girl, that I’m stupid to think I could fall this deeply in love in a matter of months. But, as a testament to the woman Emma is, he’s not even implied that.

  It snowed earlier today, and Angela and Stephen are making a snowman in his very small front yard when I stop off at the house I’d returned to after those few days at Shannon’s. They too have fallen in love, an unlikely pairing of a guy who never had a relationship last beyond three months and a girl known for drama and not always being the best friend she could be to Emma. But together, they got over their bullshit, and I think they bring the best out in one another. They are different, better.

  They actually ask me to join, but I just shake my head, my brief smile seeing them having fun fading once I’m in my SUV. When I arrive at my volunteer job, the clinic parking lot has yet to be plowed, so I find a spot on the street, no easy task in this busy Seattle neighborhood. I get out, the air chilly enough for it to maybe snow again, but I like the cold—it seems to match my mood.

  A block or so into my walk, I come across a black BMW coupe. It makes me think of Madison, which just annoys me. Black BMWs aren’t a rare sight in Seattle, and it isn’t until I’m close enough to see the license plate that I realize it does in fact belong to her. I shake my head and let out an annoyed sigh.

  What the hell does she want now?

  I nearly slip on some ice, cuss to myself and then round a corner when I see Madison at the side of the legal aid building, her arms crossed over a stylish coat and a knit hat covering part of her blonde hair.

  “What is going through that head of yours?” I mutter to myself, deciding that I might as well confront her and figure out why she’s here, if she’s been sent with a message from my parents or if she still hasn’t given up on her and I getting back together. But before I can do any of that, someone slips out of the side door of the building and taps Madison on the shoulder.

  Shannon.

  “What the fuck?” I walk slowly toward them, hidden, shielded by parked cars and trees that are covered in snow. They’re talking, but I can’t exactly hear them. Casually, I glide toward the corner of the building, just out of sight, until I’m able to get within earshot.

  “So, he’s doing coke now?” Madison says with an irri
tated tone.

  “How would you know that?” Shannon answers, just as annoyed.

  “Perhaps because one of our mutual friends ran into John just after Christmas and told me he kept grabbing at his nose and looked higher than a kite.”

  I did? I don’t even remember running into a mutual friend, but I’d had plenty of other things on my mind.

  “Oh, Jesus… what an over-dramatization.”

  “But you don’t deny it, do you?”

  “We did a few lines together, Madison. You don’t understand what it’s like being in law school or working at this fucking clinic. It’s stressful as all hell!”

  “John can handle stress,” Madison snaps. “And I didn’t ask you to get him hooked on drugs again. I asked you to keep an eye on him.”

  Shannon befriending me was all Madison’s idea?

  “And I have. My eyes have been firmly planted on him, believe me.”

  “Are you fucking him?” Madison snarls.

  “If only,” Shannon says. “God, I’ve tried, but he’s so hung up on that girl that he won’t even let me give him a blow job.”

  I sigh. I’d considered having sex with Shannon, if only to use her like a drug, but the picture of Emma in my mind had never left me, and even coming close to doing something with Shannon would have felt like a major betrayal to the woman I really loved.

  “I thought you had some class,” Madison hisses. “I was apparently wrong about that.”

  “You don’t think I have class? At least I’m not as desperate as you are, plotting with his mother to keep him and that Emma chick apart. I mean, really… even I’d have given up already and let him be with the girl he really loves!”

  “You have no clue what you’re talking—”