Beautifully Broken Life (The Sutter Lake Series Book 2)

by Catherine Cowles

  I hurried down the steps and out the back door, being careful to double-check locks on my way out. The sun reflected off the beater of a car I’d bought off Craigslist for $1000 and never registered in my name. I’d had to steal registration stickers off vehicles that didn’t seem to be in use. I’d left silent apologies in my wake, and cash for the fee in the people’s mailboxes.

  There had been no way around it. I needed a car, especially in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. It was one more weapon for my arsenal in the battle to keep my freedom. It was also how I got to the first of my two jobs. The job I loved.

  My car bumped over the dirt road as I pulled through the gate of Cole Ranch. My boss, Jensen Cole, and her entire extended family lived on the massive property. But she had her own corner of land for a very special project. Something I helped out with in exchange for my studio apartment above Jensen’s tea shop.

  As I crested the hill, I caught a glimpse of the herd below. The sight of them still took my breath away. Almost twenty mustangs. A group of mares with an assortment of different markings. The first time Jensen had brought me here, something about these beautiful creatures had called out to my soul.

  They had been born in the wild, on state land about an hour and a half from here. But for one reason or another, they had been removed from their family bands. I felt their pain of being thrust out of their homes and their relief at finding a new safe place to rest.

  I pulled my car to a stop in front of a small barn that housed feed and other supplies for the horses. Pushing open my door, I inhaled deeply, the now-familiar smells of horses, hay, and the pine trees in the distance filling my lungs. It was the scent of comfort. Peace.

  A whinny sounded from the fence line. I grinned. “Hey there, Phoenix,” I called, making my way towards the gorgeous mare. Her dark bay coat glistened in the sun as she threw her head back with a snort as if to say, “Hurry up, would you?”

  I picked up my pace. Reaching the pasture, I extended a hand to scratch between Phoenix’s ears, but that wasn’t good enough for the mare. This morning, she wanted a cuddle. I let out a soft laugh as she lifted her head so that it rested on my shoulder, her breath tickling the back of my neck.

  “Good morning to you, too.” I ran my hands down her smooth neck until I reached her chest. My fingertips gently caressed a raised scar on her left shoulder. My blood still boiled that she had been hurt. Most likely taken down by a careless hunter who hadn’t waited long enough to see that he was shooting at a horse instead of the game he was after. She was lucky to be alive.

  A Forest Service law enforcement officer had stumbled across Phoenix and saved her life. But it had taken months for her to let anyone close, and I was honored that she had chosen that person to be me. Maybe she sensed a kindred spirit in me, knew that I, too, wore battle scars. The why didn’t matter, all that mattered was that she had given me a truly precious gift: trust and love.

  I gave the mare’s cheek a kiss and released my hold. Phoenix let out a whinny of protest. “I gotta get you breakfast, sweet girl.”

  I made quick work of spreading out hay for the horses to munch on and checking water supplies. Once that was done, I settled on a large rock at the edge of the pasture. I dug into my bag for one of the few luxuries I allowed myself. My hand found the sketchpad and the tin of pencils.

  Flipping open the notebook, I surveyed the view in front of me. The horses happily munching away on a hillside that rolled up and down in beautiful waves before it met a forest of towering pines. There was so much beauty. A bird dipped and rolled in the air. So much life.

  I touched my pencil to the thick, white paper. I heard the same voice I always did when I started. “It’s a cute hobby, Val, but you’re not talented enough for art school.” I pushed the voice from my mind. It didn’t matter whether I had skill or not, I loved drawing. Slowly, I lost myself in the rhythm of the graphite scratching against the page, the creation of an entire world.

  A tug on my jeans’ leg brought me out of my trance. “Phee,” I chided, using the mare’s nickname as she tried to decide whether she liked the taste of denim. I dropped my sketchpad back into my bag and leaned forward to scratch her between the ears. “Was I not paying enough attention to you?” Phoenix let out a huff, and I couldn’t hold in my laugh.

  “Okay, we’ll get in your scratches before I have to leave.” I took a quick look at my watch. I’d need to hurry to make it back in time to shower before my shift at The Tea Kettle. But I couldn’t force myself to leave quite yet.

  BALANCING a tray of scones that smelled heavenly, I made my way from the kitchen to the main room of the tea shop.

  Jensen turned at the sound of my footsteps, her glossy, dark hair swinging. She was breathtakingly beautiful and didn’t even try, though the shadows under her eyes told me that she still wasn’t sleeping. “Perfect timing, there are only two left in the case. This new recipe of yours is officially a hit.”

  My lips tipped up. At least my years of cooking for Garrett had given me a useful skill. And I liked baking, especially when the recipients were grateful instead of criticizing. “I’m glad. I’ll just stick these in the case and then get started on a batch of cookies for the afternoon rush.”

  Jensen grasped my shoulder in a squeeze, and I did my best not to flinch. I was semi-successful, but she immediately dropped her hand. “What did I ever do without you? Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

  I gave a forced smile. “Never.”

  The bell above the front door sounded, and I fought a groan. Bridgette Henry. She was beautiful for sure, but in a way that made her look like a Stepford wife or a plastic Barbie doll. She was one of those girls who had been mean and catty in high school and never grew out of it. I hurried to empty my tray of baked goods faster.

  “Hello, Bridgette,” Jensen called in a tone of forced politeness. “What can I get for you today? Tessa just pulled some scones out of the oven, they’re her brand new recipe.”

  Bridgette wrinkled up her nose at me as if she smelled something bad. “What kind?”

  I cleared my throat and stood up straight. “They’re spinach and feta with a hint of garlic.”

  Her lip curled. “I’ll just take my usual chai latte, Jensen.”

  “Sure,” Jensen answered through slightly gritted teeth. “I’ll get that right out to you.”

  Bridgette nodded in response and left her three dollars on the counter before heading to one of the tables at the front of the shop. She didn’t leave a tip. Shocker.

  Jensen snorted. “You’d think almost getting killed would make someone a little nicer.”

  My jaw fell open. Bridgette had almost been kidnapped by a serial killer a few months ago. A madman who had ended up being Jensen’s boyfriend at the time. Jensen thankfully hadn’t been hurt, but she still carried scars from not realizing the truth about the man she’d fallen for. Jensen never talked about him or what had happened. Ever. My mouth opened and closed as I searched for words.

  Jensen waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh, come on, the entire town thinks it. She almost got herself murdered because of her bitchy ways, and she doesn’t even think about changing her tune?”

  I reached a hand out to grasp Jensen’s forearm. “J—”

  She cut me off before I could continue, stepping out of my grasp. “I don’t want to talk about him.” Her hands shook as she placed the money in the register, a look of pain flashing across her face.

  I twisted the strings of my apron around my finger. I was worried about her. Jensen’s view of the world seemed to have shifted since her ordeal. I knew she was hurting, but I wasn’t sure how I could help.

  I shuffled my feet as I searched for the right words. “I won’t force you to talk about anything you don’t want to.” Lord knew I carried my share of secrets Jensen knew nothing about. “But I just want you to know that I’m here if you ever change your mind.”

  Jensen jerked her head in a stiff nod. And I knew that was as good as I was going
to get.

  2

  Liam

  N otes of my absentminded strumming filled the air as I tilted my face towards the sun, soaking up its rays. It felt heavenly. Inhaling deeply, my lungs filled with the scent of pine trees instead of the smog of Los Angeles. It was such a welcome change of pace.

  I let my eyes open, taking in the view in front of me. A creek flowed below my deck, making its way through a field where a couple of horses grazed. The pasture rolled right into an expanse of forest that seemed to go on forever. It was perfect.

  No award shows forcing me to wear a tux. No schmoozing with record execs. No paparazzi dogging my every move. Here, I was free.

  My fingers continued shaping chords, but no inspiration struck. I fought the urge to send my guitar sailing over the railing. I might have found freedom in Sutter Lake, but I sure as shit hadn’t reclaimed my ability to make music.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs leading up to the back deck. A head of blonde hair appeared. When her feet landed on the top step, her hands went to her hips, and her eyes narrowed. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  I bit back a grin. I was so fucking glad to see that my friend had her fire back. “Hey there, Taylor.”

  “Don’t you try to pull your good-ol’-boy charm on me.”

  I snickered. “All right. Pull up a chair.”

  Taylor stomped over to the rocker next to mine. “Why are you avoiding me?” I glanced over, and my gut clenched at the uncertainty that flashed in her eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

  My eyes widened. “Why the hell would I be mad at you?”

  She twisted the ring on her right hand, staring down at it as if it held all the answers. “Because of everything that happened.”

  I took in Taylor’s face as she studied her hands. The uncertainty shifted to something that looked a whole lot like guilt. “Taylor,” I prodded gently. “Why would anything that happened make me mad at you?”

  Her eyes remained fixed on her ring. “I almost got you killed.”

  My chest tightened at the reminder of that day. Not because I’d been hurt, I didn’t give a fuck about that. But because Taylor had been taken. Held for hours by a maniac and still bore scars from her time with him.

  I swallowed against the rage in my throat and set my guitar down so it leaned against the railing. I grabbed Taylor’s hand, finally bringing her gaze to mine. “Taylor. None of that was your fault. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for not hearing him come in.”

  She shook her head vigorously. “No. That’s ridiculous.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Okay, then I think we can both agree that the only person to blame is dead and gone.”

  Taylor swallowed hard, but she nodded. “If you’re not mad at me, then why the hell have you been making up excuses not to see me? What’s going on?”

  I was officially an ass. I had made one of my best friends in the world worry just because I wanted to avoid questions about why I’d left LA.

  Taylor studied my face.

  I dropped her hand and leaned back in my rocker, staring out at the horizon. “I’ve got a bad case of writer’s block. The studio is on my case about finishing my next record, and I think I have all of two songs done. I just needed to get away. I was hoping the beautiful sights of middle-of-nowhere Oregon would give me a little inspiration.”

  “I’m sorry, Li. Has being up here helped at all?”

  I shot a glare at the guitar leaning against the rail. “Not so much with the music, but at least I don’t feel like I’m going crazy cooped up in the city anymore.”

  “I thought you loved your place in LA.”

  I tipped the rocker back and forth, not meeting Taylor’s gaze. “I do. Or I did.” I blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I just hit this point where I was so sick of the scene there.”

  I could feel Taylor’s eyes boring into me, evaluating my words. She let out a soft, humming sound. “Why do I get the feeling that’s not the whole story?”

  This was the problem with good friends. They knew when you were bullshitting them.

  I toyed with the guitar pick still in my hand. “Something happened in LA.”

  “Okay…” She drew out the word as if it would encourage me to keep talking.

  “There was this fan…” I wanted to continue, but a mixture of guilt and frustration seemed to hold my tongue captive.

  “Li, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

  I nodded but still said nothing.

  “This is a judgement-free zone. You’re talking to the girl who drunkenly spilled her guts to you over shots of vodka because I couldn’t handle falling in love with Walker.”

  A small smile pulled at my mouth at the reminder of Taylor bursting into tears at the thought of falling in love. It had all worked out in the end. I wasn’t so sure my story would have such a happy ending.

  Gripping the arms of the chair, I forced myself to start speaking. “I meet fans pretty much every day. Meet and greets before concerts, while I’m eating at a restaurant… Hell, I’ve had people run up to my car when I’m stopped at a traffic light.”

  Taylor stayed silent, letting me spill at whatever pace I needed to. “It’s impossible for me to remember them all. To sign every slip of paper. Respond to every letter.”

  My throat began to burn. “There was a young woman. I’d apparently met her at a meet and greet, but I honestly don’t remember her. I guess she got a little fixated on me, obsessed kinda. She wrote me a bunch of letters at the label. They sent her an autographed photo, but obviously couldn’t respond to every note she sent.”

  I inhaled deeply, trying to focus on the smell of the pines instead of the roiling in my stomach. “She started leaving crazy comments on my social media and blog, but I swear I didn’t see them.”

  I met Taylor’s eyes, pleading for her to understand that I was telling the truth. “I found out later, she said if she didn’t hear back from me, she was going to kill herself.”

  “Oh, Liam, no.”

  “I was playing a concert in St. Louis. Some radio station gig. I went out with a few guys after the show but wasn’t really feeling it, so I headed back to my hotel.” My vision blurred as I lost myself in the memory. “When I got to my room, I found her passed out on my bed. She’d slit her wrists.”

  Taylor sucked in an audible breath.

  “There was blood everywhere. Never seen so much in my life. I called 9-1-1 and, thankfully, they got there in time, but they almost didn’t. Fuck, Taylor. What if I had stayed out just thirty minutes later?” I would never forget the feel of limp wrists in my hands as I’d tried to slow the bleeding.

  “No one knows what happened yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” I tilted my head back to search the sky. “The media is going to crucify me. The fact that I was there when it happened? They’ll twist it into something it’s not and rake me over the coals. And to be honest, I’m just not sure I want to be a part of that world anymore. I love music, but I hate everything that comes with it.”

  Fame was this insidious double-edged sword. It made you feel powerful, special, your words being sung back to you by thousands of voices, people telling you your message got them through their darkest days. But everything could turn on a dime. Suddenly, you were a selfish asshole because you didn’t stop for a photo. Every piece of your life was up for dissection on entertainment news shows. And now there were potentially deadly ramifications.

  I fisted the guitar pick, the edge of the plastic digging into my palm. “I don’t want to be the reason someone thinks about taking their life. I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”

  Taylor reached out a hand to grasp my forearm. “This is not your fault.” I wanted to believe her, but I wasn’t quite sure where the responsibility lay. “It’s not. She’s sick, Liam. If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else.”

  “But maybe that someone else would have taken five minutes to write her back personally.”

  Taylor squeezed my arm.
“But that would have only been good enough for a day. Then, she would have wanted another letter and another. She would have wanted phone calls and then in-person meetings. It would have been more and more. Surely, you see that?”

  I let out a sigh. “I don’t know what I see. All I do know is that I need a break.”

  Taylor released my arm. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

  I gave her a small grin. I was staying at a guest cabin on Taylor’s boyfriend’s ranch—well, his family’s property. “I think you’re right.”

  She pushed to her feet. “I’m always right.” I scoffed, but she kept right on talking. “What we need now are baked goods. Treats make everything better and more manageable.” My grin widened. “We’ll eat and sort all this out.”

  Taylor knew the promise of food was my kryptonite. “Let’s go.”

  MY STEPS FALTERED as I realized where Taylor was leading me. “I don’t even like tea.”

  Taylor slipped her arm through mine. “Come on, you big baby. You won’t lose your man card just because you ventured inside a tea shop.” I huffed. “They have the best scones you’ve ever tasted.”

  Scones were girlie food. Taylor pressed on. “Even a ham and cheddar one.” My eyes lifted as my stomach rumbled. Taylor let out a chuckle. “You’re so easily won over. I could get you to do anything with the right food as incentive.”

  I ruffled her hair. “What? I’m a growing boy.”

  I pulled open the door, letting Taylor pass in front of me. As we walked in, a wave of delicious smells filled my senses. Maybe Taylor hadn’t steered me wrong.

  “Hey, kids. What brings you in?” Jensen, Walker’s sister, stood behind the counter.

  Taylor strode forward. “We come in search of treats.”

  Jensen stepped back to eye the bakery case. “Well, you have perfect timing. Tessa just restocked our supplies.”

  Taylor rubbed her hands together with child-like glee, and I couldn’t hold in my laugh. She elbowed me in the gut. “Like you’re any better.”