Salvaged Hearts (No Longer Broken Duet Book 2)

by Lilly Wilde

  Later as we stand near the falls, he tells me about his life in Dallas. He even extends an invitation so that I can see his paintings.

  “Come here,” he says, tugging me closer. “Pine needle.” He picks it from my hair, then looks down at me. “If you were any farther away I’d swear we didn’t come here together.”

  I angle my head to the side, studying his face. “I can’t get too close, I may get burned,” I reply with a smirk. “After all, you are The Man on Fire.”

  “That’s on the field. So don’t feed me that bullshit.”

  “I’m not so sure it only applies there.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I recall reading somewhere about a trail of broken hearts.”

  He chuckles. “Again, I call bullshit.”

  “Maybe you should have your press agent get on that.”

  We both laugh, our gazes fixed on each other.

  “Yeah, I’ll give Connie a call so she can straighten all of that out. Just so you know, I haven’t had a relationship with a woman since I left Blue Ridge.”

  My brows rise. “Oh, so you’re into men now? No big deal if you have a boyfriend, you know…since I’m into threesomes and all.”

  We share another laugh, thinking back to the day in the diner when he introduced the topic of him hooking up with me and my girlfriend.

  “Sorry about that,” he says, a grin still on his lips. “Ragan.”

  “See, you can call me by my name, I always knew you could, sugar.”

  He cocks his head and lifts a brow. His blue eyes are both impassioned and mischievous as they travel my face. I combat the blush that creeps to my cheeks. And I ignore the flip-flop of my stomach as his gaze pins me to this spot. Those tactics last but mere seconds before I’m falling into the abyss of his wonderment. I swallow as he studies me like he’s discovering something for the first time.

  “May I kiss you?” he asks.

  “You’re asking…you want to…huh?”

  “I didn’t think I was speaking a foreign language.” He leans closer, his lips a hairsbreadth away from mine. “Ragan Prescott, I’m asking for your permission to kiss you. Are you going to deny me that?”

  “N—” he cuts off my words, his lips already moving slowly over mine. He kisses me for what feels like forever, his tongue sweeping against mine, his hands at my nape, holding me in place. A tiny moan vibrates up my throat and I gently tug at his shirt to bring him closer. And for several moments in time, that’s where we stand—immersed in a kiss that I know I’ll never forget. No sooner does that thought enter my head does Branch murmur at my mouth, then pull away.

  His eyes are alive with the excitement I’m certain he sees in mine. “Thank you.”

  “Er…you’re welcome.” Why is he thanking me? And what just happened? I quickly tell myself this all must be a reaction to losing Jimmy so I figure I’ll just go with it. Yeah, I’ll just go with it.

  Truth be told, if he wanted to kiss me a thousand times, I’d let him. And I won’t dare admit this to anyone but no use in lying to myself—I’m not here just because he needs me. Quite frankly, I think I’d do most anything to spend time with him. I know it’s a horrible idea. And I also know nothing good can come from falling for a man like Branch, but it’s too late.

  #Fallen

  EVERYTHING ABOUT RAGAN SPEAKS TO a past that demands she build walls around her heart. But the softness in her brown eyes tells me she’ll lower them just enough to let me in. She’ll go against her better judgment and take a chance on me. And I’ll do to her just what I did in the past. It’s best if she decides she wants nothing to do with me. But I know I’m not selfless enough to let that happen.

  My gaze caresses her face, falling to the curve of her lips. My cock would look so fucking hot between those lips. I notice her accelerated breathing and when I look into her eyes they tell me she knows exactly what I’m thinking. Something that I shouldn’t. Not with her. Not again. Swallowing, I grasp her hands and bring her palms to my lips with a gentle kiss. Her fingers are cold. And trembling. She’s afraid. And she has every right to be. That acknowledgement serves as my wake-up call. I need to let this go.

  “How about we grab some coffee before we head back?” I ask.

  “Er…sure.” Confusion flutters across her face, then a slight smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Sounds good.”

  “And if you’re up to it, we can check out some of the local artwork.”

  The brown of her eyes lights to a honey-gold. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  “Cool. Let’s pack up.” I step around her, refusing to succumb to a temptation that shouldn’t be there in the first place.

  After the lunch supplies are stowed in the backpacks, we sling them over our shoulders, then retrace our steps along the trail. Ragan goes on and on about Noah and how great it is to reach out to him whenever she wants. I ask about the relationship between her dad and brother. She says David isn’t aware of their reconnection, and Noah demands they keep it that way. I can’t say I blame him. I actually don’t understand how she can live under the same roof with him.

  After two cups of coffee and a half hour in one of the art galleries, we’re on the road headed back to Blue Ridge. I ask Ragan more about her own drawings, and this time she appears more at ease sharing her passion for art. She explains how it haphazardly began as a way to express the pain she was unable to articulate. She goes on further to say her finished works chronicle a journey of growth and self-discovery. Although her inspiration stems from a place of sadness—other than when she speaks of Noah and Cecelia—this is the only time I’ve heard pure happiness in her voice.

  The wintry Georgia afternoon has bled into evening when we finally arrive at her dad’s house. I turn off the ignition and exhale a sigh. “As far as surprises go, that wasn’t a bad one, right?”

  “No. It wasn’t entirely horrible.”

  “What?” I ask when I see she wants to say more.

  “But it was kinda confusing. Can I ask you something?”

  My thoughts skip back to the morning after we’d had sex when she voiced the same question—to say I was less than amicable back then is an understatement. “Go ahead.”

  “The night we had um…that we—”

  “Hooked up?”

  “Yeah,” she replies and averts her eyes. “You regret it happened and you want to forget about it. Right?”

  “Not exactly,” I reply, wondering if I should tell her more, ultimately deciding that I will. “Thing is…I can’t forget about it.” I recline my head on the back of the seat and look over at Ragan. “That’s why I was with Skye the day after. I was trying to get you out of my head and I figured the best way to do that was to do what I’ve always done.”

  “But it was only a few hours after you and I—.” She shakes her head as if she doesn’t want to revisit that scene.

  “Yeah, a few hours that fucked my head up. Full disclosure?”

  She shrugs. “Why not?”

  “I don’t think about women that I’ve fucked, Ragan. Ever. So it threw me for a loop when I realized it was different with you…that you weren’t slipping out of my head as easily as the others. The only time a woman intrudes my thoughts is right before I fuck her. When I’m done with her, I’m done.”

  The disappointment of my confession washes over her face.

  “That’s kind of cold, don’t you think?”

  “It’s who I am. I have a very healthy sexual appetite, always have. But that’s all I have an appetite for when it comes to women. And I’m glad it’s that way.”

  “Then what am I doing here?”

  That’s a question I have yet to figure out. I care about her but I have no idea why. The dare to have sex with her, the piss-poor decision to hook up with Skye the day after, then the fight which led to the decision to steer clear of each other…yeah, I’d really fucked things up with her, yet here she is giving me another chance to do what? Fuck with her head again?

  “Yo
u’re a friend,” I say, hoping those words sate her curiosity.

  “And you always kiss your friends?”

  This conversation is over. I’ve already said and done too much with her. “Let me grab your shoes and walk you to the door.” I hop out of the SUV and wait for her to catch up.

  “I’ll admit, today was fun,” she says when we’re a few feet from the house.

  “Yeah, thanks for going with me.”

  “No problem.” She looks at me with those same questions in her eyes.

  “What is it, Ragan?”

  “So you’ve never fallen in love with or even considered a relationship with anyone you’ve slept with?”

  I grin at her persistence. She wants answers I don’t have and others I know she won’t like. I don’t want a relationship or anything close to it, so whatever I have with her shouldn’t mean shit to me…but it does, so I try to skate around her question. “Are you asking for yourself? Are you falling for me?”

  She blushes and turns away. “Uh…nope.”

  I touch a finger under her chin and draw her eyes back to mine. “That was a quick answer.”

  “When you’re sure, it should come quick.”

  She falls quiet again, studying me. “But what if I were? What if I, Ragan Prescott, were falling for The Man on Fire?”

  “So you’d what? Want me to be your person?”

  “Hypothetically.”

  I shake my head. “Hypothetical or not, I wouldn’t wish that on any woman. I don’t look at women that way.”

  “Exactly how do you look at women?”

  “Let’s just say I’m not a good man. At least not the kind of good you need. You’ve seen that for yourself.” I tuck a stray hair behind her ear, lean over and drop a kiss to her forehead—a gesture that seemed involuntary and one that I regret as soon as I look into her eyes. “As for love, that part of me doesn’t work. You deserve better. You need someone who’s gonna treat you the way you deserve to be treated, not someone who’s gonna practice on you and then throw you away like I would. You’ve been through enough.”

  “But I didn’t say it was me.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “Whatever. You’re just a big old mass of confusion…as usual.”

  SOMEHOW I MAKE IT THROUGH the funeral. And now that I’m at Loretta and Jimmy’s, the devastation of the loss slams into me all over again. Jimmy’s gone. He won’t be walking through the front door with flowers for his wife or surprise gifts for his daughters. He won’t sit and watch games with me or fly out to see me play. There will be no more bullshitting or life lessons at the garage. No more wisdom from a man I respected more than anyone.

  I lift my gaze from the Perez family photo I’ve been focused on for the better part of an hour and spot Ragan. She’s been keeping Jimmy’s girls entertained, helping with the food, and consoling a woman she barely knows. I can see why she made such an impression on Jimmy. She’s truly a good person. And once you get past the attitude, you see it. A kindheartedness. So altruistic and genuine, it’s as involuntary as the beat of her heart. She’s a rare one. That’s for sure. Someone who’s been beaten down by life and given every reason to be negative usually is, but not her. She’s an amazing woman, but she’s learned to protect herself. And after hearing her story, I get it. She was given a bum deal even before she was born into this world. My mother had been a mess on most days, but at least I had her. And despite the guilt trips, the arguments, and the shit with Dad, I knew she loved me. How does a girl go through life never knowing that? That her mother loves her? Wants her? If guys—even assholes like me—need that, certainly women need it more. But Ragan, she’s had to grow up without it. She’s never had it and she never will.

  She looks up from Loretta and takes in the expressions of those around her, her perusal stopping with me. The meek smile she’s been wearing all day falls when she realizes I’m watching her. She knows this has cut me deep—that I’m suffering right along with Jimmy’s family. When she starts toward me, I shake my head, signaling that I don’t need the comfort she’s been giving to virtual strangers all day. I turn the other way and head outside for some air.

  I’m in my head, trying to sort through the next steps I’ll have to take. Steps I’d never make if Jimmy were still here. But his death leaves me little-to-no choice.

  A while later, Ragan is beside me. She takes my hand and threads her fingers through mine, and I don’t resist. I take comfort in her touch. She doesn’t say anything. She’s just here. And she’s exactly what I need and don’t need at the same time.

  Jimmy will be missed. And he’ll be remembered as more than just the guy who fixed cars or sat on the city council. He’ll be remembered as a family man, as a great father, and as a wonderful husband. Earlier, I listened as Loretta shared kind words and stories about her life with Jimmy. She spoke of his family traditions. Of the memories that define the context of their lives.

  And now I wonder about myself.

  What will happen after I’m gone?

  What will I be remembered for? That I hooked up with women that I didn’t give a fuck about? That I didn’t have anyone to carry on family traditions? What will be said at my funeral? That I was a great football player? That I had a gift? Sure, there will be the football legacy. But there won’t be a true legacy of Branch McGuire. Is that what Jimmy was trying to tell me?

  Knowing I have to be in Dallas for a while to meet with my agents, the team, and the coaches, I spend every spare minute with Loretta and the girls, often including Mama, Jace, and Dad. Loretta is doing her best to keep up appearances in front of her daughters, but I see how much it’s taking out of her. To pretend she’s okay when in actuality she’s anything but.

  She’s been ordered to remain on bedrest until the baby is born. And after spending time with Loretta, I think a part of her is glad to have a valid reason to step away from everyone. She gets to be alone and give in to the grief she tries to hide from well-wishers. But I see it in her eyes—the sadness, the emptiness, the absolute loss of a man who completed her life.

  Time with Jace seems different now. I always enjoy hanging with my kid brother, recognizing parts of myself in him, seeing the admiration in his eyes when he looks up at me—glimpsing the happiness and innocence that still claims him. But over the past week, it’s just different. I start to feel more like him. That I want all three—my friends, my parents, and my brother.

  Somehow these last few days with my family are the best they’ve ever been. There are no arguments about Dad, no feelings of guilt about Jace and no manipulation or mental episodes from Mama. For the first time since moving from Blue Ridge years and years ago, I’m not ready to leave.

  I even carve out time for Ragan and Cecelia. She’s a great little girl. And Ragan is an incredible mother, despite the circumstances that would have made a lesser person fall prey to the demons that I know still haunt her. Ragan pushes past those, determined to be the mom she never had…that she will never have.

  I’m still reconciling the pieces of someone else’s life that are now my responsibility. Still can’t fathom that his garage is now mine. At least temporarily. I plan to sign it over to his kids when they are of age. It should go to them—not me. As for the Corvette, I’m not sure what to do with it. Drive it? Memorialize it? Either way, it’s another piece of Jimmy I never expected.

  SLIDING OUT OF THE CAR, I let out a sigh, flick the key fob and head toward the house. Behind me, I hear what sounds like footsteps rapidly slapping against the pavement. Distracted by my ringtone, I grab my phone, spin around, then wham! The breath is knocked from my lungs and my body is flung to the ground. Someone is on top of me, and the rancid odor of fish floods my sinuses. That’s when I know the damp hand covering my mouth belongs to Ethan.

  “Arrested? You had me fucking arrested? Did you think that would end us?”

  I shake my head back and forth, then yank his hand away. “I didn’t have you arrested. Your crazy behavior took care of
that. Now get off.” I shove his chest and writhe under the weight of his frame.

  “You’re coming back home with me and everything’s going back to the way it was. Do you understand?”

  “That’s never going to fucking happen. In fact, if you were the last guy on the planet, I’d never be with you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, Ragan. Are you trying to hurt me?”

  “If I wanted to hurt you, that would mean I care, which I don’t.”

  “Why?” He leans in, his lips inches from mine. “Because you’re giving it up to that ball player?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “You’re mine. Everything you do is my business.”

  “I’m warning you. Get off.”

  “You’re warning me?”

  “I promise I’ll scream my head off and you’ll land right back in jail, you fucking psycho.”

  A large hand curls around my throat as the other comes down hard across my cheek. “You belong to me. Every part of you is mine.”

  “Stop it. You’re fucking crazy.” I grasp a handful of his hair and try to yank it from his fucking scalp. “You and I are done. When are you going to get that through your head?”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, bitch. We will never be over. You got that? Never!”

  My body thrashes beneath his and he loses his grip. I manage to pull another arm from underneath him and land a fierce strike to his nose, drawing blood. I roll to the side, snake free, then scream for help.

  I continue my retreat, crawling a few feet, then scrambling to stand upright, but he trips me and I’m back on the ground, falling face-first into a pile of mud.

  “Do you think I’m going to sit by while you fuck another man? Do you? Huh?” Ethan grasps my ankles and flips me over, then I’m met with a fierce kick to my side.

  “No! Please. Stop!” I yell, but the blunt edge of his boot meets my ribcage again and I feel the bones breaking inside me. “Help. Someone help me!” I cry out as Ethan falls to the ground and straddles my frame.