Broken Course (Wrecked and Ruined #3)(6)

I burst into laughter. "Thanks, smartass."

"No problem. Goodnight." She begins laughing before hanging up.





Seven months earlier…


I SHOULD Feel free. I should feel alive. I should feel like Leo James again. However, even in my own skin, I feel like an imposter. I’m not a man. I’m a coward.

"Leo!" Erica calls from the balcony of her hotel suite. I tried to duck out before she noticed, but she catches me just before I get to the door.

"I need to go, babe," I tell her and the light dims in her eyes.

"Not yet," she whispers, taking a step closer, her eyes already filling with tears.

"We’ve been dancing around this all day. I need to go."

"I’m not ready," she says, looping her arms around my waist.

"Yeah, you are." I smooth down her hair and gently kiss the top of her head. I glance up to find her brick wall of a man, Slate, watching us while standing in the corner. His arms are crossed over his chest, but his concern is staggering. "I’ll see you next week for the wedding," I try to reassure her, but the words catch in my throat.

The truth is that I’m nowhere near ready to leave her. Our relationship is a prime example of codependency at its finest. Her clear, blue eyes are the only things that soothe the self-loathing burning inside me. She’s also a reminder of why it burns at all. She’s the poison and the antidote wrapped into one tiny, innocent, and foul-mouthed package.

"Come on, beautiful," Slate says, guiding her arms from around my waist.

I clear my throat and give her a weak smile as she silently cries tucked into his side.

Slate extends a hand and I quickly grasp it. We may not have always had the best relationship, but I definitely consider him family now. I’d trust him with my life, and in a sense, by leaving Erica with him, I’m doing exactly that.

"You’ll be at the wedding on Saturday?" he confirms, never releasing my hand.

"Wouldn’t miss it," I smile, and it might just be the biggest lie I have ever told.



I ARRIVE at Shades just a little before seven. I know Sarah might be late, but I gave myself plenty of time to walk downstairs and across the street. I may have picked this place based on the proximity to my apartment. Maybe. Probably.

Shades is a five-star tapas restaurant and martini bar. After nine o’clock, the atmosphere changes into that of a bar, but before then, it’s a crisp, clean fine-dining experience.

The hostess guides me to one of the high-tops lining the perimeter of the large, crowded room, and I settle in so I can watch the door for Sarah.

Finally, at only ten minutes past seven, she comes walking in. I can only see the back of her head, but I’d recognize that white-blond hair anywhere. She’s wearing a pair of tight jeans that cling to her ass and a black shirt that I can tell is tight as well. I lick my lips and head in her direction, knowing that the front will be even better than the back.

I sneak up behind her and very carefully lean forward to whisper in her ear. "I’m impressed. You actually showed."

She squeaks from surprise and takes a giant step forward. I begin to laugh before, suddenly, a tattooed arm lands hard against my chest, preventing me from following her.

"Back the f*ck up," the man growls, and my eyes snap to his. He looks downright pissed, and the minute Sarah turns around, I know exactly why.

"You’re not Sarah," I say, lifting my hands in submission and feeling like a total jackass.

"No. But you must be Leo." The woman smiles, and a pair of blue eyes I immediately recognize sparkles in humor. "Hi, I’m Emma Jones. Sarah’s sister." She knocks the man’s hand off my chest and extends her own.

I give her a confused look but take her hand then turn to the man with her. He still looks pissed, but begrudgingly nods at me.

"Caleb Jones."

"Sorry, man. Leo James. Nice to meet you," I respond, trying to figure out why Sarah’s family is here yet she remains nowhere to be seen.

Then something catches my eye from the corner by the door. Sarah is standing in a line at the hostess desk, biting her knuckles to stifle a laugh. She uses the other hand to give me a very slow finger wave.

I shake my head and excuse myself to move in her direction. I weave through the small crowd by the door, stopping directly in front of her.

"Well, that was embarrassing."

"It was really funny though." She bites her lips to prevent the laugh from escaping but fails miserably.

"Hilarious," I say sarcastically.

She laughs for a second longer before collecting herself. "Hey," she says simply, pushing a hand out for a handshake.

First, she brought company, and now, she’s trying to give me a f*cking handshake? Clearly, she got confused somewhere along the way. Maybe I didn’t make it obvious enough that this is a date, not a business meeting.

I lift a questioning eyebrow and stare down at her outstretched hand. Fuck that. "You look beautiful." I very purposefully lick my lips while raking my eyes over her body. Given her nerves on the phone yesterday, I know it will make her clam up and look away, but I don’t want there to be any misconceptions about what this actually is. I’m interested in her. She should know that right off the bat—even if it makes her uncomfortable for a few minutes.