Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)(86)

I blew out a lungful of air, then crossed the room and tugged her into my arms. “More than you’ll ever know.”

She squeaked and shoved against my chest. “Patient needing oxygen here.”

After a few quiet seconds, both of us clinging to one another, glad to be alive and kicking, I released my hold and stared toward the medical file tucked into the plastic holder on her open door. “The doctor’s supposed to be coming by around lunchtime to give us a report.”

“How long do I have to stay?”

“Nurse said a few days. Think they’re required by law, whenever it’s...”

I struggled to say the devastating word.

Her hand gripped my forearm. “Don’t say it.”

“Okay. I…okay.” A cramp choked my throat. Over how much I’d lost…and almost lost.

“Can we break out?”

I snorted out a short laugh. “Only if we want social services hunting us down.”

A nurse filed in. “Oh, you’re up. How are you feeling?”

Logan blinked in surprise at her. “I’m okay. Could I get some water?”

When the nurse nodded and disappeared, Logan glanced back at me. “So…now what? Back to the zombie slaving?”

“Very funny.”

My heart sank at her point.

But it had to be done. My number one priority was to keep her safe and provided for. And I needed to be involved in her life, make the time to be a more active participant.

Logan had to come before everyone else, including me.

Without being able to stop it, my thoughts drifted to my last image of Kiki: her staring up at me with tears in her eyes.

I did that.

A burning sensation ignited in the center of my chest. After several deep breaths, I rubbed my sternum in a weak attempt to ease the pressure.

A flash of movement tore me out of my thoughts, then a small tissue box smacked the spot where I’d been rubbing. It tumbled into my hand.

Logan’s face twisted into a deep scowl. “You’re an idiot.”





Kiki…

Silence echoes the loudest when you listen to it.

I’d cried myself to sleep the last few nights, but I felt like I had nothing left inside me to sob out. Numbness had taken over.

Home saved—by a hero who’d won over the girl, then vanished—I wandered through my empty warehouse, struck by the intense quiet.

After I sat at my worktable for a few minutes, Chipmunky jumped up and sideswiped the arms I’d propped under my chin, as if sensing I needed some TLC. His loud purr broke into the deafening silence in the best kind of way.

“Hey, munchkin.” As I ran my fingers over his sleek multicolored coat, a memory flashed: At least one guy wants what I’m offering.

My fingers froze midstroke. I’d said that to Chipmunky the morning after Darren had dropped me off and then found me in the alley. My last attempt at a one-night stand had turned into the beginning of Darren and me.

And mere feet away from where I sat had been the end.

My chest burned, unable to take a next breath.

My eyes ached, welling with tears.

Then big, fat drops streaked down my face, and I started sobbing all over again.



Tuesday’s art class came and went. I forced myself to go. Logan didn’t show.

No calls. No texts. Not from her. Not from Darren.

Utter silence.

And although I worried about them—hoped Logan was doing okay, missed Darren to a level I couldn’t describe—I kept my distance and didn’t make contact.

After all, we weren’t friends anymore.

Wednesday, I woke up and went running for the first time in three days.

It felt good to get out into the fresh air and sunshine again. I tested out a new trail, upping my distance to almost five miles. For the first time, I ran the downhills, careful to step with precision while keeping a steady pace.

Every time my thoughts drifted to Darren?

I pushed myself harder.

Happened a lot.

But the mental anguish translated into physical pain, which only fueled my determination to keep my focus on the trail—nothing else.

And in the vast wide open space, in the middle of wilderness, I found a different kind of silence: A peace in my head and heart. It had become a compromise between what my body could endure if I punished it and what my brain was willing to let go of in order to ease the pain.

When I got home that afternoon? I made it official: I registered for the race.

Then I downloaded the race map of a park I hadn’t yet visited. I made a mental note to begin training on the race trail starting tomorrow. The website described the trail as a lollypop loop: the same straightaway start and finish with a four-mile circle at the top, five miles total.

The rest of the afternoon I kept busy, packing boxes of sold artwork to ship to buyers.

And I did not think of Darren while I did so. Much.



Thursday afternoon, I went to art class stemming a bit of an attitude.

Because…really? Darren inserts himself into my life, then just pulls the plug?

And then…not one text or phone call?

Doesn’t he want to know if I’m okay?

At the last thought, a twinge of guilt speared through me. He needed to focus on his sister—who almost hadn’t been okay.