Not Meant To Be Broken Read online

  The sound of soft footsteps in the corridor caught my attention; they didn't belong to Brian. I didn't move from my spot on the chair. It was too late to leave anyway. I wouldn't manage to slip out of the kitchen without meeting Amber.

  Don't be in a room alone with her.

  Brian's words flitted through my mind. I tried to act casual as I heard the door open. She didn’t have to enter if she was uncomfortable. I raised my head and caught her staring at me. She bit her lip and her forehead puckered in contemplation. She was wearing a similar outfit like yesterday. Jeans and a hoodie. Didn’t she sweat in those clothes? It was fucking warm in the apartment.

  “Morning, Zach,” she mumbled eventually, a blush spreading on her pale cheeks. I could see how conflicted she was. Her body seemed frozen on the spot in the doorway.

  I smiled, hoping to set her at ease. “Morning, Amber.”

  An awkward silence hovered between us and I contemplated storming past her out of the kitchen, but then a low purr sounded through the room. Amber looked down to her feet, and so did I. Her black cat rubbed its small body against her calves before it waltzed into the kitchen as if it owned the place.

  Without hesitation the cat jumped onto the table and began to lick up the spilled milk, watching me all the while dubiously. Its amber eye was fixed on me, and its body coiled tight as if it was prepared to run in case I tried to catch it.

  “Pumpkin! Go down!” Amber's indignant exclamation didn’t impress the cat. It simply lifted its head for a moment before it continued lapping up the milk. It wasn’t a very pretty cat with its missing eye and the crooked tail but it had character.

  Amber took a hesitant step forward, watching me cautiously as if she expected me to attack her any second. I knew I looked intimidating because of my height and muscles, and I worked hard to keep it that way, but I wasn’t violent. I'd never even think about hitting a woman, much less doing what Amber probably feared the most.

  Then something changed on her face. Resolve took over. She took another step. When I didn't move, she walked toward the table and grabbed her cat. She put it down and gave it an affectionate pat on the head.

  “Sorry,” she said with an even deeper blush. The table was between us, and her face made it clear that she was glad about it.

  “Don't worry,” I assured her with a grin. “But don’t let Brian see it. He’s a neat freak. Without him the apartment would be slob central.”

  “I know. His room was always much cleaner than mine when he still lived at home.” Her lips curled up into an adorable smile. I couldn’t quite explain why the sight made me so happy. “Are you hungry?” I asked, ignoring my strange feelings.

  She shrugged but her gaze moved to the fruit bowl that was behind me on the counter. I leaned back on my chair and reached for the bowl before I put it on the table between us and gave her a wink. She blushed and averted her eyes with a mumbled 'thanks'. She grabbed an apple and bit into it. I really wished she would sit down.

  “Have you decided yet how you're going to spend your days?” My attempt at conversation startled her slightly and she stopped the apple an inch from her lips. Fuck, her lips were pink and perfect. Wrong thought.

  “I’m not sure. Since it’s too late to start college and it wouldn't be a good idea with all the people anyway,” she said in an apologetic tone. “I guess I’ll just try to get used to everything and then maybe I’ll apply for the spring semester.”

  “I get it. You should take all the time you need. There’s really no reason to rush into things. Hell, most days I wish I hadn’t started college right after high school and instead traveled the world for a year or two.”

  “You’re in law school like Brian now, right?”

  “Yeah, it was either that or business school.”

  “You make it sound as if you didn’t have a choice.”

  “My father wants me to take over the family business in a few years, so he thought law or business would be the best preparation.” Shit, I sounded like a wimp, having my father tell me what to do. But it was the truth even though it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  She frowned. “But you don’t want to?”

  I gave a one-shoulder-shrug. “It’s good money. And maybe if I’m lucky and don’t turn into a workaholic like my father, I’ll even have time to do the things I love once or twice a month.” Whoa, way to sound like an idiot, Zach. “Sorry.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You don’t need to apologize.” She bit her. “There is a support group twice a week for women who...for women like me...I think I'm going to give it a try.”

  I stared at her. “Have you never been in a support group before?”

  “No. There wasn't one in my hometown. And I didn’t really –”

  My mobile vibrated in the back pocket of my jeans and I rose to yank it out. I shouldn't have moved so quickly.

  Amber's eyes widened and she stumbled backward, her back bumping against the counter. I froze, my hand half way to my pocket and my eyes fixed on the girl in front of me. “My phone,” I said, pulled it out slowly and turned it off. I wasn’t in the mood to talk with whoever was calling. “I didn't mean to frighten you.”

  A deep blush spread across Amber's cheeks. Her gaze dropped and she stared at the apple that had fallen to the ground. Slowly she bent down and picked it up before she chucked it into the trashcan. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered and lifted her gaze to watch me with huge, brown eyes.

  “There's nothing to be sorry about.”

  She nodded. Again it was Pumpkin who saved the situation. He began purring loudly and rolled around on the ground in front of Amber's feet.

  “Where did you get him?” I asked curiously. Pumpkin didn’t look like a cat that a pet shop would sell. Amber looked at me in surprise but her face turned solemn almost instantly. “A year after...“ She stopped herself. “Two years ago Dad and I went to a pet shelter because he thought I needed company. There were dozens of cats and they were all trying to gain my attention, purring, and nestling against my legs, except for one. Pumpkin was sitting in the far corner of the room, watching me with his one eye, not moving at all. He didn’t try to gain my attention and I realized that it was because he knew that nobody would want him the way he was. With a missing eye and a crooked tail. He'd given up. Nobody would want a broken creature like him...“

  She hesitated, her expression sad and hopeless. “That's why I decided to give him a home, to show him that there was somebody willing to take a broken creature, that there was someone who would love him.”

  Was Amber still referring to Pumpkin or was she talking about herself? The idea that she thought of herself as broken sent a jolt of fury through me. Fury at the men who hurt her. I wished those men were standing right in front of me so I could hurt them, hurt them like they hurt Amber.

  For once I truly wanted to use what Martial Arts had taught me. But somehow I was pretty sure that no matter what I did to those bastards it wouldn't be nearly as bad as what they'd done to Amber.

  “What happened to him?” I asked. ‘What happened to you?’ was the question I truly wanted to have answered.

  Amber didn’t look at me when she replied, “The people in the pet shelter didn’t know for sure but they assumed that he'd been tortured by boys because he is so afraid of men.”

  Another thing that she seemed to have in common with her pet. Fuck, I wanted to kill those sick fucks who’d attacked her.

  Eventually she averted her gaze from Pumpkin who was still stretched out on the ground contently, and directed her uncertain gaze at me. A phone rang and she jumped. “That’s mine.” She hurried out of the kitchen.

  The cat watched me with its one eye, as if it was trying to figure me out. Amber said Pumpkin was scared of men, but so far the cat hadn't run away. I took that as a good sign. Slowly, careful not to startle the cat, I knelt down to make myself smaller. I reached out. Pumpkin sniffed my hand, and then he started to rub his head against my palm.

  “Good boy,” I said. Amber’s feet appeared in my vision as she stepped into the kitchen. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her gaze settled on my palm patting Pumpkin's head. Slowly, she walked a bit closer, but still out of my reach. She frowned. “Pumpkin, he's afraid of men,” she murmured. “He's never let anyone touch him except for me.”

  I shrug, smiling genuinely. “Maybe I'm different. Not all men are alike.”

  She considered me, and then she nodded once, accepting my words. She sank down on one of the chairs, watching me. I knew it wasn’t much but it was a start.

  Amber

  I sat on the sofa in my room, trying to read a book but my mind kept wandering to the events of the morning. Pumpkin had let Zach touch him. Why did he suddenly start trusting men, especially a man of Zach's size? He was built like a linebacker. Dad would be proud of me for that comparison. It had taken Pumpkin several months to let Dad touch him. Maybe my cat had noticed that my dad didn’t know how to act around him.

  The sound of the bell startled me and I jumped up. Pumpkin hissed, leaped off the sofa and hid under my bed. I tiptoed toward my door and stiffened when I heard several male voices in the apartment. With shaking hands I locked my door and leaned against it to eavesdrop.

  There were three male voices that I'd never heard before and then there were Zach and Brian. Unease swirled in my stomach. I tried to keep my breathing even as I listened to their conversation.

  “There's a new club,” a man with a deep voice said. “Are you in?”

  “Sure, Bill,” came Zach's immediate reply.

  “Come on, Brian.” Another male voice urged. I heard the shuffling of feet, closer to my room, and checked my lock again.

  “I'm not in the mood,” Brian said in a tight voice. I bet he was worried about leaving me alone.

  “You sound like an old housewife,” said the man.

  “Stop it, Jason,” Zach growled and I cringed. He’d never sounded so…threatening, not when I was around. It was silent for a moment. Then they began talking again but too low for my ears to hear. I guessed they were discussing me.

  I rested my forehead against the door, listening how the male voices died down as they left the apartment. Pumpkin pressed against my leg, purring loudly. He blinked up at me with his amber eye and mewed. “It’s okay.”

  Guitar music floated over to me. It was the saddest melody I'd ever heard. Sad but beautiful. Brian, he was playing the guitar. It had been years since I’d heard him play. Cautiously I unlocked the door and opened it, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

  Pumpkin dashed past my leg and through the door, heading straight for the living room. I followed him on my tiptoes and peered around the corner. Pumpkin strode toward the sofa where Brian was sitting and playing his guitar. I clamped a hand over my mouth when my cat jumped onto the sofa inches from Brian. He let out a startled gasp and jerked back, almost dropping his guitar. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. After a moment he straightened and continued his play, never taking his eyes off Pumpkin. Brian wasn’t a cat person.

  I closed my eyes for an instant as I listened to the sad melody. One song ended and another began, even more haunting than the one before that. Slowly, I opened my eyes and crept closer to the sofa, worried about interrupting my brother. Brian turned his head and apprehension flashed on his face. His fingers stilled on the strings and the music died down.

  “Please, don't stop,” I whispered, moving a bit closer and plopping down on the loveseat on Brian’s right. “I missed your playing.” Why was it so difficult to interact with Brian? I could still remember the days when we bantered like siblings should.

  Surprise flickered in his eyes and then a smile brightened his expression. He bent over his guitar and began to play a happier melody. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the backrest of the loveseat. When I was little, Brian often played for me and it had always calmed me when I was upset. But after the incident nothing could calm me, and Brian hadn't played in front of me ever since. I’d thought he'd given up on it completely. I was glad he hadn't.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Zachary

  The music was blaring at full volume as we entered the crowded club, the bass a living breathing thing in my body. Jason and Bill set off instantly on their hunt for a meaningless fling with one of the barely clad girls who swayed their hips in rhythm to the hip-hop beats. Jason and Bill were wearing the same floral shirt, as some sort of running gag that was supposed to impress the chicks. I doubted that the Beach Boys look made girls want to drop their panties.

  I stalked over to the bar, Kevin at my heals, and ordered a vodka-martini, my favorite drink. Kevin got his usual non-alcoholic beer and gave me a pained smile when a drunk girl leaned against the bar next to him, batting her eyelashes at him. He, always the gentleman, didn’t have the guts to send her off; instead he ignored her advances. And that was proving more and more difficult by the minute. She ran a hand through his long blond hair. A year ago he would have readily took her up on her obvious offer but ever since he met Reagan everything had changed. The guys and I often taunted him about being whipped but I had to admit that his relationship with Reagan was admirable. Yet sometimes they reminded me of love-sick puppies.

  Kevin's forced smile turned into a frown when the girl began to feel him up, running her hand up and down his chest. I heaved a monumental sigh and took it upon myself to save his life. I bent toward the girl and her eyes snapped up to me, continuing the unnerving batting of her lashes. It made me dizzy to watch the rapid movement. I gave her my shark-grin. “Get lost, kitty, we're not interested.”

  She looked offended and opened her mouth for a come back. I spared her the effort and growled. “Get lost.” She left with a huff, giving me one last deathly glare.

  “That wasn’t very nice, Zach,” Kevin said, trying to hide his grin behind the bottle of beer in his hand.

  I shrugged and leaned back against the bar. “You should be grateful. I saved you. I'm sure Reagan wouldn't like this skank having her hands all over you.”

  “Reagan trusts me,” he said with fervor, his eyes lighting up at the mentioning of his girlfriend.

  I rolled my eyes. Sometimes their lovey-dovey displays made me sick. My eyes caught sight of long, blond hair and a body I knew only too well. Just the distraction I needed.

  Kevin nudged my side. “Brittany's advancing on you. I'm gone. Maybe I'll find Jason or Bill somewhere on the dance floor.” With that he disappeared in the crowd, as if the devil was after him, and for him Brittany was the equivalent of the devil. The two hated each other with fervor. Kevin found her arrogant, self-centered, narcissistic, vain and rude. Brittany was all of those things. But she was also fucking hot and a good lay.

  I glanced in her direction and she smirked at me. I stifled a groan and kept my face indifferent. The girl was confident enough, I didn't need to add to that by appraising her undeniably irresistible body.

  She sauntered over to me, a sultry smile playing on her red-painted lips. Men often took Brittany for stupid; she was anything but, and that made her even more dangerous. She went to business school and was the daughter of one of my father’s best customers and friends. Her eyes traveled over my body as I leaned against the bar, vodka-martini in hand. I didn't smile at her, not in the mood for pleasantries. Brittany and I'd been fuck buddies for almost a year and though recently she seemed to want more I couldn't imagine wanting more than hot sex from her. She, just like I, had other partners and one-night-stands, and I wanted our relationship to remain on a no-strings-attached basis.

  “Hi Zach,” she said in a husky voice, perching on a bar stool beside me and crossing her long legs. “Do you like my new dress?”

  Of course, Brittany was as obnoxious and self-centered as usual. I let my eyes wander over her dress, if you could even call it that. I’d classify it as underwear. It left hardly anything to the imagination. Not that there was anything I hadn’t seen yet.

  The flimsy red piece of fabric ended high on her thighs, barely covering her butt, and the plunging neckline would have made a hooker jealous. Brittany loved to present her best features openly, cause that's all she was - looks. If it weren't for her hot body I'd have never put up with her for so long.

  “The dress is nice,” I commented dryly before raising my drink to my lips and taking another gulp.

  Brittany's face darkened. “Nice?” She was about to throw one of her temper tantrums.

  I sighed quietly. “God damn sexy, fucking hot...”

  She smiled, satisfied, and grabbed my arm, sliding her high-heeled foot between my legs and rubbing it along my inner thigh. “How about a dance?” She hopped off the stool and pulled me toward the dance floor. I resisted her tugging and she pouted. “You won't regret it.” Then she licked her lips in a way that almost made me moan. I knew this was a game for her. She had acting skills deserving of an Oscar. You would never believe she was the same woman who attended luncheons at my father’s company in custom-made business suits.

  I didn't resist any longer, knowing that this would only make her more insistent. I moved my body in rhythm to the hammering beat and ran my hands over Brittany's hips while she grinded herself against me, her butt causing delicious friction against my groin.

  She knew what she was doing of course. She'd done it with God-knows how many guys and with me more times than I cared to count. Despite my previous annoyance, I grew hard and let out a low growl. Brittany reached behind herself and cupped my cock through my pants, squeezing lightly while we kept rocking to the music. Her touch was a promise of what was to come. I nuzzled my face against her neck and sucked her skin into my mouth. She let out a low moan and ground herself even more insistently against me.

  “Fuck,” I growled into her ear.

  “Just what I've been thinking,” She grinned wickedly at me and led me across the dance floor toward the back door of the club. For once it wasn’t raining, not that I'd have cared if it had. The small back alley was deserted. Just what we needed.

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