Almost Broken Up (Almost Bad Boys)

BOOK: Almost Broken Up (Almost Bad Boys)
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A
lmost
BROKEN UP

An Almost Bad Boys Novella

 

 

 

 

A. O. PEART

 

 

 

Three Graces Publishing

Copyright © 2014 A. O. Peart

All Rights Reserved.

 

Visit the author at
www.angelapeart.com

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, locations, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Almost Broken Up

Copyright © 2014 by A. O. Peart

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used, reproduced, scanned, distributed, stored, or transmitted in whole or in part, in any form, by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying or recording without the express written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For further information or permission please contact the author at
[email protected]

Author and publisher do not have control and do not assume responsibility for third party websites featuring this book and their content.
 

 

Artwork by Regina Wamba

Copyright © 2014 by A. O. Peart

 

First Edition, 2014 published in the United States of America

Three Graces Publishing.

 

ISBN-13: 978-0-9883695-5-9

 

 

 

To my parents for letting me live my dream.
 

I love you more than you know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Praise For the Almost Bad Boys series

 

 

“A.O. Peart delivers passion, single lady laughs and romance all in one with Almost Matched. If you are looking for a fun, laugh out loud contemporary read then this is the book for you!”

Bestselling author Cambria Hebert

 

"The perfect fun and sexy weekend read!”

Bestselling author J.A. Huss

 


This book is amazing!! Once I started it I could not put it down, the house could have went on fire and I wouldn't have cared!!”

Sonia Forbes, Amazon reviewer

 

“Honestly, if it was possible, I have fallen more in love with Natalie Davenport and Colin Hampton's characters in "Almost Broken-Up". It seems as if the past has come back to haunt Colin and Natalie in the sequel "Almost Matched" the first book in The Almost Bad Boys series.”

Melissa, Amazon reviewer

 

“Almost Broken Up is a fabulous and enjoyable story of protecting the ones you love no matter the cost. It is filled with the acceptance and confirmation of the beautiful progression of the healing and blossoming of two broken and lost souls. It is the ultimate expression of the level of relationship that Natalie and Colin have come to find themselves in.”

Amber, Amazon reviewer

 

 

Table of Contents

COLIN

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

Author’s Note

 

 

 

Colin

 
“And we forget because we must and not because we will.”

Matthew Arnold

 

My own scream wakes me up. I jolt upright, panting. In the darkness, my eyes desperately try to decipher where I am. It takes me a moment. A motel room, somewhere along the Interstate 5 in southern Washington. Yesterday I got in the car and just kept driving north. No direction, no plan, no destiny. Driving without purpose was the only thing that let me feel like escaping from the nightmare of the previous evening.
 

I start to shake uncontrollably. The sheet is crumpled around me in a heap of a sweaty mess. I grasp fistfuls of it and press it to my face and chest, wiping more sweat from my skin. My heart races, and the memories return: Faith’s dead eyes, opened wide, staring into the nothingness; her face bloodied, blond hair stuck to it; blood dripping in a steady, slow rhythm from her parted lips and onto the pavement. Shards of the dark-green glass from the wine bottle that only moments ago she clutched in her hand, stick out from her bruised, bloodstained hand and face; small pieces of shattered windshield from her car are scattered around her small body. The body that I held close just moments before the crash.
 

I tried; I really tried to calm her down, to reason with her, to stop her. But I didn’t do a very good job, did I? Because she lays on the pavement, broken, and gone… She will
never
be again. Faith, my Faith… She
is
no more.

A painful scream builds up in my chest. It expands, stretching me from the inside. My breath is forgotten. I need to contain the scream in my chest. Because if I let go, everything will start over. The panic; the ruthless panic that clutched its burning fingers around my throat before will return again. And this time it won’t stop. It will eat up my brain. It will open up a hole in my heart. It will leave me as broken as Faith’s body on that pavement yesterday. I should have died there right next to Faith…
 

I gather the rest of the sheet to my chest and bury my face in it. I bring my knees close and start rocking back and forth, back and forth, back…

Faith…

Faith!

“Faith!!!!!” I hear my scream as if coming from the outside of this room, from the outside of the window. I’m scared. The panic won. I’m stuffing the sheet in my mouth to keep from screaming. I don’t want the people around. I don’t want to talk, to explain, to answer any questions. Yesterday at the police station it was all I did—the countless questions that I answered calmly and with reason. But now the reason is gone. And I’m broken. I’m just like Faith… broken.

I taste blood in my mouth. My teeth clamp around the fabric. Tears roll down my face and sink into the white mess of the sheet. I rock harder back and forth, back and forth, back… and forth…
 

I must have passed out, because now I dream.
But the dream is real: Faith runs away from me. She laughs and throws quick glances behind to see if I chase her. Her long blond hair escapes from the messy bun on top of her head. She clutches a wine bottle in one hand and the keys to the car in the other.
 

I yell for her to stop. I will get her in a moment. Because my legs are so much longer than hers. She’s only about five feet tall. Such a tiny, sweet thing… and so crazy, so fucked up in her head. I have to keep an eye on her all the time. I never know what she will get herself into. But I’m afraid to let her go. She would’ve done something stupid if I did. I have to be there for her, to protect her, to watch out for her. But this is becoming too much.
 

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