Authors: Michelle D. Argyle
Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #Travel, #Europe, #Italy, #General
Pieces
Pieces
A Breakaway Novel
Michelle Davidson Argyle
Rhemalda Publishing
“Pieces
will take you on an intense, emotional ride ... truly the mark of a great piece of fiction.”
—Zoe Winters, author of
Dark Mercy
“Just as compelling as book one, this is a series readers won’t be able to put down!”
—Haley Hagen, book reviewer at YA-Aholic
“Pieces
had me enthralled as I went on my final journey with Naomi, watching as she made her own journey to try to put her life together.”
—Jodie Lane, book reviewer at Books for Company
Other works by Michelle Davidson Argyle:
Monarch
2011
The Breakaway
2012
Bonded
2012
Published by Rhemalda Publishing
P.O. Box 1790
Moses Lake, WA 98837
Pieces
Copyright © 2012 Michelle Davidson Argyle
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Diane Dalton
Cover art by Melissa Williams
http://mwcoverdesign.blogspot.com/
Author photo by Meg Hall Photography
http://meghallphotography
.blogspot.com/
ISBN: 978-1-936850-85-3 (Paperback) 978-1-936850-86-0 (ePUB)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012955340
Visit author Michelle Davidson Argyle at
http://www.michelledavidsonargyle.com
QED stands for Quality, Excellence and Design. The QED seal of approval shown here verifies that this eBook has passed a rigorous quality assurance process and will render well in most eBook reading platforms.
For more information please
click here
.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
P
IECES IS
the story I’ve had in my head since the day I finished
The Breakaway.
I always had an idea of what Naomi would do after she escaped her kidnappers, but I wasn’t sure anybody really wanted to read about it. To me, it was a story involving college and other boyfriends—far from as exciting as a kidnapping. After
The Breakaway’s
publication, however, I quickly discovered how much readers were dying to know what happened. Their passionate response to the book helped me break my promise never to write a sequel or companion novel for
The Breakaway.
I started planning
Pieces
and realized how important this story is in the completion of Naomi’s character arc. Thank you, readers, for your emails and messages about wanting a sequel. If it weren’t for you,
Pieces
would never have made it out of my head and onto paper.
I also want to thank my publishers, Rhett and Emmaline Hoffmeister, and my editor, Diane, for taking on
Pieces
in such a small timeframe. Not only have you encouraged me to write what is close to my heart, but you are always there to cheer me on when things get hard.
Thank you to every reader who has ever sent me a message of encouragement about my writing. Your words and opinions are cherished.
Also, a big thank you to my husband, Adam, for all of your support. You make me whole. I love you!
To Olivia and Jessica
for cheering Naomi on from the beginning
Contents
I
April
“W
HO IS THAT WOMAN YOU KEEP DRAWING?
”
Naomi looked up from her sketchpad and smiled. On Wednesday mornings, Finn was the waiter at the Java Lounge café. He had surfer hair—thick, wavy brown locks swept across his forehead. It fell into his face whenever he looked down. Naomi wondered how he kept from running into the tables. Somehow, he never did.
“Well?” Finn asked, leaning closer to look at her drawing.
She slid her arm over the entire picture. She and Finn always talked when he brought out her order, but he had never asked her about her drawings before. It was new territory for their casual friendship. “She’s a character from a novel.”
“Oh?” He leaned even closer, the carafe in his hands tipping dangerously close to her sketchpad. “Which novel? Is it one you’re writing?”
She inched the sketchpad away from him. A smirk crossed her face. “You know I don’t write. It’s a scene from a favorite book, that’s all.”
The smell of the coffee in the carafe was stronger than the regular smell of cinnamon rolls, flaky pastries, and whipped cream drifting through the Java Lounge in the mornings. The coffee was straight black. It reminded Naomi of waking up in the mornings at the house where she had been held captive for a year. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will the memory away. It was over. Over. But she could never get the house out of her head. Their house. Eric’s house. She didn’t know what to call it, even two years after her escape. They had made coffee every morning, so coffee would always remind her of them. She decided from now on she would call it
the house
and leave it at that.
Finn tried to peek at the sketch. She decided it wouldn’t hurt to show it to him, and lifted her arm from the paper, allowing him a good view. It was the beginning outlines of a woman walking into the ocean.
“You’re really good,” he said in a voice filled with awe. He straightened, but stayed rooted to his spot. “Why are you choosing film instead of art as your major?”
She laughed. “You don’t think film is a form of art?”
“Of course it is! I’m just looking at your sketch. It’s so good.”
She looked at the sketch, beaming. The reason she came to the Java Lounge was because it was a place where people left her alone. That was, until she met Finn. She liked the way he was genuinely interested in speaking with her, but she was surprised at how great it felt when he complimented her art.
“Thanks,” she said after an awkward pause. “Film seems more practical, that’s all. It combines a lot of different art mediums I love.”
He nodded slowly, as if he had to chew on her words for a bit. He had a dimple in his left cheek that made him look lopsided in an endearing sort of way, and a wicked-looking yin and yang tattoo on his left bicep. It was partially hidden by his T-shirt sleeve, but the longer Naomi looked at the tattoo, the more she realized Finn’s skin was the sweet color of caramel.
“Did you apply to any art or film schools?” he asked. “There’s one in California—USC. It’s supposed to be really great. I have a few friends going there.”
She tried not to shudder at the mention of California. Jesse was in California, in federal prison. She would wait for him to get out—that was her promise to herself. Five years was his total sentence. It was a short amount of time for what he had actually done, thanks to his plea bargain and obvious desire to change. The others hadn’t been so cooperative. Eric, Evelyn, and Steve had received much longer sentences, between fifteen and twenty-five years. Naomi had no trouble thinking of them as kidnappers and thieves, but Jesse was different. He had set her free. The first two years of his sentence had been torture for her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get through the rest.
Finn was watching her, waiting for an answer to his question.
Her mouth dropping open a little, she leaned away. “No, I was thinking about Berkeley at one point, but Harvard just ... happened. The program here isn’t bad.” Her voice was beginning to sound edgy and defensive. She shut her mouth before she said anything stupid.
Finn shrugged. “Well, Harvard is great no matter what you do.” He looked at the sketch again. “So why is she walking into the ocean?”
She frowned. “I know it looks like she’s trying to drown herself, but I keep trying to fix it so she doesn’t look like that. In the book, she dies.”
Finn was quiet. His blue eyes were focused on the sketch and Naomi wondered what kind of judgments were forming in his head.
“So you want to change the end of the book?” he asked.
“I want to draw her happier, that’s all. I haven’t managed it so far, but I’ll get there.”
He nodded, looking confused, until a man called out to him a few tables down. He was lifting his coffee cup for a refill.
“Be right back,” Finn said, and hurried off.
Sorry he was gone, Naomi picked up her pencil to begin drawing again. She felt a hot blush creep up her cheeks as she noticed her racing pulse. Finn always made her feel this way when he talked to her. Falling for him was not what she had planned when she had decided to open herself up to a harmless friendship. She needed to get through the next three years without attaching her heart to anyone. She wanted Jesse and nobody else. But perhaps a friend wasn’t so bad ... as long as she kept her distance.
When Finn returned, she looked up to see his expression set firmly with determination.
“So, we’ve been friends for a while,” he said, swallowing. “I mean, you know, every Wednesday when you come in. I mean ....” He winced and started over. “If you aren’t busy some night, would you want to get together for a drink or something?” He held up his free hand. “Just as friends if you want.”
She opened her mouth. She really enjoyed his company, but he didn’t know about Jesse. She wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I can’t drink yet, legally,” she said, and inwardly cringed at using the dumbest excuse she could possibly think of to get out of a date, even if he wasn’t going to call it a date. “I don’t turn twenty-one until May.”
“Beginning or end?”
“Beginning.”
“That’s in two weeks. Close enough. We can meet at my place so nobody asks for ID. I live off-campus.”
She laughed. “You think I’m going to fall for that?”
Pulling a sarcastic expression, he replied, “Are you really that staunch about the legal age limit?”
“I didn’t used to be.” She looked away and rolled her pencil back and forth across her drawing. This was why she usually avoided talking to people. She should have known her friendly conversations with Finn would eventually lead to her past. Everything stemmed back to the kidnapping, to the one thing she couldn’t mention. Ever. It was as if the center of her life was that single year of being held captive, a force as strong as gravity, constantly pulling her back to the memories, the emotions, the house, the smells, the food. Even now, the coffee from the carafe, the way Finn stood over her like Jesse always had, waiting for her to give in, made her palms sweat. He was the kind of guy she might have been drawn to if Jesse had never happened. Her counselor’s words repeated in her head.
Don’t be afraid to let your past and present come together to create something new. Don’t be afraid
....