Page 46 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Kannon was everything my teenage heart had wanted—a little wild, impossibly good-looking, and full of reckless charm. I’d spent so many nights back then dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him, touch him, be his. But he wasn’t that boy anymore. He’d grown into a man, one with edges sharper than I remembered or even expected. There was something darker about him now, something that made me want to lean in and learn more even as it made me wary.

Something had happened. I could feel it and see it in the way he held himself. And the bike thing. He was far more reckless than I remembered. Usually, people settled down the older they got, but not Kannon. The man looked like he was trying to outrun his demons. But what face were those demons wearing?

I didn’t even know if a we was possible. There was the matter of our history. I was sure some part of him still resented me for leaving, for breaking my promise and never coming back. I wanted to ask him—no, needed to ask him—what had happened while I was gone to make him this way. Until I knew, how could I possibly think about moving forward with him? My heart wasn’t prepared to gamble again, not with him.

I climbed off the bed and went in search of my phone. I found it on the kitchen counter. There were a few messages from Dominique. I glanced at the time.

“Holy shit!”

Kannon and his crew would be arriving soon to start their work. The idea of running into him after last night while his buddies were hanging around was mortifying. It wasn’t exactly the morning after, but it was pretty close to it. I wasn’t ready to face him.

I ran back toward my room and threw off the blanket. I grabbed the first clean clothes I could find—leggings, an oversized sweater, and a beanie. Not exactly chic, but it would do.

I brushed my teeth while stuffing my feet into the Ugg boots I usually wore on my lazy days. The beanie would hide my hair. I washed my face, added a little moisturizer and mascara, and called it good. I ran back to my room and spotted my laptop bag in the corner. That was where my focus was, blinding me to the mattress on the floor, directly in my path.

With a yelp, I crashed into the makeshift bed, tumbling head over heels onto the floor that was nothing but bare wood. A sharp pain shot from my ankle and up my leg. A silent scream gripped my throat as I clutched at the offending limb.

“Shit fuckers!” I cursed nonsensically. Pain did not make me eloquent or rational.

Trying to ignore the throbbing in my ankle, I scrambled back to my feet, snatched up my laptop bag, and hastily exited the bedroom. I made it halfway down the hallway, half hopping, half walking while looking at my phone and reading the messages from my friends.

“Son of a bitch!” I cried out when I stubbed my toe on the stack of boxes with all the flooring.

I was going down again. I felt it happening but was helpless to stop it.

Barely having a second to react, I instinctively threw my arms out in an attempt to steady myself. The phone slipped out of my hand and clattered onto the floor while I helplessly tumbled over the boxes. The impact jarred my shoulder and shot a spike of pain through my side. For a moment, all I could do was blink up at the ceiling while taking ragged breaths, trying to regain some control over my frazzled nerves.

I was naturally clumsy, but this was ridiculous. I rolled over and got to my feet. My ankle hurt pain matched the stitch in my side and my bruised spine. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to knock myself unconscious.

I collected my phone and focused on walking to the kitchen to get my laptop. I shoved it in the bag and hunted down my keys. I grabbed for them and turned, catching the empty wine bottle from last night and knocking it off the counter. I tried to catch it but it was too late. It shattered on the floor.

“Did I break a mirror? What the hell is going on?”

Frazzled beyond measure, I hurriedly swept the pieces aside into a neat pile. It was easier said than done. By the time I got outside, my hands were shaking. I fumbled with my purse, keys, and bag and forced myself to stop and take a breath.

I did not want to take a header off the porch. The way my morning had been going, Kannon and his crew would find me with a broken leg on the lawn, unconscious. I very carefully stepped down to the sidewalk.

The sound of a motorcycle engine revving in the distance froze me in my tracks.

Kannon.

“Shit!”

I didn’t even look to confirm. I ran for my rental car like the devil himself was chasing me, then threw myself behind the wheel and started the engine in record time. As I pulled out of the driveway, I caught a glimpse of him pulling up on his bike, his helmet visor lifting as he looked my way.

I grimaced, slouching in my seat as if it would make me invisible. “Great, Merritt,” I muttered. “Really smooth.”

In the rearview mirror, I saw the rest of his crew pulling up just as I rounded the corner. My heart finally started to slow down, but I had no intention of risking a run-in with any of them. Although I suspected I had just made things a lot worse. Now, how was I supposed to talk to Kannon? What could I possibly say to explain my behavior?

“Well done, Merritt. Way to handle things like an adult.”

I had planned to go work at the cafe, but my gut told me I needed somewhere quieter. Somewhere safe. A place I wouldn’t have to worry about Kannon popping in to buy lunch for his crew. But given my thrown-together appearance, I wasn’t really looking forward to sitting at a coffee bar with a bunch of young professionals.

Without really thinking, I made a last-minute turn and found myself in the parking lot of Riggs’s bar.

The place looked the same as always—rough around the edges but oddly welcoming. I parked and went inside, spotting Riggs behind the counter hanging some tacky Valentine’s Day decorations. He was perched on a step stool, an expression of intense concentration on his face as he adjusted a banner.

“Is it too early for a drink?” I asked, dropping into a stool.