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Prologue
I’m Broken
Sabrina
I’ve perfected my façade. I’ve practiced and practiced in front of the mirror to hide my fear, my anxiety. When I’m alone, though, I’m huddled in a ball on my cuddle chair. I can’t even go to the bedroom to sleep. Eventually, I fall asleep in the chair.
On a good night, I get four or five hours of rest. Concealer has been my best friend. It hides the bags under my eyes. I know it’s insane, and I have no reason to hold on to the fear now that Cameron is in jail and will be for the next ten years, yet I don’t seem to have control over my emotions.
Then there’s Alex, always watching me, like he sees what I really am: a frightened little girl, afraid of her own shadow. I can hardly stay in the same room with him. My hands get all sweaty, my mouth gets dry, and I’m at a loss for words, sounding like a total dork.
With my blanket tucked around me on my chair, I rest my head on the arm. I hear the rattle of the doorknob. I jerk up, watching it shake, and reach for my phone. I should call the police, but instead, I dial a different number.
Alex picks up on the second ring, his voice full of sleep. “Sabrina.”
“Someone’s breaking into my apartment,” I whisper.
“Go into the bathroom and lock the door. Take your phone with you.” I hear him getting dressed. “Now, baby. Move,” he says more firmly.
I jump up from my chair, doing as he says.
“I need to call it in,” he says. “I’m calling you back in thirty seconds. Promise.”
“Okay.” I’m still whispering, and hanging up is killing me, but I do. I start counting. I only get to twenty-two before my phone dings.
“I’m back. Cops are less than five minutes out, and I’m right behind them. When they get there, they’re going to identify themselves. If the culprit is still there, they’ll detain them and wait for me.”
He keeps me on the phone, and I can tell he’s climbing stairs. He must be in the building. “I’m here, Bri. Come out of the bathroom and open the door.”
I come out of the bathroom to hear rapping on the door and Alex calling my name. I whip open the door and fly into his arms.
“Shh, baby. I got you. You’re safe.”
ONE
Drunk and Stupid
SABRINA
The warmth of his arms around me heats my ice-cold body. I’m shaking so badly that Alex begins to soothingly rub his hand up and down my back.
“It’s all right. Everything is fine. You’re safe,” he says gently in my ear. “Breathe in.” I do. “And out.” I do. I continue to breathe with him until my heart stops hammering against my chest, threatening to explode.
My head is in the crook of his neck, my eyes shut tight, but I can’t ignore his scent. Manly and musky. I want to crawl into his lap and just spend the rest of my days there, shutting out the world. But this is wrong, me leaning on someone else for comfort when I need to get it together and figure out my own shit.
I need to know, so I finally have the courage to ask, “Did you get him?”
“He’s just a guy who had too much to drink and was trying to open his own door, only he couldn’t remember which door was his. He tried several before passing out down the hall where we found him. He lives one floor down.”
Now I feel even more stupid. I called Alex in the middle of the night over nothing, when I’m sure he has better things to do than rush to my aid. As much as I don’t want to, I pull back, putting some space between us. I raise my eyes to meet his.
He’s so handsome. He could be a model. He’s so tall that I need to bend my head all the way back to meet his gaze. He has thick dark hair that I itch to run my fingers through. It curls around his ears in natural waves. I’m sure his luscious lips I want pressed against mine taste like cinnamon. But his eyes are his most striking feature. They’re deep dark brown, but when he gets passionate they turn a smooth milk chocolate, and they see through to the very heart of me. I swear he can feel my thoughts.
I flatten my hands against his chest and take another calming breath before trying to say anything coherent. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Then I catch a glimpse of the two policemen outside my door awaiting Alex’s instructions. I could have called Damian, my best friend’s fiancé and Alex’s partner, who is a detective just like Alex, but I instinctively called Alex. “Or the police. You gentlemen have more than enough work without a crazy woman calling about a rattle at her door.” I push at his chest, but he doesn’t let go.
“Sabrina, up here, baby,” he says, wanting my attention. I give it to him, looking up at him. “We’re exactly who you should call. What would happen if some poor old woman opened her door tomorrow morning and found some man lying there? Poor old girl would have a heart attack. Or let’s say some kid heard someone at his door and opened it and this guy stumbled in. And it could have been someone dangerous. This time, it wasn’t, but we never take that chance. You did the right thing. You did a good thing, and not just for you. We need to consider how the actions of one man can affect others, and even though this guy just had too much, you don’t know him or how drinking affects him.”
As dumb as it sounds, I get hung up on one thing he said. “I did the right thing?”
