Brokenhearted Beauty(Divine Creek Ranch 19)(2)

I love you, too, fluff. She knew the masculine voice was a figment of her desperate mind trying to hold on to him. The certainty that came with that final utterance was something she couldn’t understand.

She held his hand to her cheek and stayed utterly still. Even the sound of movement behind her didn’t distract her as she held on to every beat. What she wouldn’t give for one day with him.

Soft, masculine voices whispered in the room and she heard someone sniffle. Her time was up. A chair scraped against the floor but she didn’t lift her head or open her eyes. She was grateful no one had interrupted her overnight vigil. She’d needed that night alone with him to reconcile herself to what she’d lost. What she’d cost them all with her stubbornness.

“I loved you, Patterson. I loved you so much,” she whispered against his chest, praying some part of him was able to hear her words. She brushed her nose against his chest hair, breathing him in once more, and pressed a kiss against his sternum.

A large, warm hand gently stroked the back of her head. “It’s time, honey.”

It was time to walk away. Her hand holding his trembled and released him involuntarily. The tremor spread down her arms. A knot formed in her chest and spun tighter, drawing the rest of her into it until she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, and then it shattered in a climax of utter pain. A soft sound in the room grew in volume until she heard it over the roaring in her head and realized it was her making it. A prolonged sobbing cry that finally broke into a torrent that threatened to cripple her with its strength.

She whispered words to him, words of regret, words of guilt, words of love, and words of good-bye. She didn’t even know what she said—and didn’t care who heard—until she was finally empty. Warm, comforting hands slid over her shoulders and the back of her head. Gentle fingers slid through her hair and stroked her neck, which felt so stiff it would surely break if she so much as turned her head.

“Shhh, doll. You’re hurting yourself.”

Vincent’s comforting tone released her inner spring and she went limp as he lifted her into a ball, curled up in his lap on the bed beside Patterson. Callused hands took hers in their grasp and she finally focused on James as he squatted in front of her. He uncurled her fingers from her palms and she saw the blood pooled in her hands.

“Oh, baby,” James whispered as he reached for a tissue and blotted them until she could see the damage she’d done to her palms with her fingernails. She didn’t feel any pain there because the agony in her heart was too great, but she did see black spots as she looked into James’s teary, bloodshot eyes.

Vincent brushed her hair back from her face where it clung to her damp cheeks. He kissed the side of her head and tightened his embrace around her as everything finally went black and the unbearable pain receded.





Chapter One


July…



Leah flung back the covers with a wild gasp as she bolted upright in bed. “No!”

She looked around the still bedroom, and all the disturbing, painful images finally drifted away to be replaced by reality. Her heart pounded like a drum in her ears and she let out a shaky breath. “Oh, thank God.” It was only a dream.

Her chest cavity ached as she flopped back down on her pillow. When she turned to her side, her cheek encountered the chill of a soaked pillowcase. Frowning, she put a hand up to the dampness and then she fluffed the pillow and repositioned it, wondering what had…

“No,” she whispered, the old pain engulfing her. It wasn’t a dream. Fresh tears leaked from her eyes as she pulled the big body pillow to her and wrapped her arms around it, trying to get comfortable again but having no illusions that sleep would return anytime soon. It never did when she woke like this.

Once upon a time, it had been a different kind of dream about the Elder brothers that had brought her out of a sound sleep…the kind that left her teetering on the edge of orgasm.

The cruelest part was reliving the realization that while it might’ve been a nightmare that had awakened her, the part that she wished was a nightmare was in fact true. Patterson was gone.

Sure, parts of him lived on in several people. He had saved lives with the sacrifice of his own but he was still missing from hers. His grin. The twinkle in his eyes. His sexy chuckle—

“Stop it!” she cried out into the quiet night. “Stop it.”

Thirty minutes later, she emerged from her bedroom, dressed and ready for work. Because it was only four thirty in the morning, she sat down at her dining room table with her tablet, smartphone, and a pad and pen. To-do lists, promotion strategies, and calendars were her means for distracting herself. If she threw herself into her work as forcefully as she could, she would be able to forget for a while.