Beautifully Destroyed (Beautifully Broken)

Quinn nudges my arm with her elbow. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.” Resting my head on her shoulder, I take in the different shades of blue that stretch to the horizon. “It’s so peaceful.”

“It is,” Quinn sighs happily. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

I just wish Dad could come home. I don’t think I’ll feel safe again until he’s with me.

As I stare at the scenic view, feelings boil in my chest. Everything feels off-balance. Nothing’s familiar, not my body, not my heartbeat, not even touching my cousin.

It’s like I’ve been thrown into a foreign place where everything has the power to hurt me.

My memories of before the attack have been tainted, and I haven’t been able to strum my fingers over my guitar chords.

He destroyed everything.

And he’s still out there.

ETHAN

I lean my forearms on the counter and smile at Barb. “Do you have my schedule?”

She picks up a piece of paper and sets it down before me. “We need to computerize these and save a tree in the process,” she says. “The snake booked you for two hours.”

I groan internally when I see Chelsea’s coming in at one this afternoon.

When I lift my gaze to Barb’s, she tilts her head and gives me a serious look. “You need to tell her to stop molesting you.”

I grimace at her choice of words. “It’s not that bad, B.”

“It is what it is, Ethan. Either you tell her, or I’m going to end up punching her.”

My lips curve up. “My hero.”

“Heroine,” she corrects me. A curious expression flutters over her face. “I hear Quinn’s cousin moved here.”

Taking a deep breath, I nod. “Yeah.”

“What’s she like?”

Scared shitless of her own shadow.

“Quiet. She’s introverted.”

“All the Drakes are,” Barb comments. “What’s her name?”

“Finlay.”

“She’s younger than you, right?”

My eyebrow lifts. “Yeah. I think she’s eighteen.”

Barb’s eyes drift over my face as if she’s searching for something. “What does Finlay look like?”

She’s fucking beautiful. Her eyes hold the power of a hurricane, her skin’s soft and creamy white, begging to be touched. Her lips, perfect bows, made for long nights of kissing.

A frown joins my raised eyebrow. “What’s with all the questions?”

Barb shrugs. “Just curious.” She leans closer, also resting her forearms on the counter. “Carl said Frank told him the girl is beautiful. You know Frank’s grumpy as hell, and for him to say something like that means the girl’s a real beauty. All the single men will probably flock to her.”

“And?” I shake my head at Barb.

“You have a head start, Ethan. It’s not every day Southport gets new blood. Get the girl before some other idiot swipes her up.”

Letting out a chuckle, I pull back from the counter. “Trust me, B. None of the guys in town stand a chance with Finlay.”

Barb scrunches her nose. “Why?”

I shake my head, and wanting to change the subject, I say, “Do you have time to put the schedules on the computer, or should I ask Carl?”

“I’ll see if I can do it. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks, B.” Heading toward the swimming pool to check the water, I get back to work while I think of Quinn’s birthday that’s this coming weekend. Eli’s going to propose to her.

The thought makes a smile play around my mouth.

I’m happy for my brother, and I’m not surprised he wants to put a ring on Quinn’s finger.

Worry ripples through me, knowing I’ll have to see Finlay. I’ve done my best to avoid anywhere she might be.

Yeah, none of the guys in Southport stand a chance with Finlay. Not unless she learns to chill.

“Ethan-darling,” Chelsea’s overly sweet voice calls out. “You coming?” worry

I feel the sigh coming from my soul before it drifts over my lips. Glancing up to where she’s halfway up the stairs, I force a smile to my face. “Warm up on the rowing machine.”

She blows me a kiss before heading to the cardio section. As I lower my eyes, Barb catches my attention where she’s pretending to gag.

She widens her eyes at me and drags her finger across her throat, probably telling me to have the no-touching talk with Chelsea before she ends up killing her.

I dry my hands on a towel and leave the pool area while wondering how I’m going to approach the topic without offending Chelsea.

I walk toward where she’s rowing way too slow to warm her muscles. Stopping a safe distance from her, I say, “Pick up your pace.”

She smiles and bats her lash extensions at me. “Slave driver. I love it when you get all bossy with me.”

Checking the time on my wristwatch, I say, “Keep the pace for ten minutes.”

I head into the studio and start to set everything up for the next self-defense class. I’ve just checked that the sparring gear has been cleaned when a hand settles on my back. My skin instantly crawls at the touch, then Chelsea moves her palm lower.