A Shattered Moment (Fractured Lives 1)

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. Even in the dim light I could tell he was troubled.

“Because you’re kind of freaking me ou—” Before I could finish my statement, he covered my mouth with his, cutting off any further talk. His kiss was rough and forceful, but I took it eagerly. The passion that seemed to surface when Bentley and I were intimate flared to life as I moved restlessly beneath his body, responding to the assault of his mouth on mine. In the month that we’d been sleeping together, this was as aggressive as he’d ever been. It was scary and exciting at the same time. I wanted to beg him to tell me what was wrong, but the sensations he had evoked wouldn’t allow my mouth to ruin the moment.

We practically tore the clothes from our bodies, tugging and pulling until we were gloriously naked. Bentley buried his head in my shoulder, biting it just enough to sting, but not enough to leave a mark. He reached for the box on his nightstand, throwing it across the room after quickly tearing open the condom package. He entered me in one swift movement, taking my breath away. He filled me completely and was in full control, taking what he wanted. I couldn’t help gasping as he moved fast and hard like he was trying to finish a race. My passion became clouded in confusion. Something clearly wasn’t right. Knowing he was hurting, I stroked a hand softly down his back, hoping it would calm whatever was hurting him. I may not have spoken the word “love” yet, but it didn’t mean I didn’t care deeply for him. Seeing Bentley like this was tearing me up inside.

His movements slowed, coming to a halt as my hand continued to gently stroke the length of his back. All the forcefulness left him as he slumped heavily on me. I soothingly massaged his head, which was still buried in my neck. After a moment, he lifted himself onto his elbows, keeping our bodies joined.

“Am I too heavy?” His hand found my face, brushing my hair back before he placed a tender kiss on my temple.

“No,” I replied. His loosened body language indicated he was much calmer than he had been seconds ago. Featherlight kisses moved down over my eyelids, which fluttered closed. The difference in his touch was night and day. He kissed me tentatively like he was seeking permission before claiming my mouth. I took him in, running my hands over his back in slow gentle circles.

This time when he started moving again inside me, he was as gentle as his tongue. My desire returned with each thrust. His free hand continued to stroke my face as my hips matched his pace. We were moving as one. I moaned, feeling myself reaching the point where I needed to go. Bentley increased his tempo, helping me reach the peak. I stiffened under him as I shuddered into what felt like a million pieces. He continued moving until his own release came seconds later.

He collapsed on top of me with us both breathing as if we’d climbed a mountain. Neither of us said a word even though I was dying to know what was wrong. I resumed caressing his back, figuring he’d say something eventually. His breathing evened out, and I wondered if he had fallen asleep until he lifted himself off me and headed to the bathroom to clean up.

I sat up in the bed, watching his retreating backside. The moment felt awkward and I wondered if I should get dressed. Maybe he wanted me to leave. I was still lying in bed confused when he returned. He climbed next to me, dragging me backward until I was spooned in his arms. He left a sweet kiss on my neck, stroking a hand up and down the length of my arm. I wanted to talk to him, but the mood in the room was almost tranquil, and after a few minutes my eyelids began to droop. I tried to stay awake, but my eyes were no longer cooperating. My last conscious thought was of Bentley exhaling deeply, like he’d been holding his breath.

The bed beside me was empty the next morning when I woke up. I saw my bag sitting on the floor, which meant Bentley had gone down to my car to get it. I got up and placed the bag on the bed, pawing through it to find a clean pair of jeans and my favorite pullover sweater. Once I had dressed and cleaned up a little in the bathroom, I walked out to search for Bentley. I found him in the living room watching some sports channel.

“Hey,” he greeted me. I eyed him critically for a moment, trying to read his mood.

“Hey,” I answered quietly, joining him on the couch.

He switched off the TV before turning to face me. He reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together. I watched as his mouth opened and then closed as if he had reconsidered what he wanted to say. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said finally. His voice was slightly hoarse, like he was coming down with something. “I shouldn’t have been so rough,” he continued, looking me over carefully like he was checking for marks or something.

“It’s okay. What happened anyway?”

“Bad day at work.” He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.

“Oh.” The single word stuck in my throat. In all my possible scenarios, I neglected to think his mood had something to do with his job. I assumed it had something to do with us.

“Yeah. Big car accident on I-4.”

I wanted to tell him to stop or selfishly plug my ears to block him out. I froze, sitting like a statue as he talked. “It was awful. Three cars were involved. One was a minivan.” He ran his free hand over his head like he was trying to erase the image from his head. Images of my own accident filled my head. I saw the crushed Suburban clearly as if it happened only yesterday.

“Witnesses said the van flipped several times.” His voice shook slightly. I pulled my hand from his, though he didn’t notice. I didn’t want to hear any more. I couldn’t. It was too much. Too hard. Too painful. Too crushing. I made a move to stand up, but his next words sent me whirling out of control. “Everyone in the van died. Both parents and their three little kids. One of them was a goddamn baby. A baby, for Christ’s sake.” He sounded distressed. The words propelled me off the couch. He watched with bewilderment as I snatched my purse and keys off the coffee table. My bag was in his room, but I didn’t even attempt to retrieve it. I needed to leave. Like now.

“Mac, where are you going?” he called after me as I pulled the door open so fiercely I was surprised it didn’t come off the hinges. I didn’t answer him. My only objective was to leave as quickly as possible.

Bentley followed me, pulling on my arm to stop me. “Mac, what the hell is going on?” I avoided looking at him as I jerked my arm free. I was afraid to answer. Afraid of what would escape from my mouth in my frantic state. He easily kept pace with me as I made my way to the stairs, cursing my leg. I would have given anything at that moment to be able to run away and keep running. Anything to escape, but my leg held me up like it was encased in cement.

“Mackenzie,” Bentley pleaded, grabbing my hand and finally bringing me to a stop. It was the first time he’d used my old name. The effect was instantaneous as I ground to a halt to glare at him. “Answer me. Are you mad about last night? Did I hurt you? You have to talk to me. You’re ripping out my guts here. I need to know what’s going on in your head.”

I looked at him, feeling a deep hurt that matched the look on his face. That was my fault. I was responsible for the pain he was feeling. Knowing that did not stop the words that left my mouth. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what? What can’t you do?” His voice softened as he tried to make sense of my words.

“All of this. I can’t be the girl you want me to be. I can’t love you. I can’t support you and I sure as hell can’t hear about your job. Do you understand that? I am not a whole person. I’m as broken as the window you found me behind the night of my accident. Listening to you tell me about some accident on I-4 feels like you’re reaching into me with a dull spoon and removing the last of my heart. I’m shattered, Bentley.” I pulled my hand away. This time he let go willingly. Turning on my heel, I limped away, leaving him behind. Now he would finally see why I had insisted on kee

ping to myself for so long. I didn’t have it in my heart to support anyone other than myself.

I made it to my car without completely breaking down. What had I done? The pain in my heart was so intense I literally couldn’t breathe. By now, you would think I could handle this kind of pain. That it would feel normal. It should have been as comfortable as a pair of old shoes, but it was none of those. It was raw and more abrasive than I remembered.

I pulled out of the parking lot, ignoring the checklist of steps I usually had to complete before I felt comfortable enough to drive. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I had no idea where to go. No destination in mind. I just drove. I left the campus behind, driving through a residential area that bled into businesses and stores. Eventually, my tears dried up, but that didn’t mean I felt any better.

I looked both ways as I approached a stop sign at a two-way intersection. My eyes focused on two little girls who were skipping along the sidewalk, holding hands. Memories of my best friend flooded me when I noticed that their pinkies were linked.

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