A Shattered Heart (Fractured Lives 2)

Brian twisted his head so he could see what I found so funny. "I can't believe Jessica agreed to go out with Clint," he said. I nodded my head in agreement. Clint was nice and all, but he was quiet and studious while Jessica was the complete opposite in every way.

We watched as Clint attempted to twirl Jessica across the floor. His grip on her slipped, making her collide with another couple. Jessica's apology was more of a grimace as she made her way back to Clint, who we could hear apologizing profusely to her.

"Neither can we, but I think she really likes him."

Brian's eyebrows shot up with surprise. "No shit?"

"She denies it, but look at her. Have you ever seen her so docile? Normally she'd be on her tenth dance partner by now. She's been dancing with Clint since we all got here," I said as Zach and Mackenzie joined us on the dance floor. Mac smiled at me as she looped her arms casually around Zach's shoulders.

"So the underdog gets the girl," Brian mused in my ear, tightening his hold on my waist and pulling me fractionally closer. My chest came into contact with his and I almost pulled away. Dan was the only one who was allowed to hold me this close. But this was Brian, Dan's brother. He was practically family to me. This was his way of giving me a chance to enjoy prom; that was all.

My body relaxed against his as I tightened my hold around his neck. I rested my cheek against his shoulder as we swayed to the music. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck rustling the few hairs that had escaped the elaborate braid I'd had done.

"Are you trying to steal my girl?" Dan asked, joining us on the dance floor. His eyes were teasing as he tugged me out of his brother's arms and into his own.

"You got me," Brian said, holding up his hands in surrender and winking at me.

I laughed as I nestled into Dan's familiar embrace. "Are you finally going to dance with me now?" I asked.

Dan blanched, making Brian and me laugh again. Dan loved everything music oriented except for dancing.

"Did I hear that right? Is Dan the Man finally going to show us how it's done?" Zach asked.

"You wish, bro," Dan said, slinging an arm across my shoulders as Clint and Jessica and the rest of our crew joined us.

Jessica's eyes shined as she slipped an arm around my waist, linking us together. Mackenzie moved in on her other side with Zach next to her. Tracey slid her arms around Dan's and Zach's waists, closing our circle. Together we forced Dan to dance with us as a group. We laughed as Dan continued to grumble, though he didn't try to pull away. He would tough it out for the group. It was part of a pact we'd all made so many years ago.

Clint and Brian were left on the outside of our cir

cle looking in.

It wasn’t deliberate.

It was just the way it was.

Seven

My head bounced off the mat with a resounding thump. Travis grinned down at me. "Damn, girl, you're off your game today. Or are you trying to let me win?" he asked, his grin slipping.

"You got me," I said, leaping to my feet even though my last trip to the floor had jarred me pretty good. Travis was right. I was off my game today. I could have blamed it being the early hour on a Saturday, but in truth it wasn't like I'd been up half the night partying. After dropping off Brian at the Y, I'd headed home. I'd felt oddly content and even ended up going to bed early, but nightmares had plagued me the entire night. I'd thrown a T-shirt on and some shorts and headed to the gym as soon as it opened. Travis had plans of lifting weights, but I cajoled him into sparring with me instead. I was desperate to take my mind off my dreams and any hidden meanings they may have represented.

"Well, hell. Here I thought I was finally kicking your ass," Travis said.

"Sorry, big boy," I said, rubbing my back, which was a little sore from my last tumble. "I'm done stroking your ego; I'm going to hit the showers. Thanks for the workout."

"I live to please," he said, looking disgruntled. I could have thrown him a bone¸ but where was the fun in that?

I spent the rest of the day cleaning up my place, and Sunday I left my apartment to do some painting. I threw caution to the wind and decided to drag my art supplies to the park I'd always loved near my parents' house. The park boasted oversized shade trees, walking paths, and plenty of opportunities to sketch people. I'd painted my fair share of trees and flowers during the years, but people were my passion. Catching their emotions with a paintbrush was a challenge, but one I enjoyed. My art would never hang in museums or sell for millions of dollars, but it was the one thing that belonged to me.

The park was as busy as expected on a Sunday, but I found a shady spot beneath a large tree with low, sweeping branches near one of the walking paths situated near the basketball courts. My plan was to capture a basketball game onto my canvas.

I was in the process of squirting paint on my palette when a flash of metal in the sun caught my eye. Squinting in the bright sunlight, I spotted a wheelchair rolling along the paved path. I watched it wind along the path heading toward the section where I was. It didn't take much effort to recognize the occupant of the wheelchair. Even huddled against the side of the chair, a shadow of the vibrant person he used to be, I recognized him. His football physique was long gone. Maybe I wouldn't have noticed if not for my recent time with Brian, who was the epitome of health. The closer he got, the more shrunken he looked. I debated packing up my stuff and leaving before he reached the part of the path near me. I still had time. I could have left and he would never know. It would be so easy to flee like I'd done time and time again. I'd been a fool to think I could be this close to home without running into the past.

My feet were rooted, ignoring the messages my brain was trying to send them. They refused to let me leave. I realized a small part of me was morbidly fascinated what his response to me would be. I placed my paint palette on the ground on top of my sketchpad as I waited for him to be wheeled where I stood. Irony. Zach had once been chauffeur to all of us, but now he relied on someone else to shuttle him around.

As he was pushed closer I could see his head was down. It was obvious he couldn't care less about the walk he was on or the nurse who was chattering away as she pushed his chair. I felt waves of pity for him. He was forced to endure everything she said. He couldn't escape like I could.

The chair drew closer and I began to wonder if he would even look up. Maybe he would roll right by me, never knowing I was there. A large part of me hoped for just that. Seeing him up close like this—broken and almost small in a wheelchair—was like a shovel to the face. Zach had been a star at one time. His ego should have been huge. By all rights he could have dumped all of us years ago. The football crew he played with never understood his attachment to our motley crew. Out of all of us only Jessica had come close to his popularity, but in truth even she was light years away. Zach never left us though. Friends for life had been our motto. We were naive assholes.