Unbreak My Heart, page 1
Unbreak My Heart
A With Love, From Kurrajong Crossing Romance
Dakota Harrison
Unbreak My Heart
Copyright© 2024 Dakota Harrison
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing 2024
Cover design by Lee Hyat Designs
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AI was not used to create any part of this book and no part of this book may be used for generative training.
ISBN: 978-1-962707-38-1
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
The With Love, From Kurrajong Crossing series
About the Author
Chapter One
February
Simon jerked upright in bed, the sweat-soaked sheets twisted and tangled around his legs, as if he’d been fighting them. The light of the full moon that streamed through his window washed out the bright blue of the sheets to a faded version of itself that seemed to blend with the shadows of the room.
He shoved his shaking hands over his face and scrubbed at the days’ old stubble and too-long hair that flopped over his eyes.
Glancing to his left, the digital numbers on his clock slowly coalesced into something with meaning.
Three AM.
Every. Freaking. Day.
He didn’t know what it was about this witching hour, but every night was the same.
Suffocating nightmares filled with desperation and soul-crushing agony.
Nightmares that morphed into reality each day, as dawn split the night sky.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees and just … sat there.
Even knowing now that Max and Lucy’s marriage had originally been about him taking care of her while she was sick, Simon had seen how Lucy’s death had hit his older brother. It had nearly wrecked the man.
Something he now understood all too well.
He didn’t know how Max had survived it. Sure, Simon’s crying jags had stopped—mostly. It was only when something caught him unaware that the tears now hit.
Something like kids.
His little nephew Finn’s face flashed into his mind. Almost a year old and he had the entire family wrapped around one chubby little finger. Not to mention the new baby—due any day now.
Simon could barely stand to be in the same room. Not with any of them.
He knew it was stupid. Knew it was unreasonable and overreacting and all those hideous things.
But he couldn’t help it.
Something that should have been the best moments of the life he and Amy had built … stolen. Joy and anticipation had been replaced with heartache and avoidance. It was as if his life had simply hit pause.
His parents had tried to help—hell, everyone had tried to help—and it was simply too much. Too many people trying to cheer him up. Too many people in his face all damned day long. He’d let the lease run out on the home they had rented, couldn’t handle being alone in those rooms where Amy should have been.
At least he hadn’t had to deal with getting rid of any baby stuff. They hadn’t got that far yet. But the house, the car, everything else?
Gone. Sold.
Even his wedding ring. He’d taken that off only a few weeks ago. He didn’t want to be like Max, who had worn his ring for years, a reminder of something that could never be fixed, never moving on until recently. Simon’s ring was now packed away in a box in the hall cupboard.
He had been staying with Gabe and Emma …
A shudder ran down his spine. He’d had to leave. He should have known he couldn’t handle being anywhere near Gabe’s farm, particularly if he had to see that paddock. He hadn’t set foot in there since the day it had happened. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Max and Millie, what with the baby due; and he certainly didn’t want to move back home with his parents, as much as his mother wanted him to.
So, Darby had given him the use of her small house in town, after she moved out to Ryan’s farm.
It gave him a place to stay and didn’t deliver too many hits on the memory scale.
He pushed up off the bed, hauled on a T-shirt and shorts, and yanked his sneakers on.
May as well go for a run, since I’m awake.
He shoved his phone in his pocket and let himself out the front door. It wasn’t necessary to lock it. The Crossing was a safe place and he’d be back soon, anyway.
Feet pounding the pavement, he headed toward the Lakewalk. The wide boardwalk ran around beneath the bridge and down in front of the shops, all the way over toward the weir at the other end. It was a good, long run, and this time of night—or morning—not another single soul was in sight.
He hadn’t bothered with earphones, knowing he wouldn’t run into anyone. It allowed the night sounds of the mountain town to invade his body instead, a calming balm that reached deep and tried to soothe, the bright stars above flickering their cold, beautiful light, oblivious to his mortal problems.
He loved where he lived, had never wanted to be anywhere else. Family meant too much to him. Besides, his education was severely lacking, and he’d find getting a job in another town problematic.
No. The Crossing was home and, right or wrong, putting up with well-meaning people came with the territory.
It just made dealing with them on a daily basis pretty darned hard.
The solid, rhythmic slap of his sneakers hitting the thick wooden boards of the Lakewalk intruded, the sound distinct and hollow compared to the bitumen now behind him.
Simon glanced at the lit windows of the shops fronting the Lakewalk, letting the happy little snapshots of the businesses wash over him.
Cat’s cupcake shop drew his attention and he almost tripped over his own feet as he stumbled to a stop.
Bright blood-red, white, and silver beamed out at him, her custom track lighting highlighting the display, and hollowing out his stomach at the sight before him.
Valentine’s Day.
Red hearts and teddies and chocolates sat enshrined in the two huge windows, some even being stuck to the windows themselves.
It was beautiful, if you liked that kind of thing.
Cold sweat broke out all over him. His stomach churned and he spun to the Lakewalk railing and leaned over it, in case his stomach made good on the heaving and forced his dinner from his body.
Valentine’s Day. His wedding anniversary.
He pulled his phone from his pocket with shaking hands and tapped the screen to light it up.
Wednesday, 14 February.
It was today.
Amy had chosen the romantic date for their wedding, cheekily explaining that it would be impossible for him to forget it that way.
All strength went out of his legs and he sank to the boardwalk, hunching over his bent knees, wrapping his arms around his legs, his whole body shaking.
He didn’t know how long he sat there before soft footsteps intruded. He jerked back at the gentle touch of a hand to his shoulder.
“Simon?”
Cat Hart’s worried voice hit his ears as her face registered, reflected in the light from her shop across the Lakewalk. He looked at her compassionate eyes.
“Are you all right? Do you need me to call someone?”
He was shaking his head before she finished speaking, not sure which question he was answering.
“How do I help you?”
The concern in her voice undid him further. He struggled to his feet. Cat had always been so damned nice. Not only to him, but to everyone she came across. It was in her blood.
He motioned to her shop. “V-Day. I-it’s …” Scrubbing his hand over his mouth, he pushed on. “It’s our anniversary.”
Compassion lined her face and her eyes filled. Simon looked away. He couldn’t handle seeing her upset, especially because he was the cause.
He glanced down the boardwalk. The weak, predawn gloom was tingeing everything a strange, dark, muddy grey.
“I went for a run. Saw your window and …” He shrugged. She’d known him forever; he knew she’d understand. “It just caught me by surprise. I haven’t been watching TV or anything l
He saw her nod from his peripheral vision.
The gentle cheeriness in her voice hit him like a ton of bricks.
“Do you want to come in? You can come through the back. I’ll make you a cuppa? And I have some awesome muffins out back that I just know you’d like.”
Simon stumbled backward, shaking his head. He couldn’t go in there. “Nah. I’m good. Bye.”
He knew he was being abrupt, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to escape. But he knew Cat would understand why.
“I’ll bring you some around later, then.”
Simon nodded and spun away, lurching into a jog that fast became a sprint as he headed toward the weir end of the Lakewalk.
The burbling of Max’s personal tone jerked Simon from his sprint. He slowed to a walk, breath heaving, and swiped at the phone, seeing the family group chat come up.
Millie’s gone into labour. Has had pains since yesterday. Headed for the hospital now.
Simon’s breath stalled and his heart thunked in his chest. He stood staring at the message, unable to think clearly.
His eyes swam and he rasped in a deep breath, his lungs burning.
Millie was having the baby.
On his first wedding anniversary without his wife.
A gasping huff flew from his lips, a horrible cross between a laugh and what was most likely the sound of the last pieces of his heart shredding apart.
He hit reply with a thumbs-up emoji, then turned the phone off, looking toward the west.
Mallory-Jayne’s hotel was off to his right, the Art Deco lights spreading a warmth that seemed to reach for him through the waning night.
He veered off to his left, toward the weir, and pounded into the lessening gloom.
*
Simon stepped into the Fox Club bar in Bialga. It wasn’t packed, but a surprising number of people still milled around despite it being the middle of the week. He glanced at his watch.
Ten PM.
This morning he’d run until he was a shaking mess, reaching his house as the sun started peeking over the mountain behind the houses in their small town. The cloying sense of the walls closing in was almost too much to cope with, so he’d booked a room at a hotel in nearby Bialga, just down the block from this nightclub.
Heading to the bar, he glanced at the dance floor where couples had either paired up or were coming together, moving in that slow, intimate grind that came with the promise of one singular end result.
Averting his gaze, he caught the attention of the bartender.
“What can I getcha?” the young woman asked.
“Two double scotches. No rocks.”
Her eyebrows raised but she said nothing and grabbed the mid-level bottle behind her. He preferred a good single malt, but wasn’t about to get fussy tonight.
Tonight was about forgetting.
She placed them in front of him and he could tell by the look on her face that she was concerned enough that she was open to chatting if he needed it.
Not today.
Tapping his phone to the EFTPOS machine, he nodded his thanks and grabbed both drinks, spying a table in a dim corner at the back of the room.
That would do nicely.
He sat with his back to the wall and knocked back the first glass, eyes stinging as it burned all the way down his throat.
He sat the glass down carefully on a coaster, and picked up the second, swirling the golden liquid around the glass in time with the beat of the music that threatened to deafen him.
He shouldn’t have come out tonight. Shouldn’t be here, of all places. But at least with the music so loud, it forestalled conversation and made it difficult to even think. He could hide and pretend everything was fine, could pretend his life wasn’t falling down around his ears.
Could pretend he was coping.
Two months since he’d lost both of them. Two freaking months of coming home to realise she wasn’t there—would never be there again.
He’d silenced his phone earlier. It still vibrated in his pocket, so he knew if he had a message. It wasn’t like he’d gone completely AWOL. But he didn’t have to listen to the constant message tones of his family as they all kept him updated with what was going on at the hospital.
They’d all be there. Every last one of them. They’d be there supporting each other while they waited for the baby to make an entrance. Which was great. He wanted that for Max and Millie. He just didn’t want to be part of it. Not yet.
Another buzz in his pocket.
He yanked the phone out to see what set it off this time.
Si, it’s a girl! I have a daughter.
Max.
Simon’s face tightened and his hands shook as he replied.
That’s great, man. I’m really happy for you. Am in Bialga. Have had a few. I’ll stop by tomorrow to see you all, K?
He waited as the dots bounced while Max replied. He knew they all could see where he was. They all had their location settings on for each other, always had. It was just how they did things, and he was fine with it.
Max sent through a thumbs up, then—
It’s fine. I understand. And no one expects you to be here. I don’t expect you to be here, okay? I just wanted you to know. We called her Juliet. Juliet Amy Jameson.
Simon’s eyes misted up. He downed the rest of the second glass and gritted his teeth. He’d known this was a possibility. They’d asked him if it was okay. He’d stupidly said yes.
He hadn’t realised how it would make him feel when it actually happened, though.
He knew if he asked, they’d change it.
He refused to do that to them. They deserved closure and to honour Amy however they wanted to.
The bartender stopped in front of him, and he glanced up, her form slightly blurry from the damned stinging in his eyes. He blinked rapidly to try to clear them.
“Done with these?” she asked. Compassion filled her eyes.
He nodded. “Can I grab two more of those?”
She nodded once. “Sure. Just go a bit slower, eh?”
He sent her a smile, which probably looked more like a twisted grimace on his face, then sent back a thumbs-up emoji to his brother.
He’d just get through today. He’d let himself wallow for one night, then get on with it tomorrow. He just wanted tonight.
To be near people who didn’t know what had happened.
To not have to avoid looking at people’s faces because they knew and didn’t know what to say to him.
To simply … forget.
To forget that wanting a child so badly had caused him to lose both Amy and the new little life that had been growing inside her.
The new drinks appeared before him and he paid, then glanced around the room, twirling the glass nearest to him around on its coaster.
Forgetting would be the biggest blessing he could ever ask for.
*
Evangeline Adams glanced again at the cute guy sitting all alone in the corner.
A desolate air seeped from him, seeming to stain the air around him. She hadn’t wanted to come out tonight, but her best friend, Sam, had nagged until she’d given in. Sam’s new boyfriend was in town tonight and wanted to catch up with her, and Sam hadn’t wanted to wait at the nightclub by herself.
The pair had gone off on their own over half an hour ago, fully expecting Eva to have left too, but she hadn’t been able to, hadn’t been able to stop looking at the guy who seemed to have the weight of the world sitting on those very nice, impressively wide shoulders.
Thick, messy, slightly shaggy black hair framed a handsome, but not excessively pretty, face. Not like some of the guys on the hunt in here tonight, manscaped within an inch of their lives, all coiffed and buffed and shiny, as if they’d popped out of the same cookie-cutter machine that dispensed pretty boys.
She almost laughed aloud. Boys, they were. Heck, none of them could’ve been over twenty-five.
But him … He was definitely older. And he wasn’t ogling the younger women who strutted around on the dance floor with their tiny little dresses and miniskirts.
Smiling to herself, she admitted she would’ve been one of them ten years ago. And all glory to them. They looked great. But her life had moved past that now, to a day filled with her career that was just taking off, and her nights with her gorgeous little man about the house—her two-year-old son.
