Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

You have to give him another chance.

Dorothea was willing to do anything her sister asked—except that. A life with Jazz would never make her happy. But every time she tried to tell her sister the marriage was over for good, Holly had cursed Daniel, then cursed Dorothea herself.

Even Charity had cornered Dorothea. She required relationship help, she’d said, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Her romance with Jazz had crumbled like a condemned house, and she had no idea what to do. She thought he might be seeing another woman.

Shocker! The man who’d cheated on his wife to be with another woman might be cheating on his girlfriend? What were the odds?

Charity had also asked for Dorothea’s help with the town members. Apparently she and Jazz interviewed many of the residents, but no one had given air-able answers to any of their questions.

They support me, Dorothea had realized. Thanks to her mother, news of Jazz’s infidelity had spread.

Dorothea understood her mother’s reasoning—revenge—but come on! What happened to loyalty?

Lately Daniel was the only one who put her needs above all others.

Which was how he’d almost convinced her to shower with the lights on. In the end, she’d chickened out, using Jude as an excuse. Jude had created a website that would allow her to live stream news about the weather—if ever she decided to do so. Every morning he gave her a crash course in using and maintaining it, and she used the lessons as an excuse to avoid a sexy lights-on shower with Daniel. The refusal irritated him, and she had a sinking suspicion he was now avoiding her.

Despite his loyalty—or maybe because of it?—he never stayed overnight with her at the inn. He always returned to his dad’s place. When he returned the next morning, he would be bleary-eyed and cranky.

Only once had she asked him to stay with her, but he’d refused.

“Better this way,” he’d said.

“For who?”

“You.”

Maybe he was right, but she’d begun to fret. Did he crave his next challenge? Did he regret being with her?

Twice he’d asked her about her scars and her inability to have a baby. She hadn’t given him any answers. If he couldn’t trust her enough to spend the night together, how could she trust him with her darkest secrets?

To her consternation, her silence only widened the gulf between them.

Dorothea finished cleaning Charity’s room, a particularly humiliating task. Not that the news anchor had left any kind of mess. Charity had actually been quite...charitable. She’d picked up her own trash and made sure her dirty towels were piled in the tub rather than strewn across the floor. Jazz hadn’t been so tidy, had left soda cans and candy bar wrappers everywhere.

Today, Dorothea decided not to clean up after him. She’d left clean towels on his bathroom sink and taken off. Considering she’d paid for his schooling, cooked his meals for years while working two jobs, she’d done enough for him.

Ready for lunch, she returned her cart to the storage closet. On her way to the kitchen, she stopped to check out the progress of the theme room.

The door was ajar. Odd. Daniel, Harlow and Jessie Kay wouldn’t have forgotten to shut it; there was a sign taped to both the outside and inside, acting as a reminder. And the lock engaged automatically.

Frowning, Dorothea stepped inside—

And screamed. No. No, no, no. Someone had dumped buckets of paint over the beautiful murals. Clumps of red, blue and orange had dripped onto the brand-new hardwood floor. The one of a kind curtains and comforter were shredded, the pieces scattered throughout the room like confetti. The headboard Daniel had exhausted himself carving was gouged from top to bottom and as splattered with paint as the floor.

Who would... Why would... How...

Her mind skipped from question to question without finishing a single one. The horror of the destruction was simply too much to process.

A sob welled in Dorothea’s throat as she backed out of the room.

“Daniel,” she screamed. One step, two, she began to run. “Daniel!” She didn’t care that things were strained between them. She wanted him. She wanted him right now.

Jazz came barreling out of his room, his expression twisted with concern. “Dorothea? What’s wrong?”

She bypassed him, shouting, “Daniel!”

“Dorothea,” Jazz called. “Let me—”

Her pace increased. Tears burned her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “Daniel!”

“Thea!” She heard Daniel’s gruff, familiar voice a split second before he snaked around the corner and caught her. His strong arms enfolded her, holding her tight. “What’s wrong, love? What happened?”

“The paint. The material.” Her tears flowed faster as her chin trembled.

“I don’t understand.” He cupped her cheeks in a gentle grip. Gentle, but forceful enough to ensure she faced him. He’d never looked more tortured. “Help me understand what’s going on, and I’ll fix it. I swear to you, I’ll fix everything.”

Finally the sob she’d managed to stave off escaped.

“She was coming out of a room,” Jazz said, coming up behind her. He must have followed her. “I—”

Daniel pointed an accusing finger at him. “What did you do?”

Jazz raised his hands, palms out. The color drained from his cheeks. “I did nothing. I only sought to help her.”

“The room,” she managed to squeeze past the lump growing in her throat. “Someone trashed the room.”

“The theme room?” Daniel asked, his voice now deadly calm.

She nodded, and oh, the cruelty of the act. The absolute maliciousness. What had she ever done to deserve this? Who had she hurt so badly they decided to destroy her dream in retaliation?

Daniel picked her up, cradling her against his chest. He kissed her temple before carrying her up the steps without jarring her.

Inside her room, he eased her onto the bed. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

“No. Stay with me.” She clutched his shirt, trying to hold him in place. Clinging was beneath her, and it embarrassed her to the depths of her soul, but her strength was gone. Zapped. She would rather have Daniel than her principles.

“I’ll be right back, love,” he vowed, his voice so tender it tore something deep inside her. “I just want to look at the damage.”

A moment passed. She forced herself to release him.

After a prolonged hesitation, he disappeared out the door.

I give up. She dragged her knees to her chest, huddling on the mattress. Shaking. Wallowing.

A cry sounded deep inside her: Enough! She’d had to pick herself up a thousand times before; this would be no different. This wasn’t even a big deal. It set her back, sure. Set her back a lot, even. She couldn’t afford new flooring. Harlow might not be willing to redo the murals, and Jessie Kay might not be willing to sew new curtains and a comforter. Daniel would definitely redo the headboard. It was the sheer nastiness of the act that undid her.

Only a few people had unrestricted access to the room. Harlow, Jessie Kay and Daniel, of course. And Carol and Holly, who had master keys.