Hard to Fight (Alpha's Heart, #1)

He looks over at me, and I nod.

“Let it go, honey. You have to forgive yourself so you can move on from this. You deserve to be happy. She’d want that for you.”

His jaw goes tight, and he stares down at the headstone. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me. I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough. I’m sorry I let you down.”

My throat goes tight and tears burn under my eyelids but I don’t say anything. I let him talk because he needs to talk. He needs to let this go so he can move on. He needs to forgive himself for what happened to Kelly.

“I’m sorry you had to go so early,” he whispers. “But I know you forgive me, sis. You want to know how?”

I swallow.

“I know you forgive me because you brought me Grace.”

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from crying.

“You lost your life, but you made sure I had mine. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have found her. She makes me happy, kid. And that’s thanks to you. I only wish you could be here to show her that fuckin’ beautiful smile of yours.”

I can’t stop it now; I hiccup and choke back a sob.

Raide squeezes my hand. “I love you, Kel, and I miss you every goddamned day.” He turns to me, and his eyes are glassy. “Thank you … She doesn’t have many people.”

I nod, swallowing. “She has you, honey. That’s more than enough.”

He looks down at the headstone again, and then wraps an arm around me. “Come on, it’s freezing.”

He turns me back toward the car, but I stop him halfway there. “Just … hang on. I left something behind.”

He nods and watches as I turn and rush back to Kelly’s graveside. I glance back to see he’s already gotten into the car, so I kneel down and pull a single rose from my jacket. I place it on her grave, and then I run my fingers over her headstone. “I never knew you, but I know what you meant to him. I know you loved him and I know he loved you. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I wish that we could have had the chance to be friends. I can’t give you much, but I promise you”—my voice grows strong—“I promise you, Kelly, that I’ll take care of him. I swear it.”

And I will.

Until the day I stop breathing.





Read on for a sneak preview of the next Alpha’s Heart novel by Bella Jewel



HARD TO BREAK



Available October 2015 from St. Martin’s Press!





PROLOGUE


Exhaustion threatens to take over my tired, aching body as I walk carefully down the stairs. My eyes are burning from the lack of sleep in the past few days and my feet are hating me for every painful step I take. My house is dark, but I know he’s down there because I can hear him retching. Frustration seizes my chest, a savage twist to my heart, as my feet slowly take me closer to a scene I’m so tired of acting out.

“Quinn?” he cries between retching. “Quinn!”

Swallowing down the anger threatening to rise and explode from my chest, I walk with numb legs towards the bathroom. I step over an empty bottle of whiskey on my way there, the remainder of its contents soaked into the carpet for me to clean up once again. I put my hand to the slightly ajar bathroom door and push it open, stepping inside. My father is on the ground, curled in a ball, covered in vomit.

Pain rises up and flashes through my body as I walk towards him and stare down at his pitiful form. He wasn’t always like this. Before my mother died he was happy, fun loving and clean. Now he’s a drunk and he has been since the day she was taken from us. I’m the only person in the world who cares enough to stand by his side, no matter how hard that is at times.

“Dad, you need to get up and into the shower. I have to clean this mess up.”

He groans and rolls to his back, his shirt soaked with stale sweat. My shoulders slump and I know there’s just no way I’ll get him into the shower. He’s too drunk, too far gone. Instead I go to the sink and fill it up, and then I take a washcloth and start the daunting task of dabbing him clean. When his shirt is vomit free and his face is wiped clean, I get to work helping him out of the bathroom so I can clean up in there, too.

We make it to the couch before he vomits again. Swallowing down my tears for a third time, I start cleaning up that mess. When I’m done, I force him to drink some water then I go about hiding the remaining alcohol in the house because I know he’ll look for it. He’s too drunk to bother to try too hard. If he can’t find it he will, as always, just pass out.

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