Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)

Most people I knew could multitask while churning away on an exercise machine. Not me. Music was the only thing that distracted me enough not to say fuck this and hop off the machine to do something productive that I actually enjoyed.

After I finished, I poked my head into my bedroom and saw Boone still sprawled in the same position. I smirked at seeing the scratch on his shoulder blade, knowing he bore my marks in other places, as I bore his. I left the door cracked open and headed to the kitchen. Without the music from my iPod blasting in my ears, the events from the past twelve hours raced through my mind.

Last night had been a revelation.

Okay, a night filled with a bunch of revelations.

We’d hit that explosive physical stage, where sex is everything; a drug, a tonic, a crutch, a relief, a necessity, more vital than food or sleep. I’d never experienced that combustion or that type of obsession. Neither had Boone. It hadn’t surprised either of us we experienced it together.

While the physical connection had been astounding, the emotional upheaval it’d brought with it…that’d been a total shocker. To both of us. To Boone, because he actually spoke of things he’d kept shoved down deep. To me, because I had no idea how much those things had affected him.

No fucking idea and it cut me to the quick.

I paused in front of the refrigerator and pressed my forehead against the cool metal door, needing a moment to let the truths about his childhood slowly wash over me before my distress swamped me entirely.

The indifference to his existence.

The complete lack of any affection.

My heart ached for him.

Ached.

From the moment I’d met Boone and we’d become friends, I’d wished for more from him. Until last night I hadn’t realized how much of himself he had given me. Just me. He’d let down his guard during the times we’d spent together. He’d gotten to be a cocky, sweet eighteen-year-old-boy, flirting with a girl he liked, talking about everything and nothing. I loved those times with him.

But he treasured them because they were the only ones he’d had.

God.

To think that back then, and all this time, he’d held me up as his ideal? He wanted what no one before me had bothered to give him? I almost told him he was mistaken to put that much value in me. But he felt the way he felt and I’d never discount that. Never.

It seemed everyone in his life had discounted him.

Except me.

The tears I’d held back since last night fell in silence.

When the alarm for the patio door had gone off, I’d experienced fear and a feeling of loss. I’d sent the universe a silent plea. Don’t let this be the end. Don’t let him have regrets. After I mustered the guts to crawl out of the bed that smelled like him—like us—to reset the alarm, that’s when I’d noticed him in the pool.

I’d watched him from the shadows, submerging himself and surfacing as if he’d been practicing drowning. But that had been Boone’s way of reasserting control…and reminding himself to breathe.

So after I’d gained control, warning myself not to fucking cry because it’d send him running, I’d strolled out, alerting him to my presence. Hoping he’d open up to me, even if that meant dealing with his regrets about cramming as much sex as we could into as short a time as possible and his need to walk away or even cool it.

That’s the conversation I’d expected.

Not Boone telling me he didn’t know how to love.

I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop my anguish from spilling out. My anguish and heartbreak and horror and fury that he didn’t know how to love someone because he’d never had love. Or affection. Or any of the normal exasperation and elation that came with loving someone and them loving you back.

So he’d focused on having a purpose. Did he think only then would he be worthy of affection and love?

No, no goddammit, he’d been worthy all along. How strong his will had to be to withstand a life without casual touches, without spontaneous hugs, without that comfort in knowing you were loved.

Right then I resolved to give him that every day. He would know my touch, even just in passing. He would know his value to me in every possible way so he’d never have to wonder again.

I crossed to the sink to wash away the evidence of my tears. I’d never want Boone to think I pitied him—I didn’t, but I knew that’s what he’d think if he saw me bawling. The last thing I wanted was for him to retreat. I wanted him here, where I could be what he needed.

After I made a pot of coffee, I tossed all the ingredients for banana bread into a bowl. While the oven heated, I mixed the batter, greased the pans and shoved them in the oven, all while slurping down my first cup of coffee. When I turned around from putting the dishes by the sink, I noticed Boone leaning against the doorjamb watching me, looking adorable with his hair sticking up and dark scruff on his face. “Hey.”

I didn’t wait for him to come to me. I nearly had a skip in my step as I skirted the center island and circled my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his chest above his heart. “Morning, sleepyhead.”