Page 7 of Beautifully Broken Control

Jensen laughed. “You’re going to burn your tongue again.”

I grimaced. Patience had never been my virtue. And Ihadburned myself on more than one baked good in this kitchen. “Fine.”

There was a knock on the glass of the front door. Both Jensen and I peeked our heads out of the kitchen. The smile that overtook Jensen’s face was sheer joy. She crossed to the front, unlocking the door and pulling it open. “What are you guys doing here?”

Noah bounded into the shop. “Hi, Mom!” Then he ran for the kitchen. He grinned at me and then eyed the scones. “They ready to eat yet?”

“Hey, bud.” I gave his hair a ruffle. “Give them just another minute or two.”

Tuck pulled Jensen into his arms. “We wanted to see if you would feed us before we headed off for our days.” He gave her a wicked grin. “We’re growing boys, you know.” Jensen let out a soft laugh. “And I needed a little more of this.” His mouth took hers in a slow kiss that should’ve scorched the paint off the walls.

I averted my eyes. I loved that my friend had this, that she’d built a family after enduring so much. Noah had a father figure now, and Jensen had someone who would do anything to make sure the life she lived was the most beautiful one she could imagine.

A flutter of jealousy flitted through my chest, lighting a faint burn along my sternum. I rubbed at the spot. Maybe, one day. One day, I could find that, too. Build my own family.

Since the one I’d been born into would rather I hadn’t been born at all.

2

Cain

My gaze wentunfocused as the coffin lowered into the ground. I thought that the finality of the moment might stir something within me. Sympathy. Sadness. Anything that wasn’t a distant numbness. If I searched hard enough, I knew I’d find the rage. It had turned to a low, simmering fury over the years, but it would never be gone entirely.

“I’m sorry her life was such a hard one.”

I blinked rapidly, the priest coming into focus in front of me, the only person present other than the men lowering the woman who had given birth to me into the ground. My jaw tightened, making a faint clicking sound in my ear. “The harshness was of her own making.”

The priest gave me a sad smile, one that had me resisting the urge to clench my fists. He’d been prying since the moment I’d called to arrange a burial. Wanting to know details of my mother’s life, tidbits he could share at the service. He’d been in for a shock. I was the only one in attendance, and there were no sweet stories to share. The woman had drunk and drugged herself into an early grave, only after she’d ruined the lives of those who wanted nothing more than her love.

I extended a hand. “Thank you for performing the service.”

The priest’s grip, like the rest of his demeanor, was full of sympathy. “If you need to talk, my son, you know where I’ll be. My door is always open.”

“I’m not yourson.” I ripped my hand from his grasp and had a sudden urge to deck the old man. God, I needed to get a grip. The memories were battering at the door to my brain, and I wasn’t sure how long I could hold them off. I gave my head a little shake. “I’m sorry, Father.”

I didn’t wait for an answer, simply turned on my heel and strode towards my car. The skies gave an ominous rumble that was so very fitting. The city spread out before me as I crossed the hillside graveyard. I hadn’t even known she was in Portland. The social worker from the hospital had informed me that she’d been here for years before being admitted months ago for liver failure. She wasn’t a candidate for a transplant.

She’d known she was dying and hadn’t called. I guessed I could be grateful for that small mercy. She didn’t force me to refuse to see a dying woman. Because that’s precisely what I would’ve done.

And while I hadn’t seen her once in this city that I’d claimed as my own, I now saw her everywhere. At the café where I picked up my coffee each morning. On the treadmill down the row from me at the gym. Hell, I’d sworn I saw her walking into a conference room at my office the other day.

I beeped the locks to my Aston Martin and pulled open the door. I slid inside just as the first few drops of rain began to fall. I let my head slump against the headrest, my fingers squeezing the bridge of my nose where I could feel pressure building.

Images flashed in my mind. Dark brown hair gleaming in the sunlight. A laugh carried across the breeze.Cain, come on! Hurry!Kiara let out another giggle.I want to go swimming before it gets dark.I shook my head, trying to clear the image, but it was too late. My chest tightened as my fingers started to go numb.No.I refused to go back there.

My phone buzzed in my suit pocket. The pressure in my chest crept higher but lessened a fraction as I saw the screen. I hit the button to accept. “Walker.” My voice sounded hoarse even to my own ears, and I cleared my throat.

“Hey, Cain. How the hell are you?”

The sound of a friend’s voice, one who was more like a brother, eased something in me just a bit. I stared out at the headstones gone blurry with rain, unsure what the hell to say. I cleared my throat again. “I’m fine.” I flexed and clenched my hands, trying to get some feeling back in my fingers.

“Cain—”

Walker could hear something in my tone, knew that my answer was total bullshit. I hurried on. “How are you? Taylor?”

He paused for just a moment before speaking. “We’re good.” I could hear the smile in Walker’s voice, as though it were utterly impossible for him not to have a cheesy grin plastered on his face when he spoke of his fiancée. “I’m actually calling to see if you can make it to our engagement party.”

“At the ranch?”

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