Unbreak Me
Maria Vickers
MM romance/ghost story
They were supposed to be together forever. That was the plan, but through a cruel twist of fate the night before their three-year anniversary, Tex Davis lost the one man he would ever love, Memphis King. A year has passed and he still hasn’t been able to move on. Everyone tells him it’s time, but what do they know? Memphis was his partner in love and life. Losing him, broke Tex.
Tex has been given an opportunity to move from New York to Seattle. His friends and family are encouraging him to take it, but he has already decided to decline the offer because that would mean leaving Memphis behind.
Then something happened.
Whether it be fate or something else, Memphis came back to him. Tex’s first love is supposed to help him move on, but not even Memphis can bring himself to force Tex to let him go.
Is it so wrong to want to spend forever with the person you loved most? Both hearts are begging to be unbroken.
1 –
One year. One year since Tex had lost Memphis. One year since his lover had been killed, and it had yet to get easier. Everyone kept telling him it would, it never did. There were times he thought about ending it all, and then he would feel something…hear something, making him change his mind.
Actually, sometimes he thought he was losing it.
And today, he called in sick to work, unable to get out of bed until this afternoon. When he finally emerged, he only relocated to the living room after grabbing a full bottle of Southern Comfort, plopping down on the sofa. The very sofa he and Memphis picked out together. It had been their first major furniture decision when they decided to move in together. The moment the delivery men left, Tex and Memphis broke it in thoroughly, wearing themselves out.
Tex’s eyes looked around the room. It seemed so empty without Memphis, and he felt so lost without his lover. He’d been sitting here for hours? Minutes? It had to be some amount of time since the bottle was half gone and he was feeling a drunken morose engulfing him, and he could not stop the bitter question from leaving his lips, the very question he had been asking daily since losing his best friend, lover, other half…his everything. “Why? Why Memphis? Why did you have to go? Why did it have to be you and not me?”
Shaking his head, Tex sniffled and brought his glass filled with amber liquid to his lips. “When you left, it completely broke my heart…I’m still broken. I need to hear you say that you love me one more time. A million more times, but that won’t happen. Can’t happen.” He took another gulp, draining the glass before wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
Pouring himself another glassful of liquor, he breathed out as drops of saltwater fell on his coffee table. He should probably stop drinking and put himself to bed to finish wallowing there, but he couldn’t. It had been one year. One year since that fateful night…unlucky night more like it. One year since he’d heard Memphis’s voice, touched his body, and the loss Tex felt that night remained just as acute tonight as it did then. He thought time was supposed to heal the wounds, to lessen the pain…lies. All lies. “It’s my fault, Memphis. If I hadn’t been spiteful and allowed that monstrous bitch, jealousy, to cloud my judgment…if only. If only. I regretted everything, regretted that the last words I spoke to you were bitter and vile. I can’t forget you, can’t move on. I’m lonely without you, Memphis. It hurts so much that you aren’t here.” He wailed like a banshee, his cry full of sorrow and pain.
More tears were falling, but he ignored them like he’d done every time they sprang up. It was easy to do after all this time; besides, they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered any longer and hadn’t for a year.
He sobbed again and then got angry. “I wish you could come back to fix me, fix what you destroyed when you left, but that’s a pipe dream. You got mad, said your piece, and then stormed out of here. If you had just waited…” Tex choked on his words.
“You went the other way. Why? Why the other way? Was it because of the bar? The one where we met? Memphis, do you remember? I was sitting at the bar and you walked up to me and gave me that stupid, cheesy pickup line, ‘I seem to have lost my phone number, can I have yours?’ So stupid. I remember I said, ‘That’s a shame because I lost mine too. I guess we’re both screwed.’ You winked at me then. I should have known something bad was going to come out of your mouth…sexy mouth.
‘Not yet, but we could be.’ I laughed. You were always good at making me laugh, making me smile.” Shaking his head and snickering, he poured another glass. If he destroyed his liver, if he got alcohol poisoning, then maybe he could be with Memphis again.
Tex downed the entire glass, hoping that the pain would deaden or that he would stop feeling anything. Maybe if he drank enough, he could join Memphis.
Grabbing a pillow from the couch, Tex threw it across the room, and it bounced off the window overlooking the streets of Manhattan. “You were supposed to go right! You were supposed to go to Christy’s apartment!” He wailed, “Why weren’t you at your sister’s? Why did you have to go the other way? She looked horrible because she had been sick, even her blue hair looked green.” Tex snorted mirthlessly.
It’s been a year and Tex floated through life, unable to move on. “I know I should continue to live for us…for you, but I don’t know how,” Tex’s words ended on a shout, full of rage, and his face was red from more than just the alcohol.
“There has always only been you. You got me when no one else did. You loved me…I loved you. Three years. We were together one night shy of three years. We never got to see four.” Tex fell back and stared up at the blue ceiling with white fluffy clouds painted on it, his tears falling down his face like two rivers. There was no point in wiping them away because there was no end to them, and he couldn’t staunch them even if he tried. Memphis was gone and would forever remain gone.
He chugged the rest of the amber liquid from the bottle and fell to his side onto the couch, resting his head on the cushion. More tears fell. They never stopped. Even if they weren’t falling down his face, his soul cried and mourned the loss of his friend and lover. The pain hadn’t stopped since the day he lost Memphis.
Sitting up, Tex grabbed the bottle of Southern Comfort and raised it into the air, choosing to do away with the glass. “A toast to you and your lost life. Memphis, I still love you, and I wish every single god damned day that you were still here beside me. Each day that passes reminds me that you will never be part of my life again, that you will never hold me, never tease me again. You were funny, caring, sexy, and all mine. Forgive me…God, please forgive me for that night, for accusing you of cheating. I know you loved me. Jealousy is a fucking bitch. Somehow, I’d gotten it into my head that you were leaving me when you weren’t. I found out after. Sometimes I think I killed you. I’m sorry. So, so sorry.” He whimpered as he took in a shaky breath. “Memphis, I will always love you and only you.”
I wish you were here to fix the heart you broke when you died, Memphis, Tex thought to himself as he closed his eyes. Before he fully submitted to the effects of the alcohol though, he felt a set of lips press against his. “Memphis, love…” he slurred, his words tapering off as he finally allowed himself to completely fall into the void.
Fingers running through his short brown curls and the heaviness of someone sitting next to him had Tex leaning into the touch and smiling. “Memphis, I’m trying to sleep,” he argued, pretending not to like the feel of his lover soothing him.
Reality hit a split second later.
Tex’s eyes popped open, but all he saw was the blackness of his blanket because when he slept, he liked to bury himself and only the top of his head could be seen. Pushing it down and away from him, he twisted his head this way and that, trying to figure out why it felt as if someone was playing with his hair when the apartment should have been completely empty save for him. Events from the previous night filtered into his brain, and he shook his head, still scanning the room.
Another thought occurred to him. He was so focused on if it could be Memphis, there was a more logical explanation–thanks to Christy and Wil for planting the idea in his head. Spider! He panicked and grabbed his head, trying to dislodge the bug if it existed, but he found nothing. Instead, much like the night before, he fell off the bed onto the floor, this time hitting his hard head with a loud thud.
“It wasn’t a spider,” Memphis told him, although watching Tex scramble as he did, had been funny as hell. He didn’t know what happened earlier, one minute he had been here in this apartment with Tex, and the next, nothing…blackness. Nothing scary or oppressive, just a void. Some might call it purgatory, but he didn’t think so because if that was the case, why was he allowed to leave and come back to his Tex?
Head snapping up, Tex tried to find the source of the voice, and this time he did, a little easier than last time. With the curtains drawn and the sun beginning to set, the room was dimly lit, and on the bed, on Memphis’sside of the bed, was a…something. Tex wasn’t exactly sure how to describe it. It wasn’t a figure, but it wasn’t exactly nothing either. A mist? No. Smoke? Not really. Shadow? Sort of. It was just there.
“Me-Mem…Memphis?” Tex asked hesitantly. His heart was beating wildly and he was on the verge of hyperventilating as his eyes widened, waiting in anticipation for the answer he would receive. And he didn’t know which way he wanted the…thing to answer. If positive, Tex might be crazy. If negative–in a way–it would be like losing Memphis again. Fuck, he was a wishy-washy asshole!
“Do you remember the night we met? I think I might have told you, but I don’t remember, but the reason I approached you was that I didn’t want Jordan to have you,” Memphis told Tex as if this whole situation was completely normal.
Tex gaped at the bed. The thing sort of had a form, but not really, and while it seemed Memphis voice came from it, it didn’t mean that it was Memphis. “Jordan? What do you mean?” He recalled something about Jordan and that night, but he couldn’t think right now because even if it wasn’t actually Memphis speaking to him, it was his voice. Tex couldn’t stop himself from asking while he tried to decide if he should scream and run for his life to admit himself into the nearest psych ward, or if he should rejoice because his lover had finally come back to him.
“We played pool to decide who would approach you that night. I lost, and when he went to the bathroom to piss out the five beers he drank, I made my move. It was a toss-up if we would remain friends, or if he would punch me in the nuts and never speak to me again.”
“No guy would ever punch another one in the sack.” Tex still wasn’t sure, although, that did sound like something Memphis would say, and definitely something Jordan would threaten if he was pissed off.
Memphis chuckled. “You do remember Jordan, right?”
Amazon:
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FOR THOSE OF YOU WAITING ON JORDAN’S STORY….IT’S COMING!
Unbreak Me will have a side story for Jordan titled Found You.
It is an MM contemporary romance and will appear in With Love From New Orleans Anthology. Available for preorder for 99 cents.
Unbreak Me will have a side story for Jordan titled Found You.
It is an MM contemporary romance and will appear in With Love From New Orleans Anthology. Available for preorder for 99 cents.
Jordan Cash came to New Orleans to have fun with his latest fling, however, within twenty-four hours of arriving, he’s been abandoned and finds himself wandering around the city doing the tourist thing alone. Everyone is finding someone to love, but that’s not in the cards for him. He’ll spend his days cheering on his friends and having the time of his life.
He never expected to run into a man who immediately catches his attention in the middle of a graveyard. Did the Voodoo Queen put a spell on him from the beyond?
***
To say that Archer Wolfe is directionally challenged is the understatement of the year. He broke his cellphone and can get lost in the very city he lives in. It’s no surprise he gets turned around, and while trying to find his way, he pushes Jordan into a stone crypt. Not the best way to make a first impression.
Archer isn’t looking for love or anything else, but there is something about the smooth-talking Jordan. It was supposed to be a fling, simply some fun, but he is realizing he doesn’t want Jordan to disappear.
***
Once you’ve found someone who calls to your soul, how do you let go?
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Maria Vickers currently lives in St. Louis, MO with her pug, Spencer Tracy. She has always had a passion for writing and after she became disabled in 2010, she decided to use writing as her escape. She believes that life is about what you make of it. You have to live it to the fullest no matter the circumstances.
From a young age, she has always loved books and even dreamed of being an author when she was younger. Growing up in the Navy, she used to weave tales for her siblings and her friends about anything and everything. And when she wasn't creating her own stories, she had a book in her hand. They transported her to another world. She hopes that with her books, her readers have the same experience and that they can relate to her characters.
Getting sick changed her life forever, but it also opened doors for her that she thought would always be out of reach.
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About SAMANTHA CHASE
EXCERPT:
“This the one, Ms. Priss?” I turned in a circle, hating how restrictive and stiff the refined suit felt. There would be no staying on the horse for eight seconds in something like this. I doubted I could even bend over and pull my boots on in this getup. I failed to see how being dressed like I was going to high tea with the queen was going to convince normal men with a little extra cash to buy the junk in my hair. It felt like overkill, but I would chew my tongue off before telling Della that. I knew how much this campaign meant to her, and I needed her to keep me around so I could get paid. .. and get to kiss her again.
Della circled around me, eyes scanning from head to toe. A small frown tugged her perfectly arched brows down into a V, and her lush, soft mouth pulled into a pout I was becoming achingly familiar with. She lifted a hand and touched the knot of the silk tie where it rested at the base of my throat. She fingered the delicate material and heaved a sigh.
“You look perfect, but something is still off.” She met my gaze with a scowl. “Can you try and look a little less like you’re being tortured? That might help the overall image.”
Her snippy tone and the upturn of her nose made me grin. I rolled my head around, causing my neck to pop and my shoulders to relax. Della’s expression softened when I was no longer standing at attention, but she still let out a dejected-sounding sigh and reached for my tie, releasing me from the expensive noose.
“You have a body made for designer clothes, but something is lost when you put them on. I feel like we’re trying to wrap the Mona Lisa in silk or something. Frankly, it’s annoying that you make denim and flannel look just as good as Versace and Prada.” Once she had the tie off, she told me to go ahead and get back into my own clothes. I asked her what the plan was for the shoot and a brief flare of panic and doubt lit up her catlike eyes. She forced a smile and told me she would figure it out.
Since I was totally a fish out of water in this scenario, all I could do was follow orders like a good soldier. I stripped out of the fitted vest and worked on the tiny buttons of the shirt. I was handing them both off to the flirty wardrobe girl who was enjoying the impromptu striptease when Della’s “Wait a second!” had both of us freezing on the spot.
She was looking at me in the mirror, eyes roving over my half-dressed form. She wandered over to where my jeans and boots were tossed in a haphazard pile on the floor. After a second of rooting around, she came toward me, my black wifebeater in one hand and my boots in the other.
“Put these on with the pants.” She looked at the wardrobe girl with a lifted brow and had to snap her fingers in the woman’s face to get her attention. “Go find me a pair of suspenders, leather if you have them.” The other woman scurried off to do as she was told and I dropped to the seat to pull on my boots.
“I keep trying to turn you into something better.” I looked up at Della as she snorted out a laugh. “But from the start, you were perfect the way you are.”
About Jay Crownover:
Jay Crownover is the international and multiple New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Marked Men series, the Saints of Denver series, the Point series, the Breaking Point series, the Getaway series, and the Loveless, Texas series. Her books can be found translated in many different languages all around the world. She is a tattooed, crazy haired Colorado native who lives at the base of the Rockies with her awesome dogs. This is where she can frequently be found enjoying a cold beer and Taco Tuesdays. Jay is a self-declared music snob and outspoken book lover who is always looking for her next adventure, between the pages and on the road.
