Page 3 of Broken Hearts

Cole steps in my way, his gaze cutting through me. “Julliard,” he growls, frustration in his voice that he has no right to possess. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. “Is that supposed to mean something?” I ask, my voice a steady challenge though my grip on Poppy tightens—a silent plea for support. “Some kind of hazing code?” The clenching of my hand betrays my anxiety, a tell I despise, especially under his scrutiny.

I break eye contact; it feels like he can see right through my soul, allowing him to marvel at all the hurt and destruction he caused.

Just as I’m about to ask him to leave, my voice threatening to betray my composure, Poppy jumps in. “It’s probably some jock slang we can’t understand. Whatever the interest is, we’re passing. Please go look for other… fresh meat.”

Gratefully, I nod, my appreciation unspoken but profound. As we walk away, I can feel his eyes on my back, but I focus on the door. Silverbrook will be my rebirth, not my downfall. Cole Westbrook may be part of this world, but he won’t define my experience here. Not again. Not today. Not ever.

Chapter 2

Cole

Parked outside of Eva’s apartment building, I wait. It feels like hours, and I don’t miss some of the curious looks I get there, sitting in my car, but I don’t care.

My phone rings, and I’m so lost in my anticipation of seeing her I answer before I look at who’s calling.

“Oh, finally, I knew the photos I sent you last night would get a reaction.”

Jenny’s high-pitched voice fills the car, making me wince.

The photos… Nudes that didn’t even make my cock stir and were deleted as fast as they came so I could concentrate on my plan.

“Haven’t looked at the photos,” I reply with a sigh, my impatience barely concealed. “Why are you calling, Jenny?”

“Thought maybe I could come down and we can have some fun.” Her suggestion comes through as hopeful.

“Having fun with you isn’t in the cards. Nothing’s changed. I’m still not interested.”

“But—” I cut the call as I see Eva’s Chevy come down the road to the parking lot of her building.

A smirk forms involuntarily as she struggles with her car door. It’s the same old red clunker she’s had since high school, as stubborn and defiant as she is. It kind of pisses me off—she drove that death trap over two hundred miles to get here. But I’ve got to admit, it’s so… her.

Having her here, at Silverbrook, feels like fate’s got my back for once. The obsession is back with a vengeance. She vanished on prom night, right after my vindictive, petty stunt—bailing on her in front of the hotel’s door. It was a revenge move, one I’ve come to bitterly regret. I thought we were even, but she was gone. I searched for her, following a trail to New York, only to find her absence at Julliard as mysterious and infuriating as the night she vanished. Even my summer visits to Coach Sinclair’s house were unfruitful; he carefully avoided mentioning his daughter, and my attempts to casually inquire about her were met with nothing but evasive responses.

Was it really all about prom? Is she actually pretending she’s not to blame at all in this? She betrayed me first! She destroyed us first! She broke my heart first!

The memory is vivid: a couple of weeks before prom, Jenny, an unwelcome presence, approached me after practice. We had split months ago, and I was mentally preparing to make my relationship with Eva public. Jenny’s presence threatened to derail everything.

“Beat it,” I told her coldly.

“You could’ve told me about your learning difficulties, babe. I’m not with you for your brain,” she said, her grin sardonic.

I stood frozen, shocked. How did she know? Jenny’s hands traced over my muscles as she continued, “You’re hot, sexy … and you have a huge cock, that’s enough for me.”

Breaking free from her grip, I confronted her, “What are you talking about?”

“Your dyscalculia,” she nonchalantly replied. “The chubby girl told me. I don’t care, though.”

The realization struck like a lightning bolt. Eva, the only person I had confided in about my dyscalculia, had betrayed me to Jenny. The pain quickly turned into rage, demanding revenge. I decided on public humiliation at prom—an eye for an eye.

It was meant to be a moment to even the score, something we could discuss and resolve later. I had prepared what to say for when she returned to school the following Monday. This backfired when she fled, leaving me with nothing but questions. My acceptance letters to various prestigious colleges were irrelevant pieces of paper just for show. With my name, I could go to any university I wanted. I had colleges waiting on my decision as I tried to track down Eva, wanting to be near her to settle our unfinished business. But under pressure from my father, I chose Silverbrook.

Leaning back in my seat, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. I’ve replayed our last encounter a hundred times, but here she is, acting as if she’s erased everything, turning me into a ghost of her past. I call bullshit. I know I’m still there, lurking in her thoughts, just as she’s never left mine.

The door to her car finally gives way, and she stumbles out, books in hand. She’s dressed like an austere librarian, but I know better. There’s a wild streak under that composed surface, and it’s waiting to be reignited. I’ve always admired the way she carries herself, a defiance in her walk, an unapologetic assertion of space. My woman wears her generous curves like armor, like a challenge to anyone who dares to question her worth. And damn, the view is something else.

I trace a finger across my lips as I watch her now, appreciating the way her dress hugs her form. The sight stirs my desire for her with a passion that no other woman wakes. She’s oblivious to my scrutiny, and it annoys me.

Sliding out of the car, my body instinctively braces for the impact of her gaze. As she looks up, her bag halting midair, I lean casually against my Lexus, smirking. She might pretend indifference, but the slight rise of her chin, the way her eyes darken—it’s all the confirmation I need. My girl’s still in this, whether she admits it or not.

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