Page 16 of Unbroken

“I’m surrounded by a bunch of hopeless romantics.”

I saw her roll her eyes out of the corner of my eye, butunbothered, she continued, “Speaking of romance, I saw Hazel is having a release party for her new book next week.”

I didn’t say anything. Instead, all my attention was focused on not flinching at the mention of Hazel’s writing or tensing too much where Piper could feel it in my hand she still held.

“I still have to read her second book, but while I was on the plane…” I tried to prepare myself, but there was no use. “I read her first one.”

Anxiety sliced through me as I hit the brakes in dead-stop traffic. It was a conversation I’d hoped we never had to have. But Hazel’s account of her experiences was too raw and gripping—no one could resist that.

After she’d been kidnapped, Hazel wrote a book about her and Luke. It grew in popularity not long after, and she continued writing books.

I was proud of my friend and her success. Although I’d skimmed the sex scenes—because reading about my friends’ sex lives wasn’t on my to-do list—the rest of it was beautifully written and powerful.

But her book was based on true events. Although it wasn’t known to the public, there were whispers about it all the time online and on her social media. Hazel refused to fuel any of the rumors, but it didn’t keep people from wondering.

Changing people’s names and small details of events only did so much.

“It was really good,” Piper said, and the longer we sat unmoving, the higher my anxiety climbed. It was a foregone conclusion the types of questions she’d ask and the people from the book she’d want to know about.

That thought made my hand itch to reach for my phone again and continue the search I’d randomly started that morning yet quickly dropped when I realized it wasn’t going anywhere. It hadn’t produced any helpful results in the past two years, I don’t know why I thought it might now.

“Devon?” Piper asked, and I quickly glanced at the passengerseat. She was looking at me expectantly, and I must have missed what she’d said.

“Yeah? Sorry.”

Luckily, she wasn’t bothered by my lack of attention. I’d also honed the ability to keep my expressions neutral, no matter what was happening inside my head. “Is it really all true?”

The second the question left her mouth, the person in the car behind me honked, and I pressed the gas. Stuck in memories, I hadn’t noticed that we’d begun moving once again. It couldn’t have happened at a better time.

I needed all the help I could get to divert my attention from Piper’s too-knowing gaze.

“It’s based on true events,” I said in an even voice. “Not all of it is accurate. It’s still technically fiction.”

She nodded. “There’s a lot of talk about it, and at first, I dismissed it, but something Ivy said a few weeks ago stuck with me. I know Hazel had a horrible relationship before Luke, and that tracks with the book. She also said something about Luke’s ex-wife, Valerie, although that’s not her name in the book. I just…the pieces fit together.”

Grinding my teeth together and deciding at the last minute to switch lanes since it was moving a little faster, I could only manage a nod.

Piper turned back to stare out the window.

“Looking at Hazel now, you wouldn’t expect that she’d been kidnapped. Especially by her boyfriend’s ex-wife.”

I didn’t respond. She was right—you would never know now that so much had happened only two years ago. Piper was quiet for a second, and I hoped the conversation was finished. But I wasn’t that lucky.

“What about Brianna? Or I’m guessing that’s not really her name?”

NINE

Devon

Reachingto turn the heat down, I let go of Piper’s hand and turned the dial to the left.

I gripped the wheel in both of my fists and focused on the slight vibration of the car and the rumble of the tires against the asphalt. I judged the distance between my bumper and the car in front of me. I checked my blind spots and glanced at the sign above us stating our exit was still three miles away.

Only then did I nod.

“That’s not her name?” Piper asked for clarification, and I shook my head. “We…umm…we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want?—”

“No,” I said quickly, knowing that not talking about it would likely prompt questions—whether right then or later—aboutwhyI didn’t want to talk about it. “We can talk about it.”

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