Page 95 of The Wrong Heart

Shane is an obtainable reality, and Parker is a fantasy.

I watch him storm over to his truck, climb inside, and careen out of the parking lot without a single glance in my direction.

Gathering my wits, I slide into my own vehicle, and when the door is closed tight and my hands are gripping the steering wheel, a single word flashes in my mind…

Breakable.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe Parker’s right, because all I want to do is shatter.

Breaker’sis loud and crowded, bustling with laughter, pool balls clinking, and clattering glasses as bartenders race to keep up with patrons. Leah’s squeal ruptures through the chaos when West sneaks up behind her and hoists her in the air, his arms snaking around her slim waist.

“You ass!” she cries, but her teeth flash white, and a giddy laugh follows.

I smooth my hands over my red maxi dress, a smile lifting, as Shane gets into position beside me with his cue stick. I’m pretty terrible at playing pool, but it’s a great distraction, considering the circumstances. There’s no one-on-one pressure for deep conversation or intimacy.

“Five ball in the corner pocket,” Shane murmurs, leaning down to aim his shot.

We’ve been here for an hour now, and I’ve been nursing my Old Fashioned the whole time. I haven’t been a big drinker since college—the incident with Charlie’s mother was a one-time offense, and a giant stain on my memory. I’ll have a glass of wine every now and then, but I’ve never needed alcohol to have fun.

And then… I just stopped having fun altogether.

Shane succeeds in hitting the five ball in the corner pocket, and West boos, draping his arm around Leah’s shoulders.

“What do you think, Mel?” Shane remarks, studying the table.

Pulling my lips between my teeth, I stiffen. Only Charlie and West call meMel. “Hmm, how about the six?”

“That’s a stripe. We’re solid.”

“Oh, right.” The ice cubes clank against glass as I twirl the drink in my hands. “Nine?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” he says with a wink.

He misses the shot, and West assesses his next play after downing his beer.

As I’m gearing up for my turn, I feel two warm palms clasp my waist from behind, and I freeze. Shane’s cologne wafts around me, something aromatic and crisp. Sage and mint. It’s a pleasant aroma, but it causes my stomach to pitch instead of flutter.

I miss the smell of woods and rainfall.

“You look really sexy tonight,” Shane whispers against my ear, leaning down over my shoulder and giving my waist a squeeze.

I inch my way out of his grip, throwing him a small smile. “Thank you.”

“I mean, you’re always sexy. Even that night at the brewery in your oversized hoodie and messy hair… I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

I remember that night.

It was the night I almost killed myself.

Swallowing, I bob my head. A wave of guilt infiltrates me, knowing I feel nothing for this man, despite the fact that he’s kind, attentive, good-looking, and smart. On paper, he fits. Shane could easily be a compatible partner.

But his eyes aren’t green like the Everglades. His build is too broad, and he smells like a department store instead of the great outdoors. His hands don’t look like they’ve ever really built anything before, his hair is coarse, not soft like silk, and his voice… his voice doesn’t shoot tingles up my spine and goosebumps across my skin.

I’m ruined.

Leah strolls up to me with two shot glasses, an unidentifiable liquid splashing over the rims. I immediately scrunch my nose up. “Absolutely not.”

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