Sweetest Heartbreak (Sweetness Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Sweetest Heartbreak is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Heather Bentley

  Cover design by Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations

  Editing and Interior Design by Jovana Shirley at Unforeseen Editing

  Proofing by Marla Esposito at Proofing with Style

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN-10: 0-9975354-1-5

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9975354-1-9

  To Mom

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Also Available from Heather Bentley

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.

  —SAM KEEN

  Leah

  I firmly believe that every person on this planet deserves a fair chance at a good first impression. No preconceived notions. No letting others’ opinions sway my own. Give them every opportunity to prove themselves, one way or another.

  But, by the way my knees bounce in a poor attempt to settle my frayed nerves, I’m failing myself miserably. Worse yet, my best friend, Eli, doesn’t miss the clues my body gives away. Like right now. I can feel him watching me as I run my clammy palms down my thighs.

  “What are you so nervous about?”

  I turn to find him smiling at me as he tenderly grips my shoulder before returning his hand to the steering wheel. Considering Eli lives only a mile or so away from where we’re headed, this has been a painfully long car ride.

  I trap my fidgeting hands under my thighs and turn to stare out the passenger window. “I’ve never met a drug addict before. How do I act? What if I say the wrong thing?” My racing heart beats stronger with each word.

  A small laugh escapes him. “You’re overthinking this. Besides, Heath is hardly an addict. The only thing he’s addicted to is pissing off his dad. Although I do think for being almost twenty-five years old, he needs to grow out of that shit.”

  “You’re not very convincing.” I sit back with a huff and cross my arms over my chest, shooting him a doubtful side-eye.

  “I’ve known him all my life, Leah. He has his moments, but deep down, he’s a good guy. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  I circle back to the first part. “If he’s not an addict, why did he just spend six months in one of the most expensive treatment centers in the country?”

  “Because his dad didn’t know what to do for him anymore. Heath’s never gotten over his mom, and his dad thought this place might be able to help him finally work through it.” Eli turns the wheel, directing the car down a long and winding paved driveway bordered by trees, effectively hiding what is ahead.

  “Work through it? I thought you said she left them when he was a toddler. What is there to work through anymore?”

  Eli stops the car and turns to me. I mirror his pose.

  “If there’s anything you need to know about Heath, it’s this. He feels things deeper than most people. If something makes him happy, then he’s really happy. But, if someone hurts him, he can’t move past it the same way you or I would. He has a bad habit of holding grudges and ruining anything good that comes his way. And between you and me, I think he’s still holding out hope that, one day, she’ll walk back through those doors.” He lifts his chin, motioning behind me to the double doors that swallow the space just beyond Eli’s car.

  My head tilts back to better take in the sight before me. A deep two-story portico with a large lantern-style chandelier illuminates the beautifully aged, dark wood that encases tall leaded glass doors. More glass surrounds them, inviting you into the foyer of the home and beyond. From there, weathered sandstone highlights full-length windows that stretch out for what seems like a city block in either direction.

  The home looks like it’s been plucked up by a tornado in Vail, Colorado and dropped into an unsuspecting suburb of Dallas, Texas.

  “It’s something, huh?”

  Frozen at the sight before me, I whisper a weak, “Yeah.” It’s so much more than something.

  I’ve driven by many elaborate homes, even been in a few, but other than their size, they were nothing special. This house though, it speaks to me in a way that is equally awe-inspiring and comforting.

  I push open the car door, and my chest warms when my eyes catch a sparkle near my feet. A shiny copper penny. Heads up. I recite the familiar wish in my head before safely tucking it into my pocket.

  Eli appears at my side. “His dad built it for his mom back when he thought they’d be filling it with kids and building a life together. Spent every dime he had on it. Unfortunately, the big family never came to be.”

  “So, you�
�re telling me only two people live in this house?”

  “Actually, three. Louise runs the house and has basically been like a mother to Heath over the years.”

  At that, one of the massive doors slowly opens. Standing in the center is a petite brunette woman who appears to be in her sixties, wearing a navy sheath dress and flats. Under the mouth of the portico, she looks like a pixie coming out from a tree trunk.

  “Eli! Come here and give me a hug. Then you can introduce me to your friend.”

  Eli leads me forward with a hand on my upper back. The second we reach the woman, she wraps him in a tight, familiar embrace, only coming up to Eli’s chest. She lets him go and turns to me. I extend my hand, ready to introduce myself, but she catches me by surprise when she sandwiches my hand in both of hers and gives it a light squeeze.

  “You are just lovely. Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Louise.”

  Between the kindness in her eyes and the genuine smile that brightens her face, my nerves during the car ride are a distant memory. “Hi, Louise. I’m Eli’s friend, Leah.”

  With an arched brow, she glances between Eli and me. “Friends?”

  We turn to each other and laugh lightly. She’s not the first person to question our unusual friendship.

  Eli answers for both of us, “Yes, just friends.”

  Louise peeks back as she leads us into the house. I’m immediately impressed with the sheer size. Although the ceiling is soaring and the space seems to travel on forever, it’s open and comfortable. Made for a family, just like Eli said.

  The ski-lodge look from the outside carries into the interior as well. To the far left is an oversized fireplace encased in rounded river stone that reaches up to a high ceiling covered in wide timber beams. Open to the family room on the opposite end is the kitchen. An impressive island takes center stage among creamy white cabinets and stainless steel appliances while floor-to-ceiling windows line the entire back wall of the home, guiding your attention to the expansive wooded property and flooding the interior with natural light. The subtle peace and warmth to this home draws me in and calms my mind.

  “Leah?” Eli asks.

  I’m so engrossed in my thoughts, I didn’t hear him and Louise talking.

  “Let’s go. Heath is in the field house.”

  “Louise, it was so nice meeting you.”

  “Hope to see you again soon, sweetheart.”

  “I’d like that.” I give a small wave and catch up to Eli.

  We travel down a long hallway and out a side door, following a stone path until we come upon an enormous rectangular building done in the same style as the house. It’s not quite dark yet, but I can see an amber glow that rises from the building’s skylights.

  I stop him and pull back on his arm. “Wait a minute, what is this?”

  “It’s the field house,” he states, as if it were as common as a living room.

  “A field house?”

  “Yes, Lee, a field house. Come on, let’s go.”

  I’m silent the rest of the short walk. When we reach a pair of double doors that mimic those on the house, Eli pulls one open, allowing me to step inside first. I find myself in the center of a large room, surprised when I turn to my right and see a full-sized bar, like you’d find in a thousand restaurants across America.

  It’s constructed of thick, dark wood that runs the length of the substantial space with tall swiveling barstools lining the front. Blue glass pendants hang strategically overhead, highlighting the glass shelving along the back wall. It’s what these shelves hold that catches my attention though. Row after row of every type of alcohol, glowing from the lights from above, and all ready for consumption.

  Isn’t that a little much for someone just out of rehab?

  On the opposite side is a lounge area, complete with not one, not two, but three TVs lined up end-to-end, horizontally. Across from the screens sits an enormous U-shaped sectional and a massive square coffee table.

  “Ready?” Eli strides forward to a set of thick glass doors finished with long brushed nickel handles and flanked by even more glass.

  Beyond them is a full-sized basketball court. He slides a door open, and I’m instantly bombarded with the sounds of what I know well enough from Eli to be “Enter Sandman” by Metallica.

  And there he is, in black basketball shorts and a sweat-drenched gray T-shirt. My best friend’s best friend. Heath Braeburn.

  He moves on the court like a man without a care in the world, his dark hair swinging as he bobs his head to the music between shots. He’s tall and lean but definitely muscular enough that it shows through his fitted shirt. He looks more like a guy trained to run a marathon than someone fresh out of rehab.

  An unfamiliar tingle travels up my spine and my insides flip. My feet are cemented to the floor as I watch him move like he invented the sport.

  He finally notices us and pulls a remote from his pocket, pausing the music and walking our way. He smiles at the sight of Eli. But when he sees me, his mouth flattens as his expressionless eyes hold mine.

  The two meet for a brief hug. With them standing side by side, I can’t help but take in their differences. Where Eli has short sandy hair and chestnut-brown eyes, Heath’s dark waves fall over his forehead, framing cool ocean blues. He carries himself with a confidence that gives his easily six-foot-two frame the illusion of towering over Eli’s five foot eleven. As the two face me, Heath’s mouth lifts in a sneer while Eli’s smile couldn’t be brighter. They are opposites in every way.

  The ball held at his hip, Heath openly inspects me from top to bottom. “So, you’re Leah,” he says, unimpressed.

  My body jolts forward as I begin to ramble nervously, “Heath, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I can’t believe it’s taken this long. Eli talks about you so much, I feel like I know you.”

  He uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. “Can’t say the same.” With that, he turns away from us and runs in for a layup.

  My shoulders deflate the slightest bit at the rejection. When I look to Eli, his only response is a casual shake of his head. Don’t listen to him. Now, I regret not pressing Eli more to meet Heath over the years. But, with Heath bouncing around from college to college before rehab and me completing my internship that rolled right into a full-time job at the advertising agency, we couldn’t seem to make it work anyway. Until now.

  He easily makes one layup and then turns to run in for another as the two of them continue to catch up like I’m not even there. Finally, he rolls the ball off to the side and leads us back out the glass doors. I follow quietly as they carry on.

  When Heath throws his head back, laughing at something Eli said, he catches me watching him, causing his eyes to narrow and my steps to falter. The corner of his mouth rises in triumph before he turns back to Eli. I quicken my pace to keep up with them as they enter the house. When I make it to Eli’s side, I give him a quick poke in the back.

  He turns, his forehead scrunched in confusion.

  I narrow my eyes as we continue to walk. Did you forget I’m here?

  We head up to Heath’s room, which ends up being more of an oversized suite than a bedroom, as it takes up the entire space over the house’s four-car garage.

  Even though it’s one enormous room, the furniture serves as a divider, with a deep sectional breaking it into two. At the opposite end of the expansive space is a simple bed and dresser.

  Heath takes a seat at one end while Eli takes one in the center, patting the spot next to him while smiling up at me. Heath grabs a remote, bringing a giant TV to life, before fishing under the sofa and pulling out a slender wooden box. As he and Eli continue to talk, he casually takes a bag from the box without missing a beat in their conversation. A matte black pipe with a shiny silver bowl is next, and I watch, slack-jawed, as he fills it with contents from the bag. He twists the top back in place and then reaches for the box once more to retrieve a lighter.

  I fail to control the shock on my face as
he takes a long hit from the pipe before holding it out to Eli. Eli shakes his head and continues their conversation. Heath has yet to release his breath when he turns to me and holds out the pipe, his brows raised in challenge.

  “No, thank you,” I answer politely, as if he were offering something as mundane as a piece of gum.

  I went through four years of college. I’ve seen people smoke pot; that’s not my problem. My problem is, the guy just got out of rehab, which his dad probably paid tens of thousands of dollars for.

  I focus on Eli, waiting for him to catch my stare and hopefully get an idea of where this falls on the Richter scale of WTF. I’m thinking we’re at a nine out of ten, but that’s just me. Eli finally looks my way, but his expression is the same as it was before the box came out. He’s smiling, at ease.

  Heath turns his head from me just enough so that, when he exhales, I still manage to get hit with a cloud of smoke. Nonchalantly as I can, I lean away and hold my breath.

  “Sorry about that,” Heath mutters with a grin, effectively turning his apology into anything but.

  I don’t respond, just continue to hold my breath until I can’t take it anymore.

  “Where’s your dad?” Eli asks.

  I know he’s happy to see his friend after all this time, but his obliviousness to my internal freak-out is starting to piss me off. He’s definitely getting an earful from me on the ride home. I focus on keeping my hands in my lap, so I don’t accidentally pinch him in the side.

  “Work, I guess. Where else does he ever go?” Heath replies before taking another hit.

  Just then, Eli gets a call. “Shit. Speaking of work, I’ll be right back. You good?” He looks down to me as he stands. I nod the same time he answers the call and walks out of the room, leaving Heath and me alone.

  Eli has been a statistician for the Dallas Cowboys since we graduated. He loves numbers almost as much as he loves sports, so he found a way to put the two together. The only downside is that the coaches and management work all year long, and if they ask for data, then, as the new guy, it’s Eli’s job to get them the information they want when they want it. Weekends be damned.

  Hopefully, he won’t have to go into the office. And, if he does, he’s taking me with him. No way am I staying here with Heath.