Series: Broken & Mended Series Book 2
by Erika Ashby
Release: October 25, 2024
Genre/Tropes: Contemporary Romance; Military Romance
Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/205428898-mended-hearts
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/broken-wings-by-erika-ashby
Blurb:
Dustin Adams was once known for his down-to-earth, carefree spirit. He was the well-rounded kid with a promising future—until the girl he loved was yanked from his life.
Now, Dustin is distant and cold. He pushes everyone away and clings to his solitude. Angry and bitter, he is simply a shell of the boy he once was. Living the Army life, the close calls he survives daily only further harden his heart—until she reappears in his life.
Echo Price grew up living a nomad lifestyle until her evangelistic father decided to put roots down in a small Georgia town. She loved singing, pitching, and despite her father’s disapproval, quickly fell for a boy named Dustin. The war between her heart’s desires and the rules her overly protective father enforced came at a price they all paid.
Thirteen years later she comes face to face with the boy who had once stolen her heart. Faced with an emotional dilemma, she must navigate the feelings the encounter rekindles. What some might view as a stroke of fate feels more like a cruel joke to Echo, as Dustin is now headed back to war with Brian—her husband.
But sometimes fate has a way of stringing souls together when it’s least expected, proving it’s never too late for mended hearts.
PreOrder Links:
Amazon Universal: https://mybook.to/Mended_Hearts_EA
Amazon US: https://bit.ly/4ce9HTN
Amazon CA: https://bit.ly/4dwFPCP
Amazon UK: https://bit.ly/4dtrLtR
Amazon AU: https://bit.ly/3WPaDtf
Chapter (Prologue):
Dustin
May 2014
IT’S BEEN A long time since I’ve had a reason to wear anything other than fatigues. I think my brother being honored with an award tonight is just the right reason to do so. Being transferred to a different unit before getting sent back overseas for another tour gives me a very small window of opportunity to make this surprise happen. Soooo small that my mother couldn’t grasp the idea of why I needed her to bring my dress suit here instead of me flying home first and making the five-hour car ride with them.
Because that sounds delightful. The thought alone causes me to shudder.
I’ve been avoiding my hometown like the plague since I left thirteen years ago. I’ve also been avoiding my parents and anyone else who reminds me of that godforsaken town. Including Dax—the one person I regret pushing away. But the truth is, if I could go back in time and redirect my trajectory, I wouldn’t. My distance is safer for the few people I care for. Truth be told, I shut my heart off a long time ago… because it’s safer for me that way. Self-preservation at its finest.
Droplets of water cascade down my body as I stand at the counter, examining my face in the mirror as I contemplate shaving off the scruff. My better judgment gets the best of me, and I decide to keep the light stubble shading my face. No need to pretty myself up just to get dumped in a sandy land far, far away in a few days. A knock on the hotel door causes my body to tense. My feet instantly feel heavy with dread. I groan, walking toward the door. I already regret being here. The idea to sneak out the window crosses my mind, but I remind myself I’m doing this for Dax… and I’m on the third floor. I let out an exasperated breath that borderlines a growl and grab for the handle. The door swings open and I tighten my jaw as my mother barrels in with zero cares for one’s personal space. She tosses my freshly pressed dress suit to the side and misses the bed, stretching her arms wide for a hug.
“My suit.” I narrow my eyes and snap, pivoting away from her embrace. I know she has no regard for the Army and loathes that I joined it, but damn, a little respect would be nice. I walk over to the open closet and drape the hook of the hanger over the top so my suit rests flush with the door. She begins to stammer as if she can’t collect the right words to form her thoughts, and I glance back toward her. My stomach drops with regret, and I’m reminded why I keep my feelings turned to nonexistent. All of a sudden, I’m a teenager again, wanting to console my mother. But I don’t. Thirteen years of residual anger have a way of keeping one callous.
“So many scars,” she whispers, staring at me with a mix of horror and sadness. I grasp where my towel connects around my waist, wishing I had thrown a shirt on. I didn’t sign up for a pity party.
“It’s not that bad, Ma,” I admit, knowing she can’t see the biggest scar of all—the one she had a part in.
She glances up with a hint of a smile. “You haven’t called me Ma in so long.” And just like that, all traces of a smile fade, covered with sadness. Enough of this jog down memory lane. I need to get ready and flip her mood around. I refuse to show up to Dax’s award ceremony with this sour puss in tow.
I close the distance between us and grasp her shoulder, causing her to look up at me. “Remember why we’re here.” I slightly tighten my grip to reassure her and drive my point in simultaneously.
“Dax.”
“Yes, Dax,” I repeat. “Now let me get dressed.” I offer a weak smile before placing a quick kiss on her forehead. I’m not above offering a sacrifice every now and again.
She regains her composure—as if nothing happened—just like she has all my life, and says, “I’ll go wait in the car with your dad.”
I lock the door behind her for safe measure and walk to the closet, then pull the plastic covering my suit. I take in the deep blue jacket and all its adornments that don’t mean squat to me. I don’t do what I do for badges or for show. I quit caring about participation awards after the last one I got my senior year in high school. But damn if I don’t take pride in it or give respect to the other men and women proudly wearing them.
A knock at the door shakes me out of my stupor, and I cautiously walk over and peek out the peephole. Flipping the lock, I open the door halfway.
“Your mother forgot to bring up your shoes.” My dad offers, holding my shoes out. “I even looked up how to shine them for you.” He lets out a chuckle, brushing his hand through his hair, and I take in how weathered he looks.
In what feels like forever, I genuinely smile. “Thanks, Dad,” I say, inspecting my pristine black dress shoes. Impressed is an understatement.
A hand clamps on my bare shoulder and my smile falters as I peek up, barely meeting my dad’s gaze. A gaze that feels so distant with mere inches between us. A lump forms in my throat, and I slowly push it down, trying not to make it visible. I’m responsible for the distance.
“It’s good to see you, son.” My dad nods, holding my view. His fingers curl into my shoulder in the same manner mine had just done to my mom, and I nod back in agreement and understanding.
THE DRIVE STARTS off abnormally quiet. So quiet I wish Dax were riding back here with me like when we were younger. There’s no way the ride would be silent if he were with us. I’m not sure if that word exists in his vocabulary. My mom finally starts talking, my dad nodding, and I stare out my window. Just like old times. I keep my fly on the wall stance and listen. Okay, well, listened. Once she began complaining about my brother’s current situation and seeming to insinuate Lincoln’s widow is holding him back from the life he’s destined to live, I began tuning her out.
After all these years, she still hasn’t changed. News flash, Ma… I have.
Ten minutes later, we pull in, and I thank God. Then take it back, knowing there’s nothing to thank him for. He left me high and dry when I needed him the most. Instead, I thank myself for not losing my shit on my mom during the short car ride here. Stepping out of the car, I breathe out a sigh of relief as if I were holding my breath the entire drive. I’m used to the heat, but right now, I’m feeling overheated. I rub the back of my neck, checking for sweat, relieved when my hand returns dry.
Nerves, it must be nerves. But why? To see my brother? The one I walked out on and never turned back even for a second glance? Yeah, that one. And yes, definitely nerves.
“Shit,” I mumble, rolling my shoulders back, trying to gain my composure—something I typically never lose. I glance over and catch my father’s eyes watching me intently. I see the worry in his brow, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything. It’s a little too late for those kinds of talks. Thirteen years, to be exact. I bend over, double-checking my shoelaces, and grab the penny partially sticking out from under the car. It’s on heads.
We begin walking across the parking lot, and I fall behind, following my parents. I don’t want to lead, nor do I want to present a united front. Through the years, my mom has been good at keeping me informed about Dax, something I’ve always appreciated. Despite what she may believe, I’ve read all the letters she’s sent me. There have even been times I’ve sat down to write a reply, but the words remained tethered, never leaving the tip of my pen.
Five steps up, and we’re walking through the double doors. There are more people here than I was expecting, but I can’t take my eyes off the huge fountain directly in front of us. I walk to it, leaving my parents at the registration table while I examine the foliage-covered stone. A lone quarter in the middle of the water beckons me.
“Why not,” I mutter, reaching in my pocket for the penny I just found, and flip it in.
“Dustin, this is not a wishing well,” my mom chastises as she sidles up next to me.
I shrug. “I beg to differ. There was already a coin in it.” I point.
I can sense her eye rolling. Sometimes I wonder how hers haven’t completely flipped upside down from the number of times I caused that action growing up.
“Come on.” She tugs my arm. “Your brother is down here.”
Again, I fall behind, following. As we approach, Dax’s back is to us, and he’s laughing with others around him. I stop short and use the time to take in my baby brother, who is far from a baby now. Seeing him, in his dress suit, same as mine, ignites a sense of pride within me. I want to run up and tackle him. Hell, run up and give him an old-fashioned bear hug. But he has to be a head taller than me now. I’m the one who’d be shaken around like a rag doll, not him.
I patiently stand and wait. I shove my hand in my pocket and rub the back of my neck. Nerves are still rampant, now accompanied with excitement, and the patience I was trying to channel has dissipated.
Okay, okay, I’ve waited long enough. We all know I’m who he really wants to see but will never be expecting to. That thought has the taste of regret and guilt all over it.
“Ahem.” I clear my throat and take a step closer. Dax’s eyes shift to mine, and I swear I see every emotion pass through them. The same emotions I feel but keep tightly hidden. He shakes his head, shaking the shock away. His pretty boy smile illuminates his face, and I can’t contain the one spreading across mine.
Commence bear hug. Dax’s long legs and quick strides have him hugging me in no time. Out of reflex, my body stiffens. Embracing is foreign to me, but Dax’s embrace tightens, and the reserve I’ve managed to keep up falters. This is my brother. My brother who could’ve died. The thought alone constricts my airways. I swallow hard, pushing the emotion threatening my eyes back down with it. I’m not going to think about the ‘could haves.’
“Man, you’ve sure grown up.” I keep a hand on his shoulder, fully taking him in, seeing what all has changed. His facial features are sharper, more defined. Bright hazel eyes still filled with wonder and dark golden hair, truly embodying the Golden Boy term of endearment. No more towhead. He’s grown and it makes me want to pinch his cheek and ruffle his hair. But I’d have to reach up to do that.
“Take a picture. It lasts longer.” Dax snickers and I laugh at him using one of his key phrases from our childhood. “But on a serious note,” he starts, placing his hands on my shoulders, almost like he’s fusing me to the ground to keep me from taking off again. “You don’t know how much you being here means to me.” He looks away, pausing. “It means more to me than this award.” His bottom lip quivers slightly, and I nod in agreement.
“I’m being reassigned and didn’t plan on making any pit stops,” I admit. “But when Mom got ahold of me and told me about this award…” I look away for a moment, trying to hide the emotion within. “I couldn’t miss it.”
He smiles. “I love you, too.”
“I’m really sorry about Lincoln. I know how close you both were.” I hate that I couldn’t be here for him during that time. He nods, accepting the condolence.
“I have someone I need to introduce you to.” Dax turns around and pulls a woman to his side when he turns back. “This is Lynsie Fox.” And now, the conversation my mother was having with herself on the car ride makes sense.
“It’s nice to meet you, Dustin.” She smiles, sticking her hand out to shake mine.
I quickly glance at my brother for answers but know this isn’t the time or place I’ll get any. I close my hand around hers and give her a genuine smile. “It’s nice to meet you too, Lynsie.”
With Lynsie attached to his side, I catch up with my brother for a moment. I mainly stand and listen to them as I soak this all in. The distraction is something I’ve needed. I’ve denied myself the interactions and communication with those who know me best; those who love me. I like to say I didn’t choose the life of solitude, it chose me, but I’m beginning to second-guess that idea.
People start to make their way into the room where the ceremony is being held, and we slowly meander in that direction.
“Lynsie,” I hear coming our way, causing Dax and Lynsie to swing around. They chat with the new posse member, and I stand, deep in thought. So many thoughts. I look around, giving curt smiles and nods as people walk by, feeling awkward standing here.
“You look gorgeous, girl.” I hear who I presume to be Lynsie’s friend say and something about the voice feels familiar. I pull my gaze back, right in time for Lynsie and Dax to slightly part from one another, revealing who’s on the other side.
I stop in my tracks, and my body instantly tenses. The idea that I’ve died and gone to heaven truly crosses my mind, but I’m snapped back to reality. Dax turns my way, eyeing me. I close my eyes tight and shake my head. I feel like I’m seeing a mirage—something I want to be real but isn’t. I mean, she can’t be. There’s no way, after so long, we’d finally cross paths.
Nope, not a ghost or a figment of my imagination. I run my hand through my hair, resting it at the crook of my neck. It’s ridiculously hot, and the nerves I felt earlier are child’s play compared to the ones flowing through me now. She hasn’t seen me yet, and I contemplate making a run for it. It’s been thirteen years, and I feel as lost as I did when I realized she was gone. How is that possible?
I can see the questions in Dax’s eyes, much like the ones I have for him, but her attention is now on him. I listen and watch intently.
“Look at you, Dax. You sure clean up nice.” She playfully smacks his cheek. Happiness and jealousy envelop me at once. I clinch my fists together, unsure what to do with them or these feelings.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Echo,” Dax replies, glancing back my way, eyeing me.
With a wide smile, she starts to reply, but then her eyes dart past Dax, falling straight on me, and her smile vanishes. My shoulders slightly fall, hating that I caused it. We stare at each other in silence for what feels like forever—a lifetime. I don’t want it to ever end.
“Dustin,” Echo whispers with a hint of disbelief as if she’s now the one seeing a ghost. And I’ve never wanted to equally die and live in the same breath as I do right now.
I unclench my fists, roll my shoulders back, and stare, unable to take my eyes off her. My God, she’s even more beautiful than I remember. And my memory is impeccable. How do you forget every single feature of someone when you dream of them every night of your life? You don’t, and I haven’t. I shove one hand in my pocket and run the other over my face and inwardly curse. I should have shaved. She looks back and forth between Dax and me, piecing it together.
“So y’all are brothers.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question as her voice slightly cracks.
I nod. He nods. We both nod.
“How do you and Dustin know each other?” Lynsie asks, watching Echo carefully. Uncertainty fills her expression like a sucker punch. She looks at the ground and begins fidgeting with her hands. Quirks of hers I’m all too familiar with. I envision closing the distance between us and taking her into my arms to comfort her like I did many times before.
She begins to stammer with indecision.
I clear my throat. “We went to high school together.” Stabbing pain sears my chest, and I make the mistake of looking at Echo. Her beautiful face is trained on me, and for a heartbeat, the same pain I feel consumes her brown eyes. I just belittled what we had—what she was to me.
Dax keeps looking back and forth between us, trying to place her. But with the shitty situation she and I had, he’s not going to be able to. I keep my eyes on her, wishing we could shut everyone around us out. Wishing she could read my thoughts. Wishing I could announce what she meant to me… what she still means to me.
Dax mumbles, “Oh shit.” Like he just had an epiphany.
I take a step forward and open my mouth, needing to expand on my words. She cuts her eyes in my direction, stopping me dead in my tracks. I finally pull my eyes away from her, refocusing my vision to our surroundings. That’s when I watch my new platoon sergeant walk up and put his arm around Echo.
“I see you’ve met my platoon leader,” he states before placing a kiss on her cheek.
She musters a smile, not daring to look away from me. “Seems so.”
My heart drops and my hand twitches at my side, begging to be fisted.
For a second, my belief in the universe and God had reappeared, making a glimmer of hope break through within me. But the reality of the situation quickly snuffs out all hope, making me remember why I quit believing in all the fluffy shit so long ago. All hope does is inflict hurt.
I suppress the maniacal laugh reverberating within my ribs. I know firsthand how cruel the world can be… but boy did it just one-up the hell out of me. In this moment, I know the world has it out for me. I’m hated by the stars that were supposed to align for me and Echo.
Stupid stars, and universes, and constellations. Stupid astrology. It’s all bullshit.
In the Series (Kindle Unlimited):
Broken Wings
Universal: https://mybook.to/Broken_Wings_EA
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Author Bio:
Erika Ashby grew up an Army Brat, spending most of her childhood in Oklahoma, where she finally put roots down. She currently lives in Edmond, OK where she faithfully attends North Church with her kids. She's a blessed mom of 4 who loves Jesus and serving others. Her hobbies include attending dirt track races, concerts, reading, DIY, and making red dirt shirts. It wasn’t until the ripe age of 27 when she realized she had a hidden passion for reading. Up until that point in her life, she claimed to have hated it. Shortly after, she was hit with another revelation: the desire to tell stories. Knowing she had failed all writing assignments in school, she set out on this journey mainly to prove to herself she could do it. So, here she is today, proving it. Erika wants to encourage anyone with a dream to go for it.
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Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Erika-Ashby/author/B00CMZ0LTQ
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6625020.Erika_Ashby
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/erika-ashby
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