Fractured Hearts (Shattered Lives, Book Three) by Rissa Blakeley Page A

girl cry alone once in a while? I just want to be alone with my misery,” she sighed.
    “Misery likes company.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “You shouldn’t be out here alone, Elaina. You know better than that.”
    “Okay, Dad . What’s the worst that could happen?”
    He sat on the swing next to her. “Oh, I don’t know. You could get eaten?”
    “I really don’t give two shits at the moment.” Dragging the toes of her shoes in the dry dirt as she swayed back and forth on the swing made clouds of dust billow around their feet.
    “I’m pretty sure some of us would give two shits,” Gunther reasoned, but she laughed.
    “That’s pretty fucking funny coming from someone who’s half-dead.”
    He smiled. “Yeah, I suppose it is comical.”
    Then Elaina confessed, “I feel some jealousy toward Quinn, you know. She’s with the same type of fucked up, half-dead man I have, but mine is too busy puking his brains out trying to detox from his alcoholism. Have I mentioned the OCD?”
    “He really loves you, you know.”
    “How do you know that? Your fists know him better than your mind does.”
    “I can see the way he looks at you. He’s got it bad. And I know you love him. It’s so obvious, Elaina. When I helped him back into bed after another round of dry heaves, he was sobbing, worrying over whether you were going to leave him.” Guilt was in her eyes. “You can’t give up on him. This is just a bump in the road.”
    She laughed again. “Bump in the road…,” Elaina mumbled. “Try Mount Everest.”
    “Okay. A giant fucking mountain that’s spewing hot lava and ash clouds for hundreds of miles is in the way of your relationship right now. It’s not easy to have a relationship in this mental world. You just have to have patience.”
    “Patience? I’ve had plenty of patience for his bullshit,” she snipped.
    Holding up his fingers, nearly squeezing them together, he said, “From my point of view, you have been slightly impatient.”
    Her eye roll was hearty. “That’s really righteous coming from you.” She paused. “In case you haven’t figured it out, sarcasm is my thing.”
    With a shrug of his shoulders, he said, “I have been known to throw out a doozy here and there.”
    “Aren’t you just so fucking special?”
    Certain that her eyes were in a permanent roll, he added, “I would like to think I am, but there are others with similar qualities here. So, obviously, special isn’t a quality that I, alone, hold.” His eyes danced with amusement.
    “Okay. Fine. You win the sarcasm contest.”
    “I can share. Recently, I’ve learned how to do that.”
    “No…really. I’m fine.”
    “I have a crazy idea.”
    “What?” She looked at him curiously.
    “Let’s get pissed-up.”
    Her jaw almost hit the ground. “Are you shitting me? How hypocritical would I look?”
    “Here’s the difference–”
    “There is no difference! What’s wrong with you?!”
    “We don’t have enough time for me to list everything.”
    “You’re such an asshole.”
    “Real nice, Elaina. I’m trying to help you out here, and you keep shutting me down.” Gunther stood and ambled off to his truck, grabbed a bottle of vodka, and headed back to the swing. Sitting back down, he held out the bottle.
    “I can’t believe you’re going ahead with this.”
    “The only vice I have is sex. I’m not an addict, but it’s my thing. I can go without it, though.”
    “Yeah, right. What’s the longest you have ever gone without?”
    “Seventeen years.”
    “Wow. I find that shocking…for real. No sarcasm there. Seventeen years is a hell of a long time, even for the casual.”
    “Well, once I started, I haven’t wanted to stop.”
    She slapped his arm. “Oh, my god.”
    Gunther laughed and unscrewed the cap. He offered the bottle to her first because he was a gentleman. Instead of taking it from his hand, she glared at him. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Tipping it back, he took a long