Jay Crownover - Salvaged

But I wasn’t someone different.

I was the girl that had almost died trying to make her father happy and win his approval.

I was the girl that let her sister leave without begging her to take me with her when that was all I really wanted.

I was the girl that fell in love with the wrong boy and paid a price so heavy for it that I lost everything.

I was the girl that married a monster, and even though the demon was physically dead and buried, he still lived inside of me, where he haunted me, hounded me, hurt me.

As always, I was afraid, so I didn’t do anything other than shut the car door when he let go and drive away. I really couldn’t fix all the things that were wrong with Wheeler’s life and I wasn’t about to let him close enough to see exactly how broken my own existence was because I’d yet to be able to fix myself.

The puppy whimpered like he knew what I was thinking and disagreed with me. Luckily, he was a lot easier to ignore than the taunting voice in the back of my head that kept up the steady refrain of You should have known better .

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

—Lord Byron

What you’re looking for isn’t between the blonde’s legs, Speedy.”

I shifted my gaze away from the blonde that was very obviously eye-fucking me and turned my attention to the bartender that offered up those unwanted words of wisdom. As always they were spoken with a distinct southern drawl. I lifted an eyebrow at him and was treated to one lifted right back.

“You didn’t find it between the brunette’s legs last week or between the redhead’s the week before that.” He put another drink in front of me even though I’d had more than enough. I watched as he leaned on the bar across from me so that I had no choice but to look up at him as I slid the mixed Southern Comfort and ginger ale closer to me. “The fact of the matter is, no matter how hard you try, you can’t fuck away a broken heart. You aren’t going to find a magical cure for heartache spending an hour inside a pretty girl or one spent at the bottom of a bottle.”

I knew Asa was right but I had no intention of telling him that. Instead I took a healthy swing of the drink and flashed a smile that was fake and forced in the direction of the blonde. When I turned back toward the bartender he was shaking his head at me. I didn’t know Asa Cross very well even though I’d sold him a sweet Nova that needed some work a while back. We shared common friends and his boss at the bar was a silent investor in my garage. Something I tried to keep in mind so that I didn’t make an ass out of myself while trying to drink myself numb.

For reasons known only to the overly observant southerner, he’d taken it upon himself to be my voice of reason every single time I stepped into the bar. Admittedly each time I did so I was looking for dangerous distractions. I didn’t want to go home to an empty house with nothing but regret and dread for company. I appreciated that he didn’t want me to chase after my own ruin, but I’d handled my love life so carefully for so long that I was beyond ready to dirty it up a little. Being thoughtful and considerate got me nothing but being abandoned and betrayed. It was time to see what I got when I was careless and reckless.

“I’ve told you before, I’ve been with the same girl since I was sixteen. Nothing wrong with seeing what else is out there now that the shackles are shaken off.” I wanted to sound more excited about the prospect of sleeping my way through the entirety of eligible women in Denver than I actually was. The reality was that women liked me, they always had, but I’d been saying no for so long that saying yes felt weird. Misplaced guilt took the fun out of being a player. That was something I couldn’t even convince myself I was until the third or fourth drink.

“Anybody that takes a little bit here and a little bit there is going to end up hungry at the end of the day, Speedy. You’re a man that’s used to having a full plate, these snacks aren’t going to do anything for you. You’re going to starve.” Asa nodded and pushed off the bar, leaving his convoluted words hanging heavily in the air. He made his way over to a customer at the other end of the bar top, giving the blonde the opening she’d been waiting for to make her move. I tried not to wince when she slid onto the empty stool next to me. Her perfume was strong and sickeningly floral. It was inescapable as she leaned an arm on the bar top and turned her body toward mine.

She was pretty in a very made-up kind of way. I didn’t particularly have a type. I’d been with Kallie for so long that I’d forgotten what my preferences had been before her. Watching this woman’s very painted lips turn up at the edges and her alarmingly long eyelashes flutter flirtatiously at me, I realized that high maintenance and overly done was not high on the list of things that made my dick hard.

Unwanted, an image of Poppy Cruz holding that adorable puppy and looking at me like she was ready to bolt at any second flashed through my mind. Now, her easy and untouched kind of beauty made my dick hard without question. In fact, I could feel it tighten and twitch against my zipper at nothing more than the thought of her.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and she didn’t have to do a single thing for me, or anyone else to notice it. She didn’t wear makeup, not a stitch of it. Even without it, her lips were a rosy pink and her eyelashes were long and a flawless fan of inky black. They did a great job of keeping her stunning but sad amber gaze hidden from prying eyes. Her skin had an enviable golden hue that could only be achieved through heritage and blessed genetics. Her hair was an unusual mix of browns that ranged from dark chocolate strands to rich caramel-tinted highlights that I doubted came from a salon. The girl didn’t do anything to enhance her stunning looks, which included hiding her slim frame in clothes that were several sizes too big. I’d only ever seen her wearing the most boring, neutral shades that did their best to wash her out and make her look ordinary when she was anything but. She was born to be a hot rod but for reasons that were hard to think about she was living her life like she was meant to be a minivan. Even camouflaged and covered up, the way Poppy Cruz looked totally worked for me in a way this very practiced blonde did not.

“Hi.” The blonde breathed the word out and put the straw sticking out of her drink to her lips in a move that had clearly gotten her what she wanted more times than not.

I took another swig of my drink, turned my head, and inclined my chin in a greeting that was far less seductive than hers. “Hey.”

“You’ve been sitting over here by yourself all night. I thought I would come and see if you wanted some company. It’s never very much fun to drink alone.” She was right. Drinking alone sucked, so did sleeping alone and living alone and doing pretty much everything alone when you were used to having someone by your side.

“I’m Tessa.” She stuck out a hand and I noticed that her fingernails matched the ruby red of her lips. That seemed like a lot of effort to put into catching company for the evening. The most I’d done was put on a clean T-shirt.

I took her fingers in mine and watched as her gaze drifted over the dark spots of grease and oil that seemed to be a permanent part of my skin at this point. It didn’t matter how many times I scrubbed them, parts of the garage were always marking me as a man that got dirty and worked with his hands. She didn’t curl her lip or pull her hand away and wipe it on her very tight jeans. I always considered that a win. “Wheeler.”