1. Luciana

1

LUCIANA

This has never been part of the plan. I left Whiskey Run seventeen years ago to go to college and to get as far away as I could from the heartache I suffered here. After everything, I told myself that I would never move back. I came to visit my parents—well, Mom, now that Dad has passed away—but I always laid low while in town. Now here I am, my car packed to the rim, and I have no option but to return to my hometown because I have nowhere else to go. I’m returning to the place where my heart was shattered, and it hasn’t been the same since.

I pass the huge sign that says Welcome to Whiskey Run and take a big breath. I can do this. All I need is some time and space to figure this out, and then I’ll leave this town again. All I have to do is avoid one person—one man that pushed me away like I was just some notch on his belt. The one man that took my virginity and then treated me like trash when things got rough.

I’m looking out the window at the new buildings next to the highway when my car starts to sputter. I barely get it pulled to the shoulder of the road before it dies. I grip the steering wheel, eyes wide as I shake my head. This can’t be happening.

I bang my hand on the dashboard. Why am I surprised? After everything that happened the last three days, I should have expected something like this. This just fits in with my latest bout of bad luck.

I turn the key off and then try to start it again. Nothing.

I try it again, and it does the same thing. With both hands on the steering wheel, I grip it and scream as loudly and as long as my breath will let me. I stop and realize that none of my antics have made me feel better or made any changes to my current situation. I’m still broken down on the side of the road.

I flip down the visor and look at myself in the mirror. I grimace as I look back at my haggard self. It’s been a rough few days. It’s evident in the dark circles under my eyes, the look of hopelessness, the downturned lips, and probably most noticeable of all, the huge bruise surrounding one eye.

Just staring at it, it’s like I can feel the pain from when Ray hit me. I clench my eyes shut and shake my head as if I can just force all the bad memories away. I try to control my breaths, and when I can feel myself calming down, I peel my eyes open. But as soon as I look at myself, the anxiety raises again.

I flip the visor up. You’re strong, Luciana. You left, and you’re going to turn your life around.

My little pep talk doesn’t help, though, because I’m still stuck on the side of the road, no closer to a solution. Well, sitting here is not going to do anything. I grab my purse from the passenger seat and dig until I find my phone. I push the button on the side, and nothing happens. The screen is black, and I try not to lose my shit again. Of course the phone is dead.

I drop it back into my purse and then shove my door open. It’s not like I know what I’m doing, but I can at least open the hood and see if I can figure something out. I look in the direction of downtown Whiskey Run. If nothing else, I could probably walk home in less than an hour. I try to lift the hood, but when that fails, I go back to the car to find the lever to release it. After flipping it, I go back and open the hood. I don’t know what I thought I would find, but everything looks as it should.

There’s no smoke, no sounds, nothing. I reach for the battery and pull gently on the wires coming out of it, but they’re not loose. Of course they’re not; that would be too easy.

If my phone was charged, I could try and troubleshoot this, or if nothing else, call my mom to come get me. I walk around to the side of my car and lean against it. My choices are limited. I can wait for someone to stop and help, but I’m not in the right frame of mind to deal with people right now. I wouldn’t be able to avoid questions, and with one look at the bruise on my face, there would be questions. So that leaves walking. It’s not something I want to do, but it seems to be the best choice.

With a huff, I walk around to the backseat of my car. I grab my tennis shoes and change into them. I’m throwing a few things into my backpack when I see a car in the distance.

A part of me wants to hide now that I’ve resolved to walk. I lean down, hoping to not be seen, but just as soon as the thought hits me, I realize that the hood is still up, and whoever it is is going to stop. I’m in Tennessee, and that’s what people do.

I mentally try to prepare myself as I pull my hair down and try to cover the bruise even though I know it’s useless. There’s nothing, not even full coverage makeup, that is going to hide the black and blue mark around my eye.

A tow truck stops behind my car, and I have to shade my eyes to try and see who’s in the driver’s seat. Whiskey Run has grown a lot since I lived here, so the chances that I know the driver is fifty-fifty. No matter how hard I try, I can’t make out who it is. I’m on edge because they’re not opening the door, and I get an uneasy feeling. Please, God no .

The hairs on my arm stand up, and there is a pressure on my chest as my heart starts to pound erratically. It feels like hours go by, but I know it’s mere seconds. The door opens, and as soon as I see the driver step out, I know it’s him. There’s no way I could ever forget the man I gave my virginity to. Heck, I gave my heart to him. I drop my bag back into my car and fist my hands at my sides. There’s no way I’m prepared to see Dominic Evans. Heck, nothing could prepare me for seeing him again, but he’s walking toward me with a grim look on his face.

He’s not the man I remember. He was a twenty-year-old the last time I saw him, and even though he was a big man then, his shoulders are broader, his chest is bigger, and his brown hair is longer. It doesn’t matter how different he may look, my body still reacts the same way it did back then. Why am I suddenly hot all over? And hell, even my nipples pucker at the sight of him. What the hell is wrong with me? My body is a fucking traitor. My scowl deepens.

He’s stalking toward me, and there’s a part of me that wants to turn and run as fast as I can. I’m not ready for this. But there’s another part of me that is still drawn to him and wants to race toward him and let him wrap me up in his big, capable arms.

But I do neither. I stay frozen in place, mouth hanging open, and stare at Dominic as he walks toward me. There’s anger on his face, and it’s hard to ignore. I’ve never seen him look the way he does right now, but I’m speechless as every emotion wells inside me.

He stops in front of me, and his eyes search my face. I wish I had my sunglasses on so I could hide my reaction to him being this close, but all I can do is stare back at him with wide eyes.

His jaw is pulled tight, his nostrils are flared, and his whole body is tense.

I jut my chin at him. He’s the one that pushed me away and said he never wanted to see me again. It’s not like I’m the one that broke his heart. No, he demolished mine. I give a brief nod and with more confidence than I feel, I nod. “Dominic.”

He reaches up and puts his hand on my chin, lifting my head back so he can see me better. “Who the fuck hit you, Luciana?”

I pull back, and the spot on my chin where he touched me feels like it’s scorched. It’s always been like that any time he’s touched me. I take a step back because I need the space. I put my hands on my hips and glare at him, trying to act like my body is not reacting to his touch. “You have to be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He hovers over me. “I’m not. Who touched you, Lucy? Give me a name.”

“Fuck you.”

He crosses his arms over his barrel of a chest. “You already did that. Now tell me his name. You either tell me or I’m going to find out on my own. Either way, he’s a dead man. ”

My mouth drops because this is definitely the Dominic Evans I remember. He’s always been protective, but I thought the days where he’d want to protect me were long gone. He sure wasn’t worried about hurting me when he said he was done with me.