Mend These Broken Stars

By Emma Hartley

                                                                  SCRATCHING THE SURFACE
 

Blake Anderson has not set foot in his father's cabin in fifteen years, and now that his dad is dead, Blake must confront the painful past he's tried to forget while getting the place into saleable shape. When Alex Taylar, a local restoration contractor, shows up in her truck looking like a scruffy little cherub, Blake is blown away. While working together to restore the cabin's original beauty, he finds this feisty, independent woman is exactly what he needs. As their attraction draws them closer, they unearth a tapestry of corruption and crime spanning decades, and Blake learns there's more to his mother's death than he knew. Compelled to find the truth, Blake and Alex face danger while they struggle to overcome their pasts and open their hearts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
• Release date: Aug 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781951055110

Emma Hartley

Emma Hartley is an author and artist living in picturesque Portland, Maine. She has been writing and making art since childhood, and has been insatiably curious and industrious her whole life. Emma was a double major in English and Fine Arts and earned her Masters in Art and Design Education. The characters in Emma’s novels are strong, creative, and feisty. When Emma isn’t writing, she’s playing the drums, making art, and exploring every square inch of the Maine coastline. Mend These Broken Stars is her third novel. CONNECT WITH EMMA: website: www.emmahartleyauthor.com blog: www.tumblr.com/blog/emmahartleyauthor Instagram: @emmahartelyauthor FB: /emmahartleyauthor Twitter: @theemmahartley Pinterest: emmahartleyauthor/ LinkedIn:  linkedin.com/in/emma-hartley-author/

Book preview

SCRATCHING THE SURFACE

Blake Anderson has not set foot in his father’s cabin in fifteen years, and now that his dad is dead, Blake must confront the painful past he’s tried to forget while getting the place into saleable shape. When Alex Taylar, a local restoration contractor, shows up in her truck looking like a scruffy little cherub, Blake is blown away. While working together to restore the cabin's original beauty, he finds this feisty, independent woman is exactly what he needs. As their attraction draws them closer, they unearth a tapestry of corruption and crime spanning decades, and Blake learns there’s more to his mother’s death than he knew. Compelled to find the truth, Blake and Alex face danger while they struggle to overcome their pasts and open their hearts.

MEND THESE BROKEN STARS

Emma Hartley

www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

MEND THESE BROKEN STARS

Copyright © 2019 Emma Hartley

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

ISBN 978-1-951055-11-0

E-book formatting by Maureen Cutajar

www.gopublished.com

Copy Editing by Ashley Conner

www.ashtheeditor.biz

For Tony, whose love makes everything better

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing a book is a labor of love. It’s also a deeply emotional experience. An author puts herself into the treacherous riptide of imagined worlds, fully understanding the risk of being sucked under. Because of the steadfast support of family and friends, I always know when to step back from the water and breathe.

Thank you to my kind husband and two sweet children for their continued patience and support as I send my stories spinning off into the universe. My family grounds me. They inspire me. They love me unconditionally. They remind me of everything that is important in this life. For that gift, I am eternally grateful.

Thank you as well to my talented editor. Her clear thinking and skill helped transform this book, polishing its many rough edges. I couldn’t be happier, and that’s saying something.

Lastly, because the topics addressed in this book are so serious, I urge anyone who has experienced domestic abuse or sexual assault to seek the help they deserve. The National Domestic Violence Hotline is 1-800-799-7233. The National Sexual Assault Hotline is 1-800-656-4673.

Be safe, stay strong, and remember—love will win only if we let it.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

About the Author

MEND THESE BROKEN STARS

"Your task is not to seek for love,

but merely to seek and find all

the barriers within yourself

that you have built against it."

– Rumi

"What makes night within us

may leave stars."

– Victor Hugo

CHAPTER 1

Alex drove so fast down the winding gravel driveway that dust billowed up behind her in a thick cloud. Her balding tires skidded on the loose rocks as the driveway took an unexpected turn, eliciting a swoop of excitement in Alex’s stomach. The tape deck on her beater Chevy had been teetering on the edge of oblivion for months and had finally given out, leaving her alone with a useless box of early 90s cassettes from Goodwill and her own racing thoughts.

Earlier, she had received the strangest message on her answering machine—some guy rambling about Lost Lake and a cabin on Bear Road. He’d sounded clueless. It had all the makings of a city boy trying to sell an old camp, but she’d find out for herself soon enough. Unfortunately, her first job of the year had been cancelled on short notice and she was scrambling to get another job. It was tough being the only female restoration contractor in the Western Adirondacks. She’d worked hard to be taken seriously, but it was a constant battle.

As she crested the hill at the end of the driveway, a sparkling lake rose up from the cloud of dust she was barely outpacing. Slowing down, Alex took in the view. The camp was an unqualified disaster—man, did it need serious work—but the view was unparalleled.

She stopped the truck, reached across the seat to grab her tape measure, and looked out the window. A bear of a man, tipping back in a dollhouse-sized chair with his feet on the porch railing, met her gaze. His muscular chest, arms, and back looked like they belonged on a linebacker. He was a flawless specimen of a man, the model Michelangelo wished he’d had. The guy’s hair was sandy blonde and buzz cut, and his eyes were steel blue. His expression held intelligence and curiosity.

Alex was about to smile at him, when the porch railing gave way to his brawn and splintered, violently thrusting the man forward and nearly off the porch. Through sheer force of will, Alex kept herself from laughing aloud. The guy brushed off his pants, looking furious.

She opened the creaking truck door, hopped out, and slammed it shut behind her. This was going to be fun.

What’d you do that for? she called, merrily, her eyes glittering with unconcealed amusement.

Shit, he muttered. Looking back at the shattered porch railing, the guy assessed the damage. This place is completely rotten. He kicked a splintered baluster off the porch and onto the lawn.

Are you kidding? It’s a quintessential Adirondack-style camp. It’s got great bones but it needs a little TLC.

A little TLC? The entire porch needs to be ripped off.

Roof needs replacing, too, from the look of it.

I’m sorry. He squinted, looking baffled. Who are you?

You called and asked me to come over. I’m Alex.

Alex? The man still looked perplexed, until the realization hit him. As in, Alex Taylar Construction?

Yes. Her voice hardened as she glared at him. Not what you expected, I presume.

Looking sheepish, the guy said, Um…

Mr. Anderson, right? Do you want me to look at the place or not?

Sure. Thanks. And call me Blake.

Alex looked around, critically. Well, Blake, you’re right about one thing. The porch definitely needs to come off, but I might be able to save the structure of the porch roof. She poked her steel-toed boot into a punky board.

You might as well get the full effect, Blake said, dismally, leading the way inside.

As Alex followed him through the front doorway, she was confronted with a behemoth fireplace gracing the center of the front room.

Whoa! That is extraordinary. It’s a pristine example of turn-of-the-century stonework. They laid each stone in like puzzle pieces. She caressed one of the stones as she spoke. What a work of art. You’ve got a gem of a place here.

Really. Blake’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Really. Did you inherit or buy?

Looking annoyed, Blake answered tersely, I inherited it. My dad died about a month ago.

Oh, I’m sorry. Alex fixed him with a gaze of remorse for his loss.

Don’t be, he said, harshly.

Alex’s expression hardened again. Do you want me to come back another time?

No. Let’s get this over with.

Matching Blake’s aggressive tone, she snapped, Get this over with? Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Anderson. I will not do a hack job on this place just because you hate your father. It’s not the camp’s fault, whatever else happened.

He narrowed his eyes. Nothing happened. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make assumptions about me or my feelings about my father.

I don’t need to. You clearly hate him, and he probably deserved it.

Trust me. He did.

Fine. Her eyes were blazing now. All I’m saying is I have some specific standards about the work I do. I’m going to reproduce the original intent of the place, not use some pressure-treated four-bys and call it a day. It’s going to take time and money. If that doesn’t work for you, play roulette with the assholes in the phonebook. Good luck.

She turned and strode away as Blake called, Wait, I’m sorry.

Alex didn’t turn around. She knew Blake wouldn’t have much luck booking a contractor this close to summer. He should jump at the chance to hire her.

Blake followed her outside, hopped off the porch where the railing used to be, and faced her on the lawn.

How much will it cost and how long will it take?

Alex regarded this strange man before her. Blake was even bigger up close, broad shouldered, definitely over six-feet tall, and almost too fit. His eyes had a hard edge to them when he was being defensive, but now they’d softened into something sadder than she’d seen in him a mere moment ago. He hated the camp, that much was clear, and he probably had legitimate reasons. What horrors he must have faced here, she couldn’t imagine. Her heart squeezed a bit for the poor son-of-a-bitch.

Regardless, she kept her guard up, facing him authoritatively. Blake had deflated, which she was thankful for, not having been too fond of his blustery defensiveness. But as she stared him down, his plaintive, vulnerable expression tied her stomach in knots. His eyes looked so much bluer outside than they had indoors. They were less the color of steel, as she’d first thought, and more the color of lightening. They were unusually clear and bright, and utterly compelling.

Kicking her toe into the dirt, she looked out at the water to distract herself from this unwarranted train of thought.

Do you actually want me to do the work? she asked.

Yes, Alex. Please.

For the porch and the roof, we’re talking around thirty grand and six weeks of work. Materials are included in that estimate.

How many in your crew?

Only me. I had a guy helping me out last year, but he was more trouble than he was worth. I only take a couple jobs a summer. I have stuff lined up for July and August, but my June job fell through. You can have me now and I’ll be done by the fourth.

You’ll get eaten alive working out here in June. It’s black fly season.

Occupational hazard. Alex turned away from the lake, looked up at the façade, and wistfully said, I’d buy the place from you if I could, as is, and do the work on my own time. I’d live here. It’s a great view. But I only started out a few years ago and haven’t quite built up my bank accounts yet. Turning back to him, she mustered her most businesslike demeanor. Well, what do you say? Do you want me? Immediately she blushed, realizing she should’ve phrased her words differently. I mean, do you want me to do the work or not?

Fine. The shadow of a smile played at his lips.

Half now, half at completion. I take bank checks. I can give you a few days to get the money together, if you need it.

I don’t, he replied, hastily. I brought cash.

Cash? she asked, incredulous.

Yeah. Don’t people use cash anymore?

Um, sure. I guess. Not often, though. Usually to buy gum or something.

This would buy a lot of gum. He headed back into the camp.

Are you going to do the interior work yourself? Alex looked around as she followed him in.

I think so. I want to get done as fast as I can and sell it. I need to get back to my life.

Where is your life?

Chicago. He grabbed his backpack from the living room floor and reached into it.

Alex watched him, quizzically. That’s kind of far from here.

Yeah. Exactly. He pulled a bulging white envelope from the backpack.

What do you do in Chicago?

Do you always ask so many questions?

Are you always such a jerk?

So yes, then. You can’t help it, can you?

Blake gave her a half-smile as he removed a thick stack of bills from the envelope.

I guess not. You can, though, Alex said.

What? he asked, Help being a jerk?

Yeah. Give it a try.

Okay. He laughed. I’ll try, but I’m not promising anything.

As he counted out the money, she asked, So what do you do?

I deal drugs, he replied, with a straight face.

Her horrorstruck expression was enough to cause Blake to smile again.

Kidding. I’m a physical therapist. I work with the Bears.

As in, the Chicago Bears?

Yep, them. It’s pretty good money. And luckily it’s off-season right now, so it was less problematic for me to take time off for this. He waved his hand to indicate the cabin, then handed her a wad of cash.

She reached out hesitantly and looked up at him. This is weird. You know that, right?

Whatever. Take it or leave it. Do you want the job?

Yes. I do. Seriously, though, why cash?

You don’t give up. He looked incredulous. I knew I’d need to gut this shithole, and I didn’t want to deal with a bunch of banks and checks and bullshit. Cash is easier, and I’ve been saving up for ages. I consider this an investment.

Thank you, Alex replied. I try to be careful, you know. There’s a lot of weirdos in the woods.

Oh, I get it, Blake said, in an exaggerated way, his eyebrows arched. Are you going to count it?

I guess I should. Awkwardly, she stood in the decrepit camp, counting the bills.

They were all hundreds, but it still took a while.

Okay. I’ll get you a receipt and start work tomorrow. How much land here is yours?

Four acres straight back to the main road. Why?

Can I cut trees on the property?

Sure. Go nuts.

Can I order a dumpster so we have someplace to put all your rotten shades and the wood from the porch?

Can I fill it with shit from the house, too? Blake asked.

Definitely.

Get it.

Okay. See you tomorrow.

As Alex sped away, she shook her head. What had she gotten herself into? Blake was an unusual man. He was sullen. He turned on a dime. He made gender assumptions. And worst of all, he seemed to be settling for her as a contractor. Still, there was something else, something compelling about him. There was a sense of humor under all that bluster, and between angsty glares and broody frowns, she saw the glimmer of a good man beneath the taciturn façade.

Maybe the job wouldn’t be fun, but it might be interesting.

***

What was he thinking? The diminutive Alex could so easily take that money and he’d never see her again. No receipt, like it never happened. Somehow, though, he trusted she wouldn’t stiff him. Blake found her independent spirit refreshing. It took balls to be a female contractor in the middle of the woods. This was definitely a man’s world, and she was alone in it.

Despite her size and her adorably cropped copper curls, which seemed to have a life force of their own, she was tough. It was her eyes, though, that captivated him, even after she drove away. Their particular shade of forget-me-not blue was painfully familiar. It was the same shade as his mother’s eyes.

As dust from the gravel driveway settled, the sound of Alex’s tires slowly dissipated and Blake absorbed himself in the quiet of the lake. The woods blanketed all sound, muffling it from within. Birds called to each other, but they were so much a part of the place they didn’t register as noise. Alex was gone. Blake was alone, and he needed to stay busy, to move forward, to get away from this place as fast as possible.

Consciously driving Alex’s many charms from his mind, Blake surveyed the cabin. When he’d arrived an hour ago, he’d stepped into the front room, holding his breath. Without looking around, he’d gone to the phone table, dug out the phonebook, and called the numbers for local contractors. There were few choices and Alex had been the only one with voicemail. After he left a message, he sat on the porch and stared at the lake, not ready to face the drudgery awaiting him inside.

The place was a wreck. He had a lot of cleaning ahead of him, so he was looking forward to having the dumpster. Everything would have to go. Absolutely everything. He would pass a clean slate on to the new owners and he would erase every last trace of his father.

Nine days before, Blake had coldly received the call about his bastard father’s death from Aunt Sal, his mother’s sister. Dwight was finally dead. What was there to say? Sal wasn’t sorry, Blake wasn’t sorry, and neither of them feigned remorse for the loss. However, the fact remained that his father was dead and work needed to be done.

Sal had always cared about Blake, reassuring him he’d eventually be free of his psycho father’s tyranny. She had even offered to adopt him after his mother died. In a characteristically cruel rebuff, however, his father had refused to relinquish custody. Instead, Dwight had kept the ten-year-old Blake around, because, Blake assumed, with his mother dead, his father would’ve had no one left to abuse.

Sal had tried so hard to help. Sometimes she’d managed to convince Dwight to let Blake come and stay with her. Seeing the love of a real family close up, only to be tossed into Hades again at the end of the stay, was a torture all its own. Blake grew to dread those trips, with their cruel glimpses of the perfect life he couldn’t have. How could she have known being with her family only made Blake feel worse? Her best efforts hadn’t made a difference in his world at all.

Guilt gnawed at him. He shouldn’t be so hard on her. She had tried her best, after all. Tried and failed.

Thinking of Sal, Blake realized he should let her know he’d arrived. Out of habit, he reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone, but of course there was no reception here. It was a relief, for it meant there were still some remote places left in North America. The Adirondack region was definitely one of them.

Steeling himself, he walked back into the gloomy cabin. On his way to the landline, he paused in the living room and glared at the fireplace Alex had admired so much. To him, however, it was a monument to misery. Fifteen years had passed since he’d left his father’s home, yet here, time had stretched and warped, as though teetering on the event horizon of a black hole. Oppressive memories crept out from every corner to mock him. His racing heart betrayed him,

Reviews for Mend These Broken Stars

[Leena Aluru · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

3.5?
Nitcwhat I'd depicted from this book. The highlight happens to be the acceptance of Alex as the more efficient , courageous and resourceful.person by Blake. There's no unnecessary ego trips, no show of masculine power, no mansplaining - nothing. Simple acceptance - it was so.pleasant.

The plot line deals a lot with abuse, mental, physical and emotional. It talks of abuse of power and obviuos cover ups. Pretty predictable. The constant repetitions regarding how broken the mcs were got really tiresome. The constant vacillating feelings between Alex and Blake was stretched.

Overall, not a bad read. I'll not discourage anyone who wants to pick this up to read. Beware of unpleasant topics covered here.

Recommended :?