Where The Pieces Fall : Lost Hearts (Lost Hearts Series Book 1) Read online

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  Yours: Losing My Innocence 1

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  Where the Pieces Fall

  Lost Hearts 1

  Blue Saffire

  Perceptive Illusions Publishing, Inc.

  Bay Shore, New York

  Copyright © 2017 by Blue Saffire.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Blue Saffire/Perceptive Illusions Publishing, Inc.

  PO BOX 5253

  Bay Shore, New York 11706

  wwwBlueSaffire.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Ordering Information:

  Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the “Special Sales Department” at the address above.

  Where the Piece Fall: Lost Hearts Book 1/ Blue Saffire. -- 1st ed.

  Why hide who you are? We’re all special in our own way. Never let the words of others define you. When you hide your light, it still comes through. After all, secrets have a way of coming out in the wash. You’ll never be able to keep secret that you’re just amazing.

  ―Blue Saffire

  Preface

  Broken

  Caleb

  I look around the room at everyone. I want to run for the door. This is all so overwhelming, but there’s one thing gluing my ass to this seat. My family.

  I’ll put up with anything for the one woman that saw me. Or at least, I once thought I would. Now, I don’t know if I can. That’s why I’m here.

  My gaze sweeps the faces in the room from under my lashes, once again. This is probably going to be harder for me than any of the others in this room. I’ve listened to the other two before me. I’ve watched them figure shit out right before my eyes.

  It won’t be that easy for me, not at all. It doesn’t matter that I’ve made my way to the professional baseball league, or that I have a gorgeous, sexy as hell wife, that I love the fuck out of.

  I’m a failure. My life is imploding right before me, and I can’t stop it. This is my last resort. My cousin Dakota said it was now or never, this is my only option, so I’m here.

  “This is good. I think we’re making amazing progress in this group. So, who’s going to be our Braveheart, today?” Dr. Winsor’s brown eyes land on me. As if she knows I’m going to be the next one to speak up.

  I feel the new guy next to me tenses. I shift my gaze to the Native American looking guy in the seat beside me. If I let him go now, if I allow him to jump ahead of me, I may never come back. I’ve already waited long enough. I need to fix my life; it can’t wait any longer.

  “I’ll go,” I murmur. My voice rumbling through the room. I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

  I wrinkle my brows trying to get my brain to form the right words. Pressing my lips, I start to squint. Some habits never die. I pull on the focus I’ve learned to control, through playing baseball. No one is going to do this for me. I can’t rely on anyone to do this for me. Sucks, but I have to push through.

  I start. “My name is Caleb, Caleb Perry. I’m thirty-one. I was born and raised here in Texas,” I pause and clear my throat. “I’ve always been different. Not that it’s a big deal to me, but to others around me, it has been the bane of their existence.”

  “It took me a long time to understand what made me so different and an even longer time to feel okay about being different,” I admit.

  My southern drawl is heavy on a good day. Right now, I don’t want to do this, so it’s extra thick. The pain in my voice is evident, even to my own ears.

  I feel myself getting lost in my thoughts, as I continue to talk. I muse on how different I’ve always felt. Until one day, one day, I just didn’t anymore. I guess that’s why I fell in love with her.

  She was different too. She was shy and content with hiding in the background and away from everyone else. It was one of the first things I noticed about her. She was hiding in plain sight.

  I notice things. I have to, and at the same time I can’t help it. I have to process everything to get the little things. It’s what made me see she was special.

  I saw that she would understand what I needed. What I wanted so much. “Normal” people take a lot for granted, but they don’t understand how hard something as simple as love can be for me. Love isn’t concrete. It’s not something you can measure, or explain. It’s not something that can be mocked or mimicked.

  I don’t do well with things I can’t mimic. I need a reference, a learning point, if you will. I need the controlled model of the desired outcome.

  Mama says I’m just extra special, and to do great things, I can’t be like everyone else. Mama also likes to ignore how different I really am, when it’s convenient and point it out when it’s not. I have been different for as long as I can remember, but that has never stopped me. My family wouldn’t let it.

  Most people look pass the fact that I’m so different because of the way I look. I guess you would say that I�
��m handsome. But Mama, she says I’m gorgeous. With my blue-grey eyes and sandy blonde hair, I’ve stood out most my life, but as soon as I reached six foot seven, I stood out like an apple in a pumpkin patch. People are either in awe of my good looks and massive size, or they are wary enough to walk the other way.

  It’s funny to think of a guy as huge as me trying to hide, but I do it every day. Always surrounded by others, but hiding just the same. They all see what I learned to show them, but she saw right through it all and noticed me.

  It’s the real me that no one else sees or understands, no one, but her. She’s the one thing I treasure in my life. She’s the one person I’ve ever wanted to change for. Yet, she’s loved me for me from the beginning.

  Yes, she loves me. We have our own love. It’s complicated, different, and at times a lot to swallow. Not many can understand the world through my eyes, but she has been the first to try.

  I mean truly try, without asking me to hide or to change. Nicole is the glue to my puzzle pieces, but I’ve been shitting all over the glue and the puzzle, it’s holding together.

  Nicole’s leaving me. I did this, it’s not her fault. Let her tell it, she still loves me. I can see it in her eyes, she does, but she’s starting to think I don’t have room in my head to handle our love. That’s not it.

  “No, I love my wife,” I choke out to the group. “I’m just scared as fuck. Shit got real for me, and I’m not handling it well. I let others make decisions for me and now, I’ve pushed my heart, my breath, my life, away.”

  “Okay, Caleb,” Dr. Winsor says. “So now, tell us how you think you got here?”

  Chapter One

  Lost

  Nicole

  Ten years ago…

  What was I thinking? I should’ve arrived a day early like my mother and father suggested. Dad would be laughing at me and poking fun right now. If he could only see me trying to find my way around this campus. Mom would just shake her head at us both and ask for directions.

  That’s not me. I will drown before I ask for help from one of these strangers. Seriously, I live in my shell.

  It took a lot of convincing for me to transfer here in the first place. Sure, my last school wasn’t the best experience and I was unhappy, but I figured I could make it through two more years.

  My dad, on the other hand, believes I tried things the way my mother and grandfather wanted me to. In Daddy’s words, ‘Now, you deserve to see if a change would bring you happiness.’

  You see my mother and grandfather wanted me to attend an all-black college. Go figure. See, my dad is white, born and raised in Washington State. His mother and father, my grandparents, are both Scandinavian. At first glance, my mother looks like a good old Georgia peach, with her cocoa brown skin, bright brown eyes, full lips and plentiful curves.

  Look closer at the family tree and you will find that my granddad, mom’s dad, is African American. Despite all granddad’s pro black talk, lectures on supporting black owned, being enriched in the culture, and going to a black owned college, his wife, my grandmother, mom’s mom, is Asian American.

  I say all this to say that I have never fit into the neat box my mother and grandfather want to put me in. I never fit into the whole black college scene with my light brown, almost hazel eyes, pin straight, brown bob, and bronzed chocolate complexion. Nope, I get stares and someone is always asking what am I? Like I’m not human.

  Forget that I am painfully shy. Let’s focus on the fact that I have always been treated by the black kids, like I’ve been tainted by aliens and white kids could only see my color and sent me packing to “be with my own kind.”

  This has been the story of my life, so I’ve learned to hide in the background and be there, but not be. It’s just it’s been a lot harder in college, believe it or not. I think in my early adult life, I have been made more aware of how different I am. Everyone treats me like some spoiled rich brat, with a white daddy that would insure I never wanted for anything in the world.

  Sure, my mother and father have made a great life for themselves. Also, both sets of my grandparents are well off, but I still work hard for my grades. I want to make my own place in the world.

  That’s the way I was raised. My family has never denied me anything, but I have always had the truth of, hard work and smart work, drilled into me. I work for what’s mine.

  I think what became the final straw for me in my last school, was the fact that it wasn’t just the students that had a bias against me. A few professors had made my life hell. Unfortunately, in order to finish out my literature and art programs, I’d have to deal with the same professors more than I would’ve liked.

  So, here I am, on a new campus for the first time, a week into the semester. I peek down at my schedule and map again, that I have in a death grip. I frown at the traitor map and press my lips, as my feet carry me forward. Suddenly, I crash into what feels like a solid wall, but walls don’t have arms, right?

  Ignoring my bag, books, and map that have fallen to the floor. I look up into intense blue eyes, fanned by thick blonde lashes. The thick trunks that rescued me from falling backwards abruptly release me. Standing in front of me is the biggest white boy I’ve ever seen. I mean he is huge. My eyes widen as I let them take in over six feet of tanned grizzly.

  Wow, is he gorgeous. I’m not usually impressed with blondes or with blue eyes, but his are unique and not in the least the highlight of his beauty. Those full lips count for a whole lot.

  I can’t help noticing the fullness of the soft looking pillows, as his beard calls all types of naughty attention to them. The beard is another feature I wouldn’t think would be attractive to me on anyone else. Slightly darker than his thick blonde locks, the scruff on his face is full, but not overgrown or hanging off his face.

  I hear myself gasps, when I watch his muscles flex under his tight black t-shirt. I lick my lips and look back up at his face, which I have to crane my neck to look up at. His lips are pressed and he’s squinting down at me. It’s an adorable face and makes me blush and look away to where my book have fallen.

  “S-sorry, ma’am,” he murmurs and bends to retrieve my books.

  I bend to stuff my things that have fallen out of my bag back inside. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me because I shiver as his rumbling voice rolls through me. I chance a peek at him again, before I answer.

  This time he seems to be trying to look anywhere but at me. It’s as if he is looking for someone to come and rescue him. I laugh internally. Like this big dude would need someone to save him from little old me. I have to be more than a foot shorter than him.

  “I think it was my fault. I’m the one that should be apologizing,” I say with a small smile.

  He shakes his head. “Practice ran over. I’m late for class. Dakota is going to have my ass,” he replies with a heavy southern drawl, still looking around. His eyes snap to me as if an afterthought. “S-sorry, excuse my language ma’am.”

  By now, he is handing me my books as we both stand. I accepted my books. Tilting my head back to look him in the face and thank him. “Nicole, my name is Nicole, thank you.”

  He reaches for the back of his neck, still looking a bit lost. “I have to get to my psych class. I-I’m late,” he squints again and bites his lip. Damn, if the twang isn’t sexy as hell, coming from his deep voice. “Sorry, Nicole.”

  My eyes drop to my books and I realize he may be able to help me and since he is here….

  “Oh, I’m trying to find the psych building. This map isn’t helping. Can I follow you?” I ask shyly. I have no idea what has gotten into me. I could’ve just followed him there without asking, but there is something about him I can’t put my finger on. I don’t want to let him go yet, not until the nagging in my brain sets me free.

  “I…you…you want to walk with me? I can point it out to you if that’s what you would like,” he offers, and his cheeks flush under the cover of his golden beard.

  “I think we could walk together if t
hat’s okay,” I speak the word before thinking.

  I remember him mentioning a Dakota and blush. Maybe his girlfriend wouldn’t want him walking with another girl. He seems to be a bit nervous. I hold up the schedule to show him where I’m headed.

  “I mean, if it’s a problem, you can just show me. This is my class here.”

  I rush the words out feeling awkward, but he shakes his head as his eyes seemed to clear. As if just having a sudden thought, he reaches for my books, taking them from my hands and wrapping my small hand in his huge one. Next thing I know, we are walking in the opposite direction of where I’d been heading.

  I should be in a panic, having this huge stranger leading me by the hand with almost a possessive grip on me. I didn’t though. I feel safe, almost like for this moment, I’m his precious cargo and he is going to make sure I arrive safely.

  We make it to class as the professor enters the lecture hall, through another door close to the front of the room. Too bad our arrival seems to be more interesting to the rest of the class. I hear some gasps and murmurs broke out around the room. I peek up at my guide and he gives me the first sign of a smile, since we crashed into each other.

  “Perry,” a gorgeous blonde hisses, as she appears at his side. “You’re late. Come on, I have our seats.”

  “Sorry, Dakota,” he murmurs and gives her a boyish smile. “This is your class, Nicole. Here are your books, sorry again.”

  He turns that smile to me as he hands me my books. Then he’s off to the front of the class with the pretty blonde. I feel left behind and embarrassed for the silly feelings I have from his holding my hand. I bite my lip, as I realize my skin is still tingling from where our skin had touched.