Broken Course (Wrecked and Ruined #3)(4)

It’s been fourteen years since I went on my last first date. Although I’m not even sure you can really call that a date. I met Brett Sharp at a bar when I was twenty-one years old. Our first date was the next morning after he’d spent the night at my apartment holding my hair while I puked. He took me to breakfast, and within three hours, we were having sex on the floor in my apartment. Less than a year later, I married him. We spent seven years together before my life was altered forever.

That whole whirlwind, wild-abandon love is not exactly what I am going for this time around, but a real date with someone who has no clue who I am—or, better yet, who I was—sounds amazing…and yes, still terrifying.

Me: Sure. No Problem.

Leo: Tomorrow?

"Why the hell can’t he make it?" Emma asks from behind me.

"Work." I continue to stare at the screen on my phone.

"What’s he do anyway? Is he loaded?"

"He owns a security company," I answer distractedly, trying to formulate a response.

Do I want to go out with him tomorrow night? I think so. Does the idea of going out with him tomorrow make me want to crawl into a hole and hide? Completely. My response must take too long, because my phone chirps again.

Leo: Feel free to copy and paste. "Sure, Leo. I can’t wait to see you."

"What’s he saying?" she asks, settling down on the couch next to me.

"He wants to go out tomorrow night. Em, I can’t do this. He’s going to realize I’m a basket case and it’s going to hurt like hell to swallow that giant pill of rejection. I’m just not ready yet."

"You’re full of shit. You should have seen the way your face fell when he said he couldn’t make it."

"I can’t do it!" I yell more at myself than at Emma.

"What if Caleb and I go with you tomorrow night? We can drop Collin off with his sister and go to a bar. If Leo sucks or if you panic, you’ll have us there as a buffer."

I laugh humorlessly. "No f*cking way."

My relationship with Emma’s husband Caleb is…well, unusual. Up until eighteen months ago, he hated me. I don’t mean he just disliked me. I mean he wouldn’t have poured water on me if I caught fire. And rightly so—I killed his fiancée. Or at least it had appeared that way at the time.

Emma’s husband, Caleb, was engaged to my best friend, Manda Baker. He was the only person in the world who loved that fiery redhead more than I did. Emma is my sister by blood, but as far as I am concerned, Manda was no different. There isn’t a single day that passes where I don’t wish that she were still here.

Seven years ago, I was involved in a car accident that destroyed all of our lives. I suffered a traumatic brain injury that changed my personality so drastically that it left me lost and confused in a life I recognized but was completely emotionally unattached to. And Manda…well, she paid the greatest price of all. She never took another breath after our car collided with that fated tree. I have no memory of that night whatsoever, and because I was the sole survivor of the accident, no one really knew what had actually transpired. However, jaded and grief stricken, Caleb blamed me. And he wasn’t the only one. I blamed myself for Manda’s death as well.

Eighteen months ago, our other best friend, Casey Black, shed light on what had really happened that night. No one had any clue that she’d even been there when the accident had taken place—much less that she had been driving the car. Her on-again, off-again fling, Eli Tanner, had helped her leave the scene unnoticed. However, before her shocking confession, I’d lived with that guilt. I knew how it felt to be consumed by it.

The pain of waking up every day knowing what I’d done was crippling. I hated myself, I hated my life, and I hated the very air in my lungs that was absent from Manda’s. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I had every memory from my old life but none of the emotions to match them. I didn’t get nostalgic when I thought about the past; I felt nothing. The emptiness was agonizing. The only feelings I could remember were attached to the memories of Manda, and she was gone. I couldn’t even remember how it felt to be happy, much less how to find it again.

My husband at the time, Brett, fought to save me from myself, but it only made me more anxious and confused. I was supposed to love him. I knew that. But I couldn’t figure out why, and I loathed myself so much that I couldn’t rationalize why he would want to love me. But he did it anyway.

Over those first four years after the accident, I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. I hurt everyone who had ever loved me. As selfish as it sounds, I just needed some way to escape the pain. There was a barrage of people huddled around me, showing me unconditional love, but I felt virtually nothing for them in return. I pushed away my family and friends as I hid from reality. They just couldn’t understand the person I’d become overnight. Hell, I couldn’t understand it myself. So when it became more than I could bear, I finally decided to end it all.

I survived my every attempt at taking my own life mainly because Brett was absolutely unwilling to let me go. Until, one day, he wasn’t. The day Brett Sharp let me go was the same day I hit rock bottom. Coincidentally, it was also the day I was given back my life.

I did a lot of terrible things to the people who loved the old Sarah—especially Brett. He didn’t deserve everything I put him through. I was utterly horrible. I’m not too f*cked up to be able to recognize that. Even while it was happening, I knew the things I was doing were wrong, but my life had spiraled out of control. Hate and abuse were the only ways I felt I could convey my inner misery.