Fragile Hearts
Authors: Colleen Clay
Fragile
Hearts
Colleen
Clay
This
book is dedicated to those who never give up, even when the odds are stacked
against them.
Fragile Hearts
Copyright © 2014 by Verna Clay
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this
book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information contact:
Website: www.VernaClay.com
Publisher:
M.O.I.
Publishing
"Mirrors of Imagination"
Cover Design:
Verna Clay
Picture:
iStock (iconogenic)
This book
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
Table
of Contents
Candy Kisses
(excerpt)
Romance on the Ranch #4
Christmas Kisses
(excerpt)
Romance on the Ranch #5
Novels and
Novellas by Verna Clay
After reading a collection of Young Adult
novels, I decided to try my hand at writing in a genre new for me, and
Fragile
Hearts
is my debut story. Of course, trying anything new is both
frightening and exciting, and I found myself alternately biting my nails or cheering
myself onward.
As for my own personal taste in leading
characters, I prefer my heroes and heroines to be utterly mismatched. To me, a hot
guy and a glamorous gal getting together is boring. As a result, one of my leads
is neither popular nor physically gifted. Both characters, however, are
multifaceted, sometimes hurting, but always honorable by the end of the story.
My storyline contains obstacles intended to build character in my characters.
In
Fragile Hearts,
the heroine is Morgan
Wheeler, a woman fragile both in body and spirit, and I had to listen with my
heart to understand her.
The hero, Tyce Brandon, is a complex man of
substance, but also fragile in spirit.
Both leading characters have suffered
terribly—physical limitation and scars being obvious for Morgan, emotional scars
for both of them.
As for the town of Brookside in Arizona, it is a
fabrication of my imagination. I needed a midsize town with a local college,
and rather than search for a town fitting my needs, I created one.
I have chosen to use the author name of Colleen
Clay because Verna Clay is associated mostly with my contemporary and
historical westerns.
Finally, I'd like to mention that this book is
written in first person, present tense. Normally, I would not choose to write
in this tense, but the characters assured me it's what they wanted. I have also
written the romance from the point of view of both characters. Part I is
Morgan's perspective and Part II is Tyce's. The timeframe is the same for both
individuals, so you can experience déjà vu when you reach Part II and read from
Tyce's point of view.
I hope you enjoy Morgan Wheeler and Tyce
Brandon's romance.
Colleen Clay
: Sexy Blue
Late August, 2013
I glance at the printout. My first day at university
and I'm lost. My mouth goes dry and my palms start to sweat.
So much for
being a brave soul unafraid of facing the world,
I sarcastically berate
myself. I know it's stupid to feel so scared when all I have to do is ask someone
where Psych 101, Room 11A, is located.
"Ah, you look a little lost. Can I help you
find wherever you're supposed to be?"
The deep voice that's a little scratchy startles
me and I drop my printout in my lap. Placing my hand over my heart, I jerk my
head up and fall into blue eyes. They're bluer than the water on the Big Island
where I spent a week's vacation with my family when I was thirteen—a year
before the end-of-my-life as I knew it.
My heart jumps into my throat when I look from
the azure eyes, to the straight nose, to the sexy mouth with perfect teeth—except
for a slightly crooked eye tooth—to a dimple-crease on the left side of a
beautifully chiseled face—the kind of face a woman would be hard-pressed not to
fall for.
Instinctively, I place one hand over the right
side of my face, and with the other, I adjust the lever of my wheelchair to move
it out of the way of oncoming students, but I can't get my vocal chords to
move. The guy gives me a curious look. He probably thinks I'm mentally challenged,
as well. He tilts his head to read the printout in my lap. His hair is close
cropped, but not a buzz cut, and a shade lighter than my own.
He says, "Room 11A. Well, it just so
happens my class is a few doors down so I can
personally
escort you
there."
The guy is being super nice. My voice finally
works. "Oh, hey, no need. I don't want to hold you up. Just point me in
the right direction." My eyes are drawn to a tat on the hot guy's right
arm—a snake that wraps around his forearm from elbow to wrist. He shifts his
backpack and his T-shirt sleeve slides above an impressive left bicep. There's
another black snake encircling it.
He looks at me again with an expression I can't
decipher and I feel even more flustered. Rather than argue and appear pathetic,
I reply, "Ah, okay. I'll follow you."
He grins and that dimple-crease peeks at me
again. The guy starts forward but turns around and walks backward. Maybe he thinks
I'm such a lame brain I might not follow him.
Whatever.
The classroom that's been giving me hives turns
out to be only a few paces down an intersecting hallway. The awesome guy stands
in front of the door waiting for me. Because of my upbringing, I know I have to
thank him.
Overcome by the curse I've been born with—shyness—I
feel my face turn as red as the stripes on the American flag I passed when I
entered the halls of Brookside University, a private college in my hometown of
Brookside, Arizona, east of Tucson, and off the I-10. My manners prevail.
"Thank you for coming to the rescue."
Did that sound dumb?
The guy holds his hand out for a shake. "Tyce
Brandon."
Almost imperceptibly, I shrink backwards. I
can't help myself. Since the accident that killed my sister and her boyfriend,
and disabled me, I don't like being touched by strangers. I stare at his hand,
willing myself to grasp it.
I can't.
Instead, I lift eyes almost overflowing with
tears. "I'm Morgan Wheeler."
The guy pulls his hand back and smiles so sweetly,
I blink, and a tear leaks. Jerking my head down, I quickly maneuver my chair
into the room. Before I've gone three feet, a pair of faded Levis and worn Nikes
step in front of me, and once again I find myself staring up into eyes too
beautiful for words. I almost gasp when the guy goes down on one knee in front
of me. "Morgan, if you need anything, you just let me know."
I want to pinch myself. Am I dreaming? I open my
mouth but nothing comes out.
"Promise?" he prods.
Slowly, I nod. He gives me another
heart-stopping grin, and then he's gone.
Did I just hallucinate this guy?
Rolling my chair to the back of the room, I hope
to make it there without knocking someone's books off their desk. I still feel
hot with embarrassment and want to cry. The dozen or so students in the room had
all stopped what they were doing when Tyce knelt in front of me. Most have gone
back to talking or pulling stuff out of their backpacks, but not all. Over by
the windows, three pretty girls whisper and keep glancing in my direction. I
hate garnering attention.
Finally, I reach a desk at the back and maneuver
my chair as close as I can. Although the room is accommodating with a desk for
wheelchairs, it's in the front row. I never sit in front. Not only am I in a
wheelchair, but I have a facial scar that, as much as I try to cover it with
makeup, is still slightly visible. It runs from the middle of my right cheek to
below my jaw and over to my ear. Cosmetic surgery and time have minimized the
scarring, but not my awareness of it.
It takes a second before I realize someone is
speaking to me.
"Hello, earth to whoever you are." The
girl at the desk next to mine, wearing a red T-shirt that clashes with her
orange hair, tries again, "Hellooo. My name is Lucy. I'm a sophomore.
What's your name? I'm guessing you're a freshman?"
The girl seems genuinely friendly, not like some
people who only act friendly, but can't wait to get away from the invalid in
the wheelchair.
For the second time within minutes, I introduce
myself. "I'm Morgan Wheeler, and yes, this is my first year."
"Nice to meet you, Morgan. Oh, my last name—are
you ready for this—is Arnez. Yep, my mother loved Lucille Ball so much that she
couldn't resist naming me after her daughter so she could introduce me as Lucy Arnez.
The spelling's a little different, but it sounds the same.
I immediately like the friendly girl and
uncharacteristically joke, "Do you have a brother named Desi, Jr., or a
dad named Desi?"
Lucy grins. "Nope. My dad's name was John
and he died when I was five. I'm an only child. After me, my mom said she
couldn't handle more children. She said raising me was like raising triplets."
Lucy chuckles at her own joke. "What about you. Got any brothers or
sisters?"
A stab of pain pierces my heart for my dead
sister. "Ah, two brothers, Nate and Les. Nate is four years older and Les
is three years younger." I don't tell her about Emily who died at the age
of seventeen.
Lucy leans closer. "You
do
know,
don't you, that the guy who knelt in front of you is the hottest of the hot
guys on campus, right?"
"Um, no. I didn't know that."
"Well, now you do. He's a senior and super
smart. I think he tutors a lot of students."
"Oh, that's nice."
Another lame
response.
"I think he's between girlfriends. From
what I've heard through the gossip mill, he used to go with Cindy Thornton."
She motions toward the window with her eyes. "Those girls that keep
glancing your way and whispering are some of her friends."
I lower my lashes and peek in their direction. True
to what Lucy said, they're still eyeing me and whispering.
Lucy leans closer, lowers her voice, and says
expressively, "O. M. G., when Tyce knelt in front of you with all that
male intensity, I thought someone might have to peel me off the floor."
Our conversation is suddenly interrupted when a very
short, stocky man, with bushy gray hair pulled into a low ponytail, walks into
the room.
In a booming voice that should belong to a tall
man, he says, "Welcome newbies to Psych 101. My name is Professor Shields.
Hopefully, by the end of the semester, you'll have learned something useful for
everyday living."
As much as I try to concentrate on what
Professor Shields is saying, I can't get Tyce Brandon out of my thoughts. Why
would the campus hottie even notice me?
He probably felt sorry for the crippled girl.
After an hour of listening to Professor Shields
call roll, warn students about intolerable behavior, and finally introduce
class objectives, he writes the homework assignment on the whiteboard and
dismisses us. I'm almost finished copying the instructions when I hear Lucy's
quick intake of breath and feel the atmosphere in the room shift, like it just got
electrified. Gut instinct tells me Tyce Brandon is back.
Lucy drops her pencil on the floor. When she bends
to retrieve it, she let's loose with an F-bomb and whispers, "He's coming
our way."
I nervously place a hand over my scarred cheek. After
I lift my lashes, I wonder if I'll be able to speak. Tyce looks better than any
model in GQ magazine. Dropping onto the vacant desk on the other side of me, he
says, "Hello, Morgan Wheeler. How was psych class?"
"It was, um…" I decide the truth would
be best. "Long and boring."
He laughs. "I can relate. My class was also
long and boring." He glances at Lucy. "Hello, I'm Tyce Brandon. And
you are…?"
Lucy stutters, "L-Lucy Arnez."
Tyce blinks. "Seriously? That's your
name?"
Lucy's face blushes the same color as her hair, but
she says evenly, "Seriously, it is."
Tyce grins and I see his crooked tooth. To Lucy
he says, "Cute name."
Lucy blushes even more.
"Hellooo, Tyce," says a sexy voice.
It's one of the pretty girls with her friends beside her. They give little
waves to Tyce.
I think I see a slight grimace in his expression,
but I'm not sure. He says, "Hello Tina. How's it going?"
"Great. Hey, are you coming to the party at
Lenny's tonight?"
"You know I'm not into those parties."
Tina glances at me and then Lucy, not even
acknowledging us. She returns her attention to Tyce. "One can always hope.
Hey, I'll tell Cindy I saw you."
Other than a slight narrowing of his eyes,
Tyce's expression doesn't change and he says casually, "You do that."
He returns his attention to me and Lucy.
Now that he's not looking at her, Tina gives me
and Lucy a venomous look.
So much for being invisible. I'm probably on her
shit list now.
Tina leaves and Tyce asks me, "What's your
next class?"
I reach for the paper I tucked in the side
pocket of my wheelchair.
Why is he being so nice to me?
"It's water
aerobics. It doesn't start for almost an hour. Ah, I know where the gym is
located."
"Okay. What about your class after
that?"
I look at my schedule and my face must reflect
my horror. "Speech. Room 7, Building G."
"Hey, speech class isn't that bad. Who's
your teacher?"
I look back at the paper. "Professor Wilkes."
"He's great. Believe me, you'll enjoy the
class. The room's not far from the gymnasium. When you leave the gym's main
entrance, turn right. The first building is H. Enter that building and continue
to the exit at the end of the hallway. The building directly in front of you
will be G." He glances at Lucy. "You were a student here last year,
right? Do you need directions?"
Lucy stumbles over her words. "N-no. I'm
good."
Tyce stands and stretches a little. "Well,
ladies, it was nice meeting you. Let me know if I can help with anything. See
you around."
After he leaves, I hear Lucy visibly exhale. She
says, "Did you see that man's eyes? I think he's invented a new shade of
blue called, Sexy Blue. Geez, I'm sweating and my heart is racing like a
jackhammer." She turns speculative eyes on me. "He sure had those
sexy blues on you."
Shocked, I reply. "That's crazy."
"Crazy or not. I know what I saw."