Fractured Hearts (Shattered Lives, Book Three) Read online

  Gunther turned to Josie. “Where the fuck is Henry?!”

  “Shitfaced in the mechanical room. Remember?”

  “Fuck. Right.” He rubbed his forehead. “I need his keys. Please be careful while you’re out here running around. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  Before Gunther turned back for the school, Quinn and Josie ran down the road, screaming for Silas. Every second he was gone was more worrisome than the last.

  Vomit quickly rocketed from my body, splattering on the cement floor. “Ugh, fuck…,” I breathed out.

  And again.

  Maybe it was over.

  Oh, wait… Again.

  I didn’t think my belly would stop its twisting grip on my insides. My muscles were so clenched, I thought they would crush my bones. I was glad to be alone during my deplorable “vomit-fest”.

  My palms and knees ached from the pressure of the floor. I was a prat for letting myself get so fucked up when Silas was missing.

  The door flew open. So much for my party of one.

  “Henry…” The voice pounded in my eardrums. I was heaving, trying to catch my breath, holding up one hand to indicate I needed a second. “Damn, lad. What the fuck are you doing to yourself?”

  “Shut up, prick,” I mumbled as vomit dripped from my lips. Jesus suffering fuck, when would it end?

  “Give me your keys, mate. I need to drive around to find Silas.”

  “I’ll do it.” I stumbled to a standing position, wiping my mouth and chin with the sleeve of my hoodie.

  “No way. Look at you. You’re a fucking wreck. Give me your keys.”

  “Out of my way.” I staggered toward the brick wall in my way. “Move! I need to find him.” Gunther didn’t move a muscle and I was in no shape to make him.

  “Give me your fucking keys before I get them myself,” he growled, and I laughed. What can I say? I’ve always had poor timing. He grabbed me by the throat and slammed me up against the wall. “You arse! You think you’re a leader, you pissed-up motherfucker?” he snarled in my face. “I thought I smelled booze on your breath every-fucking-day. Get a bloody grip, mate. You can’t live like this! You’ll eventually run dry. What are you going to do then?”

  I was choking under his firm grip. Tears formed in my eyes from the strain of trying to breathe. He had me by the bollocks and he knew it. “Fuck…you. I’ll take…my…chances.”

  While he had me pinned against the wall, his big mitts invaded my pockets. “Here we are!” he exclaimed, shaking my keys in front of my face.

  Gunther let me go, dropping me to the floor before he ran out of the room. My vision wavered and the booze-induced exhaustion went into overdrive. A quick rest, then I would help in the search.

  Sprinting down the hallway, Gunther met Elaina halfway. She had Callie on her hip, and Kate curled into her body. Her eyes were wet and her jaw trembled. It was easy to tell she was trying to keep her emotions at bay for the girls.

  “Have you found him yet?” she choked out.

  “No, but your boyfriend is shitfaced in the mechanical room, puking his brains out.”

  She put her face in her hand and said, “Oh no.”

  “Yeah. He’s a fucking wreck and needs help. We’ll take care of that later. I’ve got to go.” Gunther ran out of the building.

  Cora and Nick were still checking around the town center. Gunther jumped into Henry’s truck. With the first turn of the key, it roared to life. He lowered the window, threw it in gear, and stomped on the gas. He spun around the school and headed toward the bunker. It was the only other place he thought Silas could have possibly gone.

  When Quinn and Josie came into sight, he hit the brakes. “Jump in!” After they slammed the doors, they both lowered their windows and continued to yell for Silas. “How long has he been gone?” Gunther asked.

  Jagged cries came out of Josie’s tiny body. “I don’t know. I thought he was with Cora, and she thought he was with me.”

  Trying to console her from the front seat, Quinn said, “Honey, don’t rest this on your shoulders. These things happen. It’s just more worrisome when it happens nowadays.”

  “I’ll never be able to forgive myself if something happens to him,” Josie sobbed into her hands.

  “There he is!” Gunther yelled as he slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded to a stop, and he jammed it into park. “Silas!” Throwing open the door, he ran to him. Gunther grabbed him by the arms and almost shook him before he yelled, “Don’t you ever leave the town center without your mum again! Do you understand me?!” Relieved, he picked Silas up and held him close.

  “But, Mr. Gunther, I just wanted to find my daddy. Momma cries at night about him.”

  Silas’ innocence and lack of understanding struck Gunther. “Oh, buddy…,” he whispered.

  “Where’s my daddy? Momma keeps saying he’s out looking for food, but he hasn’t come back yet. We have food now. I wanted to find him and tell him he doesn’t have to look anymore.”

  Gunther set Silas down and knelt to his level. “Listen to me, mate.” His voice turned grave. “I know this is going to make you sad, but I don’t think your daddy’s coming back.”

  The anguish in little Silas’ bright blue eyes was unmistakable, leaving Gunther feeling gutted. “But why?” he asked in a small voice.

  “There are a lot of people in the world who are sick. We think your daddy may have gotten sick, too.”

  “Why are they sick?”

  Gunther sighed. “Look, buddy, I don’t have all the answers right now, but I can tell you that your mum is really sad because she can’t find you. So let’s go back to the town center, shall we?”

  “Okay.” Silas took his hand. “Mr. Gunther?”

  “Yeah, buddy?”

  Gazing up at him, Silas asked, “Why are your hands so cold?”

  “I’m just always cold,” he replied, a surge of shame tearing through his body.

  “If your hands are cold, you should wear gloves,” Silas said, completely satisfied with the advice he had given to Gunther, who couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “That I should, Silas. Very good advice. Thank you, mate.” He tousled the brown curly mop on his head. Thrilled and beyond relieved, Gunther picked him up and slid him in next to Josie. She was still wiping away her tears. “Now you listen to me. Your mum is probably going to punish you, and it’s well-deserved. Do you understand me?”

  Ashamed, Silas looked down at his hands and picked at his grubby fingernails. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.

  Gunther grabbed his chin and raised his face to meet his eyes. “You need to promise me that you will never, ever run away again. It’s far too dangerous.”

  Quiet and shy, a sniffle at the end, his little voice broke. “Never, ever. I promise, sir.”

  “I mean it. If you run away again, I will have to talk to your mum about giving you a greater punishment. Okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” Silas sniffled again.

  Gunther hugged him, feeling a little guilty for his chaste tone. “I love you, buddy,” he whispered in his ear.

  “I love you, too, Mr. Gunther.” He pulled away and smiled at Silas. Gunther got back into the truck and turned it around, heading back. “Mr. Gunther?”

  “Yes, buddy?”

  “If we never find my daddy…can you be my daddy?”

  With pursed lips, Gunther looked over at Quinn, tears threatening to stream down her face. Not knowing what to say, he reached over to squeeze her thigh. Placing her hand on top of his, she matched his grasp. “I would love to be,” he murmured.

  They arrived back at the school minutes later.

  Nick and Cora ran to the truck. Josie opened her door, allowing Silas to jump out. “Oh, my god. Si Si!” Cora cried as she grabbed him.

  “Momma, don’t cry. I’m okay,” Silas reassured her.

  Cora set him down. With a healthy glare, she scolded, “Now you listen to me, baby boy. You cannot run away like that! You scared me so much!” She pulled him into another h
ug.

  “I was looking for daddy,” Silas countered in a serious tone.

  Hands cupping Silas’ face, she cried, “Oh, Si…”

  “But momma, I asked Mr. Gunther if he could be my daddy if we can’t find daddy. And guess what he said?” Cora whipped her head around and glared at Gunther.

  Right then, he knew what he said was wrong. He leaned against the truck, feeling the pride of finding Silas slip away.

  “And what did Mr. Gunther say?” The inflection in her voice sent a chill down his spine.

  Unable to contain his excitement, he jumped up and down. “Yes! He said yes! So we will have a daddy no matter what.”

  Still glaring at Gunther, Cora’s eyes went dry and lit with white hot anger as she slowly rose to her feet. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, momma. Know what else he said?”

  “What else did Mr. Gunther say?”

  “That daddy probably died from a sickness,” Silas murmured matter-of-factly, not seeming to understand the severity of the situation.

  “Here, baby boy. Take Josie’s hand, and go catch up with Kate and Callie. I need to speak to Mr. Gunther about all the things he said to you.”

  Fuck, Gunther thought, knowing he was in some serious shit. She marched up to him like a woman on a mission, wearing a ferocious expression. Her hand flew up from her side and slapped him across the face.

  Head whipping to the side, he reached for his cheek. In an instant, the handprint went red, matching the color of outrage across Cora’s cheeks. Gunther growled, “What the hell was that for?”

  “How dare you!” Cora fumed.

  Coming to his aid, Quinn stepped in front of Gunther. “How dare you?! He just saved your son and that’s the thanks he gets?!”

  “How could you tell him Peter was sick and died?” she growled at Gunther, then shifted her focus to Quinn. “He has no right to tell my son that Peter is dead, or that he would be his daddy! That is my job to do as I see fit! I know what my son can and cannot understand!”

  “Silas is hungry for a father figure. Gunther has been the only thing close to that for him. Your children need to know the truth and not live thinking Peter will return at any moment,” Quinn snipped.

  “He will never be his daddy, and don’t tell me how to raise my children!”

  “He knows that, Cora. But Silas was looking for some solace because he hasn’t seen his daddy in quite some time.”

  Cora trembled. “You stay away from my children!” she yelled as she ran toward the school.

  Without anybody knowing, Nick had approached behind Cora, watching the scene play out. “You all right?” he asked Quinn.

  “Yes,” she said. “Thank you.” Nick nodded, turned around, and walked back toward the building himself. Quinn faced Gunther. “You okay, lover?”

  He still had his hand planted on his cheek, so Quinn reached up and put her hand over his. “Uh…yeah, I guess,” he mumbled, on the verge of shedding a few tears. He tried to hold it back, but it proved to be a struggle. Cora’s words stabbed him right in the heart.

  “Oh, lover…” Quinn wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have said those things. I fucked up.”

  “You love him, and she hates you for it,” she whispered.

  “I don’t think she hates me.” Gunther pulled back a little. “She’s just upset her husband isn’t here to help her. I love those kids. I felt an instant connection with Silas.”

  Quinn cupped his scruffy face in her hands. “I know you do. I will talk with her and try to square this away. She had no right to hit you, though.”

  “No. I will talk to her when this shit settles down.”

  Quinn wiped the couple tears off of his face, then brushed her lips over his. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat and not think about this anymore.”

  “Yeah. I’d like that, but I have to go check on Henry first. The last I saw him, he was puking his brains out.”

  Her face scrunched up. “Okay, well…I’ll meet you for dinner then?”

  Her sultry brown eyes melted Gunther every time. He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “Sounds like a date to me.”

  Gunther jumped back into the truck and watched Quinn walk back to the school. She glanced over her shoulder, gazing at him in a flirty manner. He groaned at the sight of her purposeful strut. “Damn you, woman,” he mumbled, enjoying the view.

  Chapter 2

  Gunther was walking down the hallway when he met up with Elaina. “Hey. Is he still in there?” he asked.

  Her face was angry, and her tone was irate. “I don’t know,” she growled. “Henry and I have talked about his drinking a thousand times! I’ve tried to dump as much as I can, but he won’t leave me alone long enough so I can dump everything.”

  “I was coming to check on him. See if you needed help since he could barely stand before,” Gunther offered, not knowing what else to say about it.

  “I appreciate that,” she said.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  She sighed. “Do I really want to answer that question? I feel somewhat responsible.” She swallowed. “He started his really heavy drinking when we were broken up, shortly after all this began. His drinking before was more of a casual kind of thing. Although, on several occasions, he could really pour the drinks back.” She paused for a moment. “I suppose he was what’s called a ‘functioning alcoholic’. He did tell me he started drinking after his first severe beating that hospitalized him.”

  Gunther knew she must have been wondering if that was because of him. It was. He fucked him up big time—fractured his skull. It was a beating that got out of control. If it hadn’t been for the quick actions of the clinic nurse, he probably would’ve had a true death.

  Holding back the tears, she spoke again, “But the drinking increased dramatically after Sophie died.”

  With a genuine concern for Henry, Gunther mumbled, “I’m sorry.” She put her face in her hands in an effort to hide her red-cheeked humiliation. He squatted down to her, putting his face in front of hers, then peeled her hands away. “Hey. Come on. It’s going to be okay. We’ll get him cleaned up. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “You would do that?” she asked, as they headed off to fetch Henry.

  Embarrassed, he replied, “I owe that, and so much more, to him.”

  Her voice broke, “I love him so much.”

  “I know. I can see that. We’ve been through a lot and, obviously, I’m not innocent here. I have affected him, too. Before he came to the States, we had a few encounters that were…less than polite, shall we say. This may be the wrong time, but I feel I need to say this to you. I’m very sorry about what happened to Claire and the baby.”

  Waving her hands to make him stop, she said, “Please. I can’t talk about that right now, and I’m not sure if I will ever be able to. I need to focus on Henry. His health is my main priority.” More tears trickled down her face, followed by more sniffles.

  “Right. Yes. I’m sorry.” Gunther patted his pockets. “I’d give you a tissue but, sadly, I seem to be fresh out.”

  Through her misery, she laughed, enjoying his quirky sense of humor. “I miss that in Henry. He hasn’t made me laugh in a really long time.”

  “We will get that back for you. I promise.”

  When they made it to the door of the mechanical room, Elaina stopped and took a deep breath. She paced in front of the door for a few moments before Gunther grabbed the handle.

  Opening the door, they were struck with the stench of liquor and vomit. “Ah, yes. My two favorite smells combined in one aromatic delight closed off in a small, tight space. Refreshing. Glade should patent it,” Elaina grumbled.

  They stepped in. Henry was lying on his stomach, seemingly unconscious, next to a puddle of whatever he ate and poured down his throat.

  It truly was a sad situation to see and Gunther felt horrible for his role in it. “Shit,�
� he muttered, looking down at the wreck on the floor.

  Elaina began to cry again, but she sucked it back. Strong woman. However, her eyes said it all. There was nothing but hopelessness. In a whisper, she said, “Look at him… My heart goes out to him when he’s like this. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found him in this same position. He’s so broken and I don’t know how to fix him.” She knelt and ran the back of her hand over his cheek. “Henry…” She shook him, but he was out cold. “Henry…,” she said again, a little louder. “I think I’m going to need some help getting him back to our room.”

  With a sigh, Gunther said, “Let me try. I’ll pick him up first.”

  Gunther bent down and picked Henry up, pressing one palm into his chest, holding him against the wall. He was like a ragdoll just flopping about. “Henry!” Gunther hollered, causing Henry to startle—limbs windmilled for a split second before they went limp again. “Henry, wake your arse up! You need to get back to your room.”

  Gunther lightly slapped Henry’s cheek, causing his arms to flail about as he mumbled something that was nothing more than a drunken slur. His legs, seemingly made of rubber bands, were fighting for purchase on the vomit-covered floor. There was no way he was going to be able to walk on his own.

  “You take one side. I’ll take the other,” Elaina muttered. “I hope no one sees this. He would be humiliated.”

  Gunther and Elaina wrapped their arms around Henry and dragged him back to their room. He helped her strip him out of his clothes, then put him into bed. It was like dealing with a two hundred pound sloth on downers.

  Standing over Henry, her hands on her hips, Elaina examined him. The tears started to flow again.

  “Hey, now. Come on. Let’s step outside so we can chat.”

  She followed Gunther out the door, closing it with a click behind her. She waited quietly but anxious.

  Elaina wanted life for him. Henry needed to open his eyes and see what he was doing to himself. She wanted to love him back into health, but, at the same time, beat the shit out of him until he promised to change. Most of all, Elaina wanted him to love and believe in himself. She knew he could, backwards and hopping on one leg, carry everyone to the finish line, but he didn’t see that in himself. Henry only saw the devastation, the pain, and the insecurities, which made him lift the bottle to his lips.