CHAPTER ONE
Jasmeen
We married young.
It was paradise, until my husband’s dreams became a reality. I supported his dreams, don’t get me wrong, but I had no idea those dreams would also be the end of us. Maybe we were both naïve, and both played a part in the implosion of our marriage.
And it did implode. There was no outward explosion. No shrapnel, not a thing out of place. I held it together so strongly, I started to crack inside. Splinters marred the inside of my heart, and they were spreading at breakneck speeds.
I was at work, at a job I hated, when I got the call. Mom had been trying to get a hold of me for weeks, and though I wouldn’t say I was avoiding her, I was highly aware of my caller ID. But talking to my mother in that moment was better than my work load. Which said something. Mom was passive aggressive on most things. She meant well, in a weird sort of way, but it often came out wrong. Or maybe I just wanted her to mean well. Maybe I was the one who heard wrong.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
I answered my cell and set my pen down, rubbing my temple as I did so. “Hey, Mom.”
“Have you heard?”
“Heard what?” My eyes blurred, and I turned away from my monitor. The numbers weren’t working, no matter how hard I tried to squeeze and cram them. I wanted so badly to be able to say yes to Mr. Cam. He’d worked so hard and so long, and the loan to start his business relied on my say or nay. But I couldn’t make money appear. My boss would never agree with the down payment he had to offer.
“Are you even listening to me?”
I blinked. No. “Of course.”
“Then what did I say?”
“Why don’t you jog my memory?” I relented, eyes glancing at my notebook before I tore them away.
“Gavin got hurt. It’s really bad.”
My heart sank, and my mind went to the worst place. “Is he okay?” I sat up straight.
“I don’t know. His manager called me last night. He’s been in surgery all morning. He said he’ll call when he knows more.”
My eyes blurred for a different reason. Reality wavered in front of me. I detested my ex-husband, but that didn’t mean I stopped caring about him. That was the thing about love. It didn’t simply go away. Once it existed, it was like a new organ in your body. Dormant, but waiting for a reason to live again. Gavin Cobalt took my reason with him after he ripped my heart out.
“Why did his manager call you?” I asked, and even to my own ears I sounded faint.
“Jasmeen,” Mother warned. “Don’t go into a panic.”
It was too late for that. “Why, Mom?”
“Because you’re still Gavin’s emergency contact. I guess he never changed it. And it isn’t like he has family to call. You’re it, Jasmeen.”
I put the cold back of my hand to my suddenly hot face. “Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”
Gavin always had a girlfriend. The tabloids were nice enough to taunt me, and if they couldn’t reach me, then the newspaper did just fine. And if all else failed, social media caught me up on the escapades of my ex-husband.
“I don’t know. His manager left me his number. Write it down and call him.”
“No,” I heard myself say. “Gavin and I are no longer married. He isn’t my responsibility. He has his life and I have mine.”
“Jasmeen,” she admonished, and I heard the depth of her disappointment in me. “You need to get over it already. It’s been four years. You’ve known that boy since he was ten-years-old. You know you’re all he has. Call his manager, or I will,” she threatened.
I hated how guilty she made me feel. I didn’t cheat on Gavin. He cheated on me, more than once, if the tabloids were telling even a shred of the truth. He broke us. Not me. Why was I always the bad guy for trying to salvage myself?
“Go ahead,” I told her, and then hung up. I set my phone down on my desk, and then my panic unfurled in my chest like a withered purple aster flower. Just the mention of our flower had my eyes burning.
Gavin used to love to make me smile. When we were dating as teenagers, it was much easier to do. It took little. And he turned purple asters into my favorite. They were so alive and vibrant, so in your face and demanding, but also possessed a slight hint of sadness to their beauty. Just like him. When he cheated, and we’d separated, he sent me a single purple aster flower every day for a year. On that day, our divorce finalized, and I hadn’t gotten a single flower, phone call, email, or acknowledgement from Gavin Cobalt since.
I hadn’t contacted him either. I forbade myself from even thinking of him. I worked fifteen-hour days, I drank too much wine, and I slept. I admitted that sounded pathetic. I was drowning in depression while Gavin was out living the life of a professional hockey player. His team had won the Stanley Cup last year, and I watched from afar as he shone like the star he always wanted to be.
While I fizzled in the sky and fell into a black hole.
Anger reared itself inside of me, growing to maximum levels. How dare anyone call me to help a man who destroyed me?
I stiffened my jaw and sat up straight, returning to my work. I worked the numbers for two more hours before I gave in to the overwhelming desire to look Gavin up. My shaking fingers opened a fresh browser, and I typed in his name.
What came up had me gasping for air. He’d been in a helicopter accident, crashing in Upstate New York last night after a game against the Rangers. They’d won. Five to two. I read article after article.
The only person who survived was Gavin.
But for how long?
My entire world fell out from under me. My heart felt like it stopped beating. Didn’t want to beat without him. Couldn’t believe she’d managed to even beat this long.
But what could I do? I wasn’t his wife. I wasn’t even his friend anymore. I was his ex. I had no choice but to watch from afar like everyone else.
Because if history told me one thing, if Gavin wanted me around, he wouldn’t have cheated in the first place.
He wouldn’t have broken my heart.