Toby Wright has always prided himself on being one of the most normal guys at Whitman University. He loves his parents, has a great job lined up after graduation, and with the exception of attempting to cross the unbalanced Sebastian Blair sophomore year, has kept his nose pretty clean.
But the rich never have empty closets, and memories long stashed away come spilling free when notorious party girl Kennedy Gilbert almost dies in his bathroom.
Nobody really knows how Kennedy manages to stay in good standing at Whitman–she never goes to class, doesn’t pretend to care about her future, and as far as people can tell, is never sober. This isn’t her first meeting with a stomach pump, but it is the first time she’s woken up to Toby’s concerned brown eyes. Despite the fact that she prefers life without friends, he gets under her skin with his insistence on playing her guardian angel.
No one knows better than Toby that people can only be saved if they want to be, but the realization that she has no one else draws him back into the shadows of Kennedy’s life–and eventually into her bed. But she long ago came to terms with a truth that Toby refuses to accept: she doesn’t want to be rescued, she only wants to forget.
Unwilling to give up on her, Toby’s dragged under by this broken girl and her dark, twisted Whitman University he never guessed existed. If he struggles to the surface, he’ll abandon someone he loves for the second time in his life. If he doesn’t, it won’t be long until they both drown
EXCERPT
If she was nervous, she didn’t show it, but her smile didn’t go near her eyes. They were blank, staring toward me but not at me.
“I’m Kennedy. I’m here because Dr. Porter bribed me.”
“Kennedy,” he sighed. “Please.”
I’d never heard him sound so exasperated. I was impressed. Also envious.
“Fine. My family died in a car accident when I was twelve.”
Dr. Porter moved on, ignoring the fact that she hadn’t said much of anything. My eyes stayed on her face, which relaxed as soon as the attention shifted back to our shrink. When she caught me staring, the expression in her gaze shifted, slicing straight through my bones. It was like she wanted to speak but had been gagged. As though whatever it was had been buried so deep she didn’t have a clue how to reach it.
The group ended after an hour. Dr. Porter had done most of the talking, but promised that with each session he hoped everyone would get comfortable enough with one another to share more of our personal journeys. The homework was a typical request to start a journal—I’d always gotten out of that particular emo assignment because my writing worked.
The kids moved but didn’t make for the door, content to wander and talk to one another. A table of snacks at the back of the room attracted them like flies, and I hung back, sneaking a brownie after most of them had slunk off into groups.
Kennedy appeared at my elbow, the fresh scent of her like crawling into my bed at home after a semester at school. “Of all the support groups in all the halfway houses in all the world…you walk into mine.”
“Careful. Quoting Casablanca is known to cause spontaneous feelings in movie buffs worldwide.”
“Mea culpa, Wright. We wouldn’t want that.”
She grabbed a cookie off the platter, her fingernails dirty as they broke off a chunk and shoved it in her mouth. Kennedy wore a pair of white shorts and a Whitman baseball jersey that appeared to be at least three sizes too big. I had no desire to find out where she’d filched it.
We drifted into the hallway and toward the front porch as though we’d discussed it beforehand, and when the cool spring air shifted around us, we both stopped. Twilight hung over Florida. The sun had set but the sky hadn’t given up its blues and violets for black just yet. It was too early for most of the flowers to make an appearance, but the trees and bushes pushed buds of green into the world, waiting for April to coax them to life. It was peaceful, and not too hot—the perfect night to sit outside in Florida.
I realized that I had missed talking to her—the peculiar and random banter, the way her full lips quirked a smile, and most of all, the way I felt when she looked at me. Like it might be possible to be as comfortable with someone else as I was alone.
“So how did Porter talk you into coming tonight?” She asked, swallowing the last bite of dough and chocolate chips.
“I don’t know. I like the idea of helping kids, I think.”
“I think you like the idea of helping people, period.”
“You’ve got me figured out now, do you? Ever since you stuffed me in that box?”
Her lips pulled down into a frown. “You have trouble staying put, Wright. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“I’m sure.” I polished off my brownie and brushed the remnants off my hands, sitting down on the crumbling concrete porch. I patted a level spot beside me. Kennedy hesitated for a split second, the way she had when I’d invited her to take on the slopes that last day in St. Moritz, but then plopped down, leaving a few inches between us.
“How did Porter talk you into coming tonight?”
She shot me a grin. “He said it would take the place of two private sessions.”
“You hate them?”
“I’ve been seeing one shrink or another once a week since I was in ninth grade. I don’t hate it, but it doesn’t do any good. It’s a waste of time.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that therapy only worked if the patient wanted it to, and that maybe she should give it a chance. In a weird way, this was a chance to correct the mistakes I’d made with Trent, though—being bossy, acting as though I knew the best thing for him—and it might mean keeping my mouth shut to avoid pushing Kennedy away. So I did.
“You’re thinking that it’s a waste of time because I don’t make the best of it.”
Surprise made my eyebrows reach for my hairline. Her keen eyes peered into mine, confident in her assessment. “How did you do that?”
“Practice. And you’re right. I know it’s true.”
Her frankness surprised me. Not that Kennedy was inclined to lie—if anything, she was overly blunt—but she was a master at avoiding topics she’d rather not discuss.
“So why keep going?”
“I guess I could have stopped on my eighteenth birthday, which was just last fall. DFS forced my grandmother to send me after an…incident when I was fourteen. It’s kind of like, comfort in the familiar, maybe.”
She scooted closer to me so that a couple of kids could get past. We sat in silence, not touching but close enough to share heat, until they disappeared into the deepening dark. The brief statement had revealed more of her to me, and it felt like a gift in my palm—one I still wasn’t sure I wanted to open. Did I want to know what had happened when she was fourteen, or why her grandmother had to be cajoled into sending a child who’d lost her entire family to therapy?
My hand snuck over to hers, locking our pinky fingers together, before I could decide. She looked at me, an indecipherable expression on her face. “Acquaintances, Wright. Remember?”
But she didn’t pull away.
“Well, friends hold hands. Previous sexual partners who acknowledge each other in public link pinky fingers.”
“Is that so? How has this escaped my attention all of these years?”
“I don’t know, but I’m glad to educate you.”
About Lyla Payne:
I’ve long had a love of stories. A few years ago decided to put them down on the page, and even though I have a degree in film and television, novels were the creative outlet where I found a home. I’ve published Young Adult under a different name, but when I got the idea for Broken at Love (my first New Adult title), I couldn’t wait to try something new – and I’m hooked. In my spare time I watch a ton of tennis (no surprise, there), play a ton of tennis, and dedicate a good portion of brain power to dreaming up the next fictitious bad boy we’d all love to meet in real life.
Links:
Website: http://lylapayne.blogspot.com
Twitter: @lyla_payne
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This book is told from the male, Toby's POV.
The first couple times when Toby see's Kennedy I just want him to run for the hills. Kennedy is a lot to handle or even a lot to read about - she is the true definition of "Train Wreck". I feel sorry for Kennedy as I find out all she went through but it's just hard to watch (and read) when someone doesn't want to help themselves and it on a self destruction course. Toby appears to have it all but underneath he has his own issues. He is able to put those aside for Kennedy and will fight for her. But eventually you can fight for someone who doesn't want you. Lots of hot sex. Fabulous ending!
Emilie & Quinn from "Broken at Love" are throughout this book and a few sighting of Ruby & Cole from "By Referral Only".
1 comment:
i havent read this series yet but i intend to
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