Broken Glamour by Maggie Marr

Author:Maggie Marr [Marr, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC027240 FICTION / Romance / New Adult; FIC027020 FICTION / Romance / Contemporary; FIC044000 FICTION / Contemporary Women
Publisher: NLA Digital LLC
Published: 2014-04-21T04:00:00+00:00

Ryan

Adrenaline coursed through my body. My heartbeat pounded and blood rushed through me. I yanked the kettlebell up over my head then went back down to the floor. Workouts were getting easier. The tight aches and weakness in my body were fading but the scars along my arms were still fresh and pink. The scars would always be there, both the scars I could see and the scars I couldn’t. Sweat dripped down my temple. I couldn’t get drunk, but I could fucking chase the demons away with hard exercise.

“Hey, man.”

Dillon’s image reflected in the mirror. I jerked my chin toward him and finished my set. He’d been away in Vancouver for a few days, shooting.

“Seems like I haven't seen you in forever.” He jumped on the treadmill to warm up.

“That's what happens when you're a big action star,” I said. The corners of my mouth twitched up into a smile. “You’re gone all the time and even when you’re here you’re on set and no one but Lane sees you.”

He nodded. His feet pounded the treadmill. “You feeling good?”

“Better,” I said. I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from my face.

“You’re looking better,” he said. Old school AC/DC blared from the speakers. His pace quickened. We had the same trainer. A mean SOB who kept Dillon in shape and who was getting me back into condition. I sat on the rowing machine and began to pull.

“How’s the sober thing going?” Dillon asked. He’d finished his warm-up run and stood beside me with a kettlebell in his hand.

“Man, I won’t bullshit you,” I said between breaths. “Sometimes it’s easy, and other times it’s like fucking chewing nails.” I shook my head. “I haven’t figured out what causes either.”

“You’ll get it,” Dillon said. He walked back and stood in front of the mirror. He yanked the kettlebell upward. “How the hell did you convince Amanda to be your sober companion?” Dillon asked.

“She needed the job.”

“But after the wedding? And the shit from her father? She must seriously want that internship in New York City,” Dillon said.

I stopped rowing. Heat rose in my chest. I wasn’t the same guy I’d been at the wedding, and before the accident. The anger I felt right now wasn’t really meant for Dillon, the heat that pulsed through me was meant for me. Lately, anger had been a constant companion for me when I thought about what I’d done in my past, before I got sober. The fucked-up me had done some pretty shady shit that hurt a lot of people and now the sober me, the guy I was now, had to go around and apologize for all that bullshit and try to keep the drunk from ever reappearing.

As my memories from my past began to come back, the shit I’d done when I was drunk and stoned appalled me. But I was the same fucking guy. That could drive me nuts—the idea that I could have both people living in my brain. The

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