Fragile Hearts

  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:

  VernaClay@VernaClay.com

  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

  Preface

  Part I

  1: Sexy Blue

  2: Home Away From Home

  3: Aquatics

  4: Coerced Coffee

  5: Candid Camera

  6: Reporting Back

  7: Triple Date

  8: Kaylee's Pity Party

  9: Paralympics

  10: Surprises

  11: Training Begins

  12: Whoa!

  13: Mean Girls

  14: No Visitors

  15: Good News and Bad News

  16: Shocking Surprise

  17: Hospital Visit

  18: More Hospital Visits

  Part II

  19: Hallway Surprise

  20: Aide Replacement

  21: Can We Be Friends?

  22: Guilt Trip

  23: Movies and Popcorn

  24: Restraint

  25: Pizza and Dumbbells

  26: Giving in

  27: Staying Aloof

  28: I Love Lucy

  29: Words Overheard

  30: Two Truths

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Candy Kisses (excerpt)

  Romance on the Ranch #4

  Christmas Kisses (excerpt)

  Romance on the Ranch #5

  Novels and Novellas by Verna Clay

  Preface

  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

  Part I

  Morgan

  The course of true love never did run smooth.

  --William Shakespeare

  1: 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 Nike
s 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."

  2: Home Away From Home

  I reach the gym without incident. I'm looking forward to water aerobics with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Before the accident I loved to swim. I'm relieved when the teacher says we won't get in the water today. For the next hour I listen
to the monotone voice of Mrs. Metcalf as she outlines safety precautions and the semester's activities.

  I leave the gym and easily locate Building G following Tyce's instructions. The teacher is nice, just like he said, but it doesn't change how much I hate the class. Speaking in front of people is something I can't do. I'm going to flunk this class.

  After we're dismissed, I'm emotionally exhausted. I push the lever on my wheelchair and propel it as fast as it will go toward my dorm. I'm on the ground floor in rooms specially designed for physically challenged students. I still can't believe my parents are making me live on campus. Our home's not that far away, and I thought I'd attend college via the internet, like I did high school.

  But then again, maybe I'm not surprised by my parents' decision. A couple of years ago they told me I needed to become independent of them. They made me get a driver's license after they had the family van converted so I could drive it. I fought them tooth and nail not to get the license, but they wouldn't back down. They said they won't always be around for me.

  After I got my license, I was glad. Once, however, I deviated from my usual route to the grocery store and ended up on a country road. It was in the spring and the desert was blooming. For a time I just enjoyed how pretty everything was, but then I had to pull over because of panic. The terrain had changed to farm land and the road suddenly reminded me of the one the accident had happened on. After that, I never deviated from my route again.

  I'm relieved when I reach the entrance to my dorm. I just want to disappear inside. I'm lucky because I don't have a roommate. The counselor told me I might have to share the room if another physically challenged girl enrolls and lives on campus. So far, there's only me and three other girls. We each have our own room. The opposite side of the dorm is for boys with challenges and there are six students there.

  I unlock my door and wheel inside. My cell phone vibrates and I reach in my pocket. It's my mom.