Fallen Hearts , livre ebook

FALLEN HEARTS


CISSY MECCA
To the readers who have followed me from Bridgewater to the Finger Lakes. Hope you enjoy Cedar Falls!
The Bachelor Pact Rules:
Never stay the night
Never date the neighbor
Never fall in love
Never say “I Do”
CONTENTS



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Epilogue


Bonus Scene

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Cissy Mecca

Love Notes

About Boldwood Books
1
PIA



Cedar Falls, Finger Lakes Region, NY
“Want your regular?”
The cashier didn’t even look up as a woman about my age approached the counter.
“Mmhmm,” the customer murmured, looking as if she was about to cry. As someone who cried at sappy commercials, among many other things, I could empathize.
Making a quick decision, I jumped up from my seat.
“I’ve got this,” I said to the woman. “You head to the ladies room.”
Although it was an odd offer from a stranger, she didn’t seem to mind. Swallowing hard and giving me a quick nod, she bolted in the direction of, I assumed, the ladies room. It was my first time in the place, new to town and all, so I knew very little about the Coffee Cabin or even Cedar Falls itself. Except that, as of last night, it was my new home.
When the cashier looked up—a college kid, from the looks of him—he appeared confused.
“I’ve got her coffee. And…” I didn’t need to look at the pastries again to know what I wanted. “A blueberry crumble muffin.”
Paying for both, I brought them to my corner seat and went back to people-watching. So far, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a cozy coffeehouse in a town even smaller than the one where I grew up. One I’d be seeing a lot of since my new apartment was just upstairs.
“Thank you so much,” the woman said when she returned, clearly unsure what to do.
“Join me,” I offered. “Got a muffin top.”
She looked a bit like that actress from the funny movie with Ryan Reynolds. What the heck was the name of it? Ugh, how could someone be so bad at remembering names?
“You look like someone,” I started, about to explain the movie.
“Emma Stone.”
“That’s it. I guess you get that all the time?”
“I do. But I take it as a compliment, so thank you.”
I would too. Emma Stone, and my companion, were both extremely pretty. Red hair in a long bob and a smattering of freckles across her cheek, just like me. It was rare to meet someone with freckles. We also shared unusually bright eyes, hers green and mine blue. I wondered if it meant anything? Like maybe we were destined to be friends?
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“And thank you for the coffee.”
“My pleasure. Please help yourself to the muffin. It looks too good not to eat.”
“Oh, they’re good, alright. Deadly so. Try some.”
I helped myself and silently agreed. This would be dangerous. I’d have to limit myself to one a week or special occasions or something. Sweet treats were my downfall.
“I appreciate the rescue. Delaney,” she said, offering her hand.
“Pia.” I shook it, smiling.
“Passing through?” she asked.
“Actually, no. I just moved here. I’m renting the apartment upstairs.” I motioned above us. “Got here last night from Oregon.”
“Oh wow. You must be exhausted. Welcome to Cedar Falls.”
“Thanks. So you live here?”
“I do. Born and raised. Although I just came back to town myself after a few-year hiatus.” Delaney took a sip of coffee, looking over the rim sheepishly. “Sorry about the waterworks.”
Clearly she’d been crying, but I hadn’t planned to mention it.
“No apologies necessary,” I said. “No one is a bigger crier than me. Though I definitely don’t look that good after a cry. More power to you.”
Delaney laughed. “I don’t believe you. The guys in town are going to lose their minds. We haven’t had anyone new to Cedar Falls as pretty as you… ever.”
“Stop,” I said, never able to take a compliment well. I’d gotten comments on my dark hair and clear blue eyes my whole life. But it wasn’t like I’d done anything to earn it, so I was never sure what to say. I supposed “thank you” would suffice, but somehow I never managed to say the words.
“Although, fair warning. There are more than a few heartbreakers out there.”
Ahh, so that was the source of the waterworks. “Breakup?”
“Yup. Five months hot and heavy, and boom. Just like that, he goes back to the ex. I feel silly. Five months isn’t very long, I know. But I liked him. A lot. He was a commitment phobe, and in the worst twist of fate, mutual friends of ours say he’s planning to propose.”
Breaking off a piece of muffin, I prepared to do one of the things I did best.
Overshare.
“I get it, trust me. Last year I dated a guy for the summer. Knew it wouldn’t last since he was only there for a seasonal job. But the fact that we were never on a collision course for a long-term relationship didn’t seem to matter to my traitorous heart. There was something about him that I connected with, almost from the start. An attraction, of course, but something else I could never quite put my finger on. Getting to know him was one of the easiest and most fun few months of my life.”
“Why do you think that was?”
I’d asked myself that so many times. “I’m not sure, to be honest. We just clicked. Our chemistry was off the charts. I told him things I’d never shared with another living soul, trusting him completely even knowing it was a dangerous thing to do.”
“So what happened?”
The pang in my chest at the thought of having lost a man I’d been convinced would play a role in my life, even though I knew from the beginning such a thing was impossible, never dulled when I thought of him.
“He left. We tried for a long time just to be friends, which worked for him, but never for me. I know he really liked me, and enjoyed getting to know me too, but only one of us caught feelings. Turns out, it’s really fucking hard to be friends with someone you could envision waking up to every day. Who you’d have given everything to be with.”
“You were willing to move for him?”
“I was. But he wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. So I know a thing or two about commitment phobes and do my best to avoid them.” I remembered why I was telling this gut-wrenching story, one that I’d worked for so long to forget. “There were days I questioned everything. How I felt about him, how disappointed I was in myself for taking too long to let go. Aside from losing my grandparents, it was honestly the most difficult period of my life. One I never saw coming.” And finally, my point. “But I eventually got over it. And you will too. I promise.”
Delaney reached across the table, tears in her eyes once again, and smiled in a way that erased any doubt. We weren’t going to be friends.
We already were.
“Thank you for sharing that with me.”
It should have felt odd to squeeze a stranger’s hand, but it didn’t. I truly believed there were no such things as coincidences, and the two of us were meant to be in this coffeehouse together today.
“My pleasure.”
Letting go of my hand, she took a deep steadying breath. “So tell me how you ended up here in this little corner of the world.”
“Well,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. “I was hired as the new manager of a struggling inn. The owner seems like a great guy who I can’t wait to meet in person on Monday when I start.”
“What’s the name of the inn? Who’s the guy?” Delaney smiled wryly. “Trust me, if it’s in or around Cedar Falls, I’ll know him.”
“Heritage Hill,” I said as a vision of the beautiful, if older-looking inn popped into my head. “The owner’s name is⁠—”
“Thomas Bennett.”
The way she said his name sent a shiver down my back. “What is it?” I asked, knowing without a doubt something was wrong.
“Oh, Pia,” she said, as if feeling really sorry for me. “Thomas Bennett is dead.”
2
MASON

What does a person do the day after they bury their father?
I wandered from my old bedroom at the inn where I grew up down to the kitchen. Esther, the elderly woman Dad had hired a few years ago to cook breakfast when he decided to start marketing Heritage Hill as a B&B, used the second kitchen Dad had added to the expanded part of the inn. This one, in the original house, was used only by my father and me. It was strange to walk into the kitchen without a pot of coffee brewing, courtesy of Dad.
It was even stranger to imagine not seeing my father walk through the door saying, “Mason, get up to the Heather room and see about unsticking the window.”
Just as the coffee began to brew, a different voice filled the room.
“How you doing?”
Beck had stayed the night, along with a few other of my close friends.
“Alright,” I said, reaching into the cabinet for two mugs. “Black, right?”
“Yep.”
Only the sound of coffee brewing broke the silence. With someone you’d met in kindergarten, there wasn’t always a need to talk. A few minutes later, I slid my friend a mug and sat across from him at the kitchen island.
“How many years has death been a part of my life?” I asked, not really expecting an answer. “But it still doesn’t prepare you.”
“Yeah, but we’re not talking about terrorists or criminals. This is family. Hits different.”
The only close family I had left. “True.”
More silence. Some of those deaths Beck mentioned flashed through my mind. Eight years as an Army Ranger and four with the NYPD still hadn’t prepared me for when I walked into the morgue and saw Dad lying on that cold metal table.
A fucking heart attack. Sure, he’d eaten his share of