They say time heals all wounds, but sometimes it does just the opposite. The pain festers, seeping deep into your heart. By the time you’ve realized what happened, it’s too late and you’re left with a scar that will never go away.
I’ve spent the last year hiding my scars, running from the man who gave them to me. What I thought was love turned out to be a nightmare that won’t end, even though I forced myself awake. Love isn’t real. Love only leads to heartache.
And then I met him, the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Throw in some sexy confidence and a panty-melting grin, and you have the recipe for a broken heart. Only, my heart is becoming full again, being put back together piece by piece the more time we spend together.
I’ve been down this road before and know it’ll end in two ways: we’ll ride off in the sunset together and live happily ever after, or we’ll crash and burn so hard neither will survive the wreckage.
I want to be hopeful, but history is damned to repeat itself. And I have the scars to prove it.
