Heart Unbroken Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  More from Andrew Grey

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  Copyright

  Heart Unbroken

  By Andrew Grey

  A Hearts Entwined Novel

  Car restorer Dean Milford knows how to make damaged things beautiful again. Only, after a bad breakup, he loses sight of who he is, playing the field and distracting himself with any man he comes across. But now there’s only one guy who really matters to him. And maybe with his latest restoration job—a vintage Cobra—he’ll get the chance to let him know.

  Losing his sight wasn’t the worst thing to happen to Lee Studer—losing his independence was. It’s taken a while, but he’s finally found his place in the world—in a garage. Funny enough, his acute hearing allows him to pinpoint engine problems just by listening. And even better, he’s going to have a chance to help his long-time crush, Dean, rebuild his fantasy car.

  As the restoration comes together, so do Lee and Dean, building a friendship that quickly turns into so much more. But before they can think about a future together, they have to deal with the past. Only that turns out to be more dangerous than either one ever dreamed….

  To Dominic. I love him more than I can possibly say.

  Chapter 1

  DEAN MILFORD sat at a table against the wall of Club Marquee in Milwaukee’s Third Ward bar district, waiting for his best friends, Brent and Trevor. His foot tapped to the constant drumming of the music, not because he particularly liked it but because it had been months since he’d had a night out with the guys. Over the last couple of years, both Trevor and Brent had found guys who made their hearts go pitter-pat, so Dean had been the odd man out more and more frequently.

  He lifted his beer and took a drink, then sighed softly. Dean lifted his gaze to the largely unoccupied dance floor, where four guys moved to the music, one of them a hot, lithe little number in jeans that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. If this were a cartoon, Dean’s eyes would have beat back and forth like a metronome attuned to the gyrations of his perfect globed butt. The guy he was with couldn’t seem to find the beat no matter how hard he tried, and Dean thought about getting up and showing him how it was done. A guy who couldn’t move on the dance floor probably couldn’t move in the bedroom either, Dean thought, his lip curling. Hot Stuff shuffled closer to his companion, slowing him down as he placed his hands on his hips, moving his lips closer to the guy’s ear. And then their heads rested on each other’s shoulders and the dissonance between them disappeared.

  Dean turned away with a growly huff under his breath. The two of them were in lurve, and it was all Dean could do not to roll his eyes and stomp out of the damned place. Love was the bane of his existence. And hell, it probably didn’t fucking exist. Not really. Dean thought he had found love, the big kind with a bright future and a happily-ever-after. But it had been just an illusion, and reality, at least for him, was just a gut ball of hurt.

  He drank some more beer and turned toward the door, checking the time on his phone before allowing his gaze to wander to the bartender, who was hot as hell in a completely different way from the guy on the dance floor. The bartender’s black T-shirt was so tight, it looked like it might split apart at the seams any second. Dean had talked to Marvin a few times. He used to be one of the bouncers here, but it looked like he’d moved up in the world and was now tending bar. Dean tried to remember how long that had been and couldn’t. The weeks and months ran together.

  Brent entered the front door of the club, looked around, and then nodded, coming right over to the table. Dean stood and hugged him. “Trevor is out front trying to find place to park his car,” Brent explained as he gave the club a cursory look and then sat down. “God, this place hasn’t changed at all.” There was something in the way Brent said it that rubbed Dean the wrong way, making him feel out of place. Brent and Trevor were some of his closest friends, but now it was as if he had less of a connection with them. It sucked to realize that he was an outsider with the people he considered family.

  “I like it here,” Dean countered. At least he belonged here.

  Brent shook his head and shrugged, but didn’t say anything more. Dean wanted to press Brent about his statement and the condescension in his voice, but he was saved by Trevor’s appearance in the doorway and the resulting ripple through the people inside. Trevor turned heads wherever he went, and tonight was no different. A few guys actually made their way over toward the door, circling Trevor like birds of prey, wondering how to make their move.

  Dean and Trevor hugged, and Trevor sat at the table, seemingly oblivious to the minor stir that he’d just caused. “It’s been a while. What have you been doing?” Trevor asked. Trevor and Brent saw each other all the time now that Brent was working for Trevor, managing one of his auto repair garages. But Dean wasn’t really a part of their lives anymore. The three of them used to be as close as brothers, but in the last few years, things had changed. Trevor had met James, the love of his life, and Brent had finally made his move with Scott, after an accident had cost Scott his hearing. That had left Dean as the only one of them unattached. Not that Dean had any intention of going down that road again. He was still dealing with the fallout from his last romantic relationship, even after three years. He wasn’t sure his heart or his sanity could take it again.

  “Let me see.” Dean smiled. “A couple months ago, I got a line on a ’63 Cobra. It was just a nibble, but I followed it up. The car was in a barn outside Port Washington and had probably been there for close to thirty years. The rubber on the tires had turned to goo and stuff like that.” He leaned closer to the guys now that he had their undivided attention. “The owner’s name is Helen, and it was her husband’s car. He bought it new, and after he died, she didn’t know what to do with it. Helen wasn’t going to drive it, but she didn’t feel right selling it either, so it just sat in the garage, all those years, under a cover.”

  Trevor and Brent shared a look. “Did you buy it?” Trevor asked.

  Dean bit his lower lip. “Yeah, I did. She had done her research and knew the car was valuable, but she was also reasonable and realized that it was going to take a lot of work, including bringing in a flatbed to get the car out of the garage. So she let me have it for a good price, as long as I promised to fix it up.” Dean could barely keep his butt on his chair. “I showed her before and after pictures of the cars I had done, and I think that sealed the deal for her.”

  Trevor patted him on the back, a hint of jealousy in his eyes. “Good for you. That’s a real find. I know it will turn out amazing—you do exceptional work.”

  “Thanks,” Dean said, a little surprised at how much he needed the compliment. Business had been tough, his friends seemed to be growing away from him, and even the guys at the clubs, his refuge, weren’t as interested. What was left of his self-esteem had been taking a beating.

  “I can’t wait to see it,” Brent added. “What kind of shape is it in, other than the expected deterioration?”

  “The engine is intact but will need a complete overhaul, and the body is in one piece. That alone is worth the price I paid. The seats and interior are shot, but the structure of the car is really good.” Dean could hardly wait to start fixing the car up. Unfortunately….

  “What’s the issue?” Trevor asked. He always se
emed to be able to get to the heart of the matter where Dean was concerned.

  “Who said there was an issue?” Dean challenged. He resented his friends for immediately thinking there was something wrong, as if he wasn’t as good as they were.

  “Dean,” Trevor said as he motioned to one of the cocktail waiters, who made his way over. “I’d like a martini, and Brent here is going to have a vodka tonic. Please bring another beer for Dean as well,” he ordered.

  The server hurried off like God had just spoken to him. Dean wondered how Trevor did that and what sort of magic he had to charm every guy he came across.

  Trevor turned his attention back to Dean. “I’ve known you for years, and a car like that is going to take some serious bucks to restore. You do amazing work, and I understand you wanting to work for yourself, but….”

  “Trevor…,” Dean cautioned, hating to admit that in his excitement over the Cobra, he might have financially taken on more than he could handle, especially now that his dad had retired. Trevor had offered him a job in the past, but Dean liked being able to do his own thing. His passion wasn’t repairing cars, like Trevor, but bringing them back to life and restoring them to their original condition. “This is supposed to be a fun night out, not a business meeting.”

  Both Trevor and Brent shared a look of doubt, and maybe worry.

  “Why don’t we dance?” Dean suggested.

  “Because James isn’t here, and neither is Scott.” Trevor paused as the server brought their drinks. He paid in cash, with a nice tip.

  “If you need anything else….” The server smiled and stood still for a few seconds, clearly expecting some sort of offer, or at least a comment on his cuteness, but Trevor had already turned away.

  Damn, Trevor really had changed. Just a few years earlier, Trevor would have flirted at the very least, and probably have arranged to take the guy home. Dean, on the other hand, wouldn’t have minded seeing what Waiter Boy had under that tight shirt and jeans, but when Dean met his gaze, the younger man turned away as if Dean barely existed. That was becoming more and more common lately. Maybe he had to check out some different places, meet new people.

  “I don’t spend my evenings in bars and clubs any longer,” Trevor said. “After work, I go home to James.”

  Dean huffed. “Yeah, I know. You have your dinner parties and weekends with the family.” Why was he being so pissy? Trevor and James were happy. There was nothing wrong with that.

  “God,” Brent whispered under his breath.

  “Don’t mind me. Things have been difficult lately.” Dean drained his beer and picked up the one Trevor had ordered for him.

  “What’s really going on?” Trevor pressed. “You’ve been morose and sullen for weeks.”

  Dean wished he had an answer. Life just sucked right now. “Fine. I don’t have the resources to fix up the Cobra, I haven’t been out with anyone in weeks, and most of the guys in the clubs look at me like I’m a washed-up, grumpy old man.” God, he sounded like an old man too. What the hell had happened to him? He was many things, but not a fucking whiner.

  “I can’t help you with the old man part, but if you drop by the office tomorrow, maybe we can figure something out.”

  “I don’t want to work in the garage,” Dean said. “I’m not interested in that.”

  Trevor set down his glass. “What are you interested in? Man, you and I have been friends for years, but you act like we’re still twenty-two years old. We’re not.”

  “Yeah, maybe not, but you can’t tell me that you aren’t at least a little interested in all that.” Dean motioned to the floor, where dozens of guys were bumping, grinding, and moving together in a near orgy. They were hot, young, and vibrant, with enough energy to keep going all night long. The electricity in the place increased by the second, and Dean momentarily plugged into it, letting it wind around his spirit and take him along for the ride.

  Rather than talking, Dean slid out of his chair and headed to the floor. He purposely didn’t turn around as he sauntered up to one of the guys standing near the edge, moving to the music. He was tall and wiry, with a head of curly blond locks and huge blue eyes.

  The guy watched Dean intently, then stepped closer to the guys near him. “That old guy is coming over,” Dean read on his lips, and he slipped behind the others. Dean pretended to notice someone behind the kid and continued on, ignoring him and his comment, but the wind had gone from his sails. He walked through the crowd to the bathroom, where he made use of the facilities, ignoring what was going on in the stalls, then washed his hands and turned to leave.

  “Struck out?” Brent asked when he returned to the table.

  Dean had to stop himself as a surge of testosterone-fueled anger dared him to punch Brent square in the face.

  “Hey, man, don’t take it out on me.”

  “Brent, Dean, calm down,” Trevor said calmly. “What happened?”

  “Damned kids. He’s probably too young to be in here anyway,” Dean grumbled. He was thirty-three, and that wasn’t old. At least Dean didn’t see himself that way. But obviously other people did. He was still fit and took care of himself. Sure, there were a few more lines around his eyes, but he had a great smile and probably needed to show it more.

  Trevor leaned back in his chair, finishing his drink. “Let’s get the hell out of here. There’s a great new Mexican fusion place just up the road a few blocks. I helped the owners out a few months ago, so I can probably get us a table.” He set down his glass. “I’m hungry, and James is teaching a class tonight. What do you say? At least there we could talk without having to shout.”

  Dean laughed. “God, are you getting old.” He reached over, grinning a second. “Is that gray in your hair?”

  Trevor batted away his hand. “Maybe one or two strands. I told James about it, and he shrugged and said, ‘I don’t see any.’”

  “Of course he did. James is blind, both literally and to all your imperfections,” Dean argued. This was becoming a stupid conversation.

  “Yeah, and he doesn’t care what I look like. He only cares about who I am.” Trevor stood. “You need to find someone who cares for you the same way. And it isn’t any of the guys in this place.” Trevor pulled out his phone to make a call. By the time he hung up, he had a table for them at the restaurant and was practically herding them to the door.

  “When did he get so pushy?” Dean asked Brent. “I think we’re getting the bum’s rush.”

  Brent leaned close as if he was going to share a secret. “He wants to talk to you—we both do.”

  Great, just what he needed. Dean thought of begging off and going home for a second, but what was he going to do then? No. These were his friends and they cared about him. Dean took a deep breath to let go of his anger. Brent and Trevor cared enough to take an interest. Dean should hold on to that, rather than being a jerk. He thought for a second about going to another club. But he needed to face it: he was in a rut, and he needed to change his luck. Besides, he was hungry… and broke, if he were truthful. And a night spent drinking was not going to help his money problems or anything else. What he needed were his friends. And he should be acting like a friend in return, instead of letting his frustration with his own life get the better of him.

  Dean followed the guys out into the night, the music retreating and falling off by the time he reached his car. “The restaurant is a couple blocks that way.” Trevor pointed south. “I’ll meet you there. We have a table in half an hour. James just messaged that his class is out, so I’m going to pick him up and will be right back.” Trevor slipped into his convertible and whipped out of his parking space.

  “Why in the hell does he have to act so damned perky all the time?” Dean asked as he watched Trevor go, his gut churning.

  “Because he is,” Brent answered. “Trevor is deliriously happy. He loves his job, and he goes home every night to James. They have a wonderful life, and they’re content.” Brent turned away from Dean. “And maybe the reason you’re
so sullen and broody is because you aren’t satisfied with how things are. I know you like to put on that ‘I’m having all the sex I want and can have any guy I see’ front, but you aren’t happy.” Brent took a step closer. “My guess is that you’re tired of this whole clubbing, ‘different guy whenever I can get one’ sort of life. You sure act like you are.”

  Dean ground his teeth together. “What I’m tired of is everything changing all the fucking time. The three of us used to have a great time together. We went out, met guys, and had one another’s backs for years. Now I’m lucky if I get to see you every few months, and only then if I make a damned appointment.” He took a mental step back. “I guess I’m feeling left out and alone.” God, why had that been so hard to say?

  “Well, we have lives. I’m sorry if you feel that way, but Trevor has James and I have Scott, and our lives have taken different paths. You have to remember back to when you were with Dumbfuck Chuck. The two of you did your own thing.”

  “Yeah, and look what happened? Dumbfuck cut me off from everyone, using our relationship as a way to isolate me. He was obsessive, controlling, and then the damned shit cheated on me.” Dean hated thinking about how messed up things had gotten. That experience still colored so much of his life.

  “And you think James is doing that with Trevor, or Scott with me?” Brent raised his eyebrows. “We just have lives, but they don’t include going out to places like this one.” He motioned back to the club as two guys stumbled out, one of them just making it to the curb before puking in the storm drain. “I’m thirty-four, and Trevor is a little older. We aren’t kids anymore, and we wanted to build real lives.” Brent tugged Dean toward his car. “Leave yours here. I think you’ve had more than enough to drink already. Some food and a little time will make you feel better.”

  Dean got into the passenger seat of Brent’s Corolla and put his head back. “Maybe it’s the alcohol that has me feeling this way.”