π₯ πππππππ ππππππ β Mended Hearts (Broken & Mended Series Book 2) by Erika Ashby is releasing 10.25! Check out the #PrologueToday and #PreOrder
Title: Mended Hearts
Series: Broken & Mended Series Book 2
Author: Erika Ashby
Genre/Tropes: Contemporary; Military Romance
Release Date: October 25, 2024
Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers

Prologue
Dustin
May 2014
ITβS BEEN A long time since Iβve had a reason to wear anything other than fatigues. I think my brother being honored with an award tonight is just the right reason to do so. Being transferred to a different unit before getting sent back overseas for another tour gives me a very small window of opportunity to make this surprise happen. Soooo small that my mother couldnβt grasp the idea of why I needed her to bring my dress suit here instead of me flying home first and making the five-hour car ride with them.
Because that sounds delightful. The thought alone causes me to shudder.
Iβve been avoiding my hometown like the plague since I left thirteen years ago. Iβve also been avoiding my parents and anyone else who reminds me of that godforsaken town. Including Daxβthe one person I regret pushing away. But the truth is, if I could go back in time and redirect my trajectory, I wouldnβt. My distance is safer for the few people I care for. Truth be told, I shut my heart off a long time agoβ¦ because itβs safer for me that way. Self-preservation at its finest.
Droplets of water cascade down my body as I stand at the counter, examining my face in the mirror as I contemplate shaving off the scruff. My better judgment gets the best of me, and I decide to keep the light stubble shading my face. No need to pretty myself up just to get dumped in a sandy land far, far away in a few days. A knock on the hotel door causes my body to tense. My feet instantly feel heavy with dread. I groan, walking toward the door. I already regret being here. The idea to sneak out the window crosses my mind, but I remind myself Iβm doing this for Daxβ¦ and Iβm on the third floor. I let out an exasperated breath that borderlines a growl and grab for the handle. The door swings open and I tighten my jaw as my mother barrels in with zero cares for oneβs personal space. She tosses my freshly pressed dress suit to the side and misses the bed, stretching her arms wide for a hug.
βMy suit.β I narrow my eyes and snap, pivoting away from her embrace. I know she has no regard for the Army and loathes that I joined it, but damn, a little respect would be nice. I walk over to the open closet and drape the hook of the hanger over the top so my suit rests flush with the door. She begins to stammer as if she canβt collect the right words to form her thoughts, and I glance back toward her. My stomach drops with regret, and Iβm reminded why I keep my feelings turned to nonexistent. All of a sudden, Iβm a teenager again, wanting to console my mother. But I donβt. Thirteen years of residual anger have a way of keeping one callous.
βSo many scars,β she whispers, staring at me with a mix of horror and sadness. I grasp where my towel connects around my waist, wishing I had thrown a shirt on. I didnβt sign up for a pity party.
βItβs not that bad, Ma,β I admit, knowing she canβt see the biggest scar of allβthe one she had a part in.
She glances up with a hint of a smile. βYou havenβt called me Ma in so long.β And just like that, all traces of a smile fade, covered with sadness. Enough of this jog down memory lane. I need to get ready and flip her mood around. I refuse to show up to Daxβs award ceremony with this sour puss in tow.
I close the distance between us and grasp her shoulder, causing her to look up at me. βRemember why weβre here.β I slightly tighten my grip to reassure her and drive my point in simultaneously.
βDax.β
βYes, Dax,β I repeat. βNow let me get dressed.β I offer a weak smile before placing a quick kiss on her forehead. Iβm not above offering a sacrifice every now and again.
She regains her composureβas if nothing happenedβjust like she has all my life, and says, βIβll go wait in the car with your dad.β
I lock the door behind her for safe measure and walk to the closet, then pull the plastic covering my suit. I take in the deep blue jacket and all its adornments that donβt mean squat to me. I donβt do what I do for badges or for show. I quit caring about participation awards after the last one I got my senior year in high school. But damn if I donβt take pride in it or give respect to the other men and women proudly wearing them.
A knock at the door shakes me out of my stupor, and I cautiously walk over and peek out the peephole. Flipping the lock, I open the door halfway.
βYour mother forgot to bring up your shoes.β My dad offers, holding my shoes out. βI even looked up how to shine them for you.β He lets out a chuckle, brushing his hand through his hair, and I take in how weathered he looks.
In what feels like forever, I genuinely smile. βThanks, Dad,β I say, inspecting my pristine black dress shoes. Impressed is an understatement.
A hand clamps on my bare shoulder and my smile falters as I peek up, barely meeting my dadβs gaze. A gaze that feels so distant with mere inches between us. A lump forms in my throat, and I slowly push it down, trying not to make it visible. Iβm responsible for the distance.
βItβs good to see you, son.β My dad nods, holding my view. His fingers curl into my shoulder in the same manner mine had just done to my mom, and I nod back in agreement and understanding.
THE DRIVE STARTS off abnormally quiet. So quiet I wish Dax were riding back here with me like when we were younger. Thereβs no way the ride would be silent if he were with us. Iβm not sure if that word exists in his vocabulary. My mom finally starts talking, my dad nodding, and I stare out my window. Just like old times. I keep my fly on the wall stance and listen. Okay, well, listened. Once she began complaining about my brotherβs current situation and seeming to insinuate Lincolnβs widow is holding him back from the life heβs destined to live, I began tuning her out.
After all these years, she still hasnβt changed. News flash, Maβ¦ I have.
Ten minutes later, we pull in, and I thank God. Then take it back, knowing thereβs nothing to thank him for. He left me high and dry when I needed him the most. Instead, I thank myself for not losing my shit on my mom during the short car ride here. Stepping out of the car, I breathe out a sigh of relief as if I were holding my breath the entire drive. Iβm used to the heat, but right now, Iβm feeling overheated. I rub the back of my neck, checking for sweat, relieved when my hand returns dry.
Nerves, it must be nerves. But why? To see my brother? The one I walked out on and never turned back even for a second glance? Yeah, that one. And yes, definitely nerves.
βShit,β I mumble, rolling my shoulders back, trying to gain my composureβsomething I typically never lose. I glance over and catch my fatherβs eyes watching me intently. I see the worry in his brow, but thankfully, he doesnβt say anything. Itβs a little too late for those kinds of talks. Thirteen years, to be exact. I bend over, double-checking my shoelaces, and grab the penny partially sticking out from under the car. Itβs on heads.
We begin walking across the parking lot, and I fall behind, following my parents. I donβt want to lead, nor do I want to present a united front. Through the years, my mom has been good at keeping me informed about Dax, something Iβve always appreciated. Despite what she may believe, Iβve read all the letters sheβs sent me. There have even been times Iβve sat down to write a reply, but the words remained tethered, never leaving the tip of my pen.
Five steps up, and weβre walking through the double doors. There are more people here than I was expecting, but I canβt take my eyes off the huge fountain directly in front of us. I walk to it, leaving my parents at the registration table while I examine the foliage-covered stone. A lone quarter in the middle of the water beckons me.
βWhy not,β I mutter, reaching in my pocket for the penny I just found, and flip it in.
βDustin, this is not a wishing well,β my mom chastises as she sidles up next to me.
I shrug. βI beg to differ. There was already a coin in it.β I point.
I can sense her eye rolling. Sometimes I wonder how hers havenβt completely flipped upside down from the number of times I caused that action growing up.
βCome on.β She tugs my arm. βYour brother is down here.β
Again, I fall behind, following. As we approach, Daxβs back is to us, and heβs laughing with others around him. I stop short and use the time to take in my baby brother, who is far from a baby now. Seeing him, in his dress suit, same as mine, ignites a sense of pride within me. I want to run up and tackle him. Hell, run up and give him an old-fashioned bear hug. But he has to be a head taller than me now. Iβm the one whoβd be shaken around like a rag doll, not him.
I patiently stand and wait. I shove my hand in my pocket and rub the back of my neck. Nerves are still rampant, now accompanied with excitement, and the patience I was trying to channel has dissipated.
Okay, okay, Iβve waited long enough. We all know Iβm who he really wants to see but will never be expecting to. That thought has the taste of regret and guilt all over it.
βAhem.β I clear my throat and take a step closer. Daxβs eyes shift to mine, and I swear I see every emotion pass through them. The same emotions I feel but keep tightly hidden. He shakes his head, shaking the shock away. His pretty boy smile illuminates his face, and I canβt contain the one spreading across mine.
Commence bear hug. Daxβs long legs and quick strides have him hugging me in no time. Out of reflex, my body stiffens. Embracing is foreign to me, but Daxβs embrace tightens, and the reserve Iβve managed to keep up falters. This is my brother. My brother who couldβve died. The thought alone constricts my airways. I swallow hard, pushing the emotion threatening my eyes back down with it. Iβm not going to think about the βcould haves.β
βMan, youβve sure grown up.β I keep a hand on his shoulder, fully taking him in, seeing what all has changed. His facial features are sharper, more defined. Bright hazel eyes still filled with wonder and dark golden hair, truly embodying the Golden Boy term of endearment. No more towhead. Heβs grown and it makes me want to pinch his cheek and ruffle his hair. But Iβd have to reach up to do that.
βTake a picture. It lasts longer.β Dax snickers and I laugh at him using one of his key phrases from our childhood. βBut on a serious note,β he starts, placing his hands on my shoulders, almost like heβs fusing me to the ground to keep me from taking off again. βYou donβt know how much you being here means to me.β He looks away, pausing. βIt means more to me than this award.β His bottom lip quivers slightly, and I nod in agreement.
βIβm being reassigned and didnβt plan on making any pit stops,β I admit. βBut when Mom got ahold of me and told me about this awardβ¦β I look away for a moment, trying to hide the emotion within. βI couldnβt miss it.β
He smiles. βI love you, too.β
βIβm really sorry about Lincoln. I know how close you both were.β I hate that I couldnβt be here for him during that time. He nods, accepting the condolence.
βI have someone I need to introduce you to.β Dax turns around and pulls a woman to his side when he turns back. βThis is Lynsie Fox.β And now, the conversation my mother was having with herself on the car ride makes sense.
βItβs nice to meet you, Dustin.β She smiles, sticking her hand out to shake mine.
I quickly glance at my brother for answers but know this isnβt the time or place Iβll get any. I close my hand around hers and give her a genuine smile. βItβs nice to meet you too, Lynsie.β
With Lynsie attached to his side, I catch up with my brother for a moment. I mainly stand and listen to them as I soak this all in. The distraction is something Iβve needed. Iβve denied myself the interactions and communication with those who know me best; those who love me. I like to say I didnβt choose the life of solitude, it chose me, but Iβm beginning to second-guess that idea.
People start to make their way into the room where the ceremony is being held, and we slowly meander in that direction.
βLynsie,β I hear coming our way, causing Dax and Lynsie to swing around. They chat with the new posse member, and I stand, deep in thought. So many thoughts. I look around, giving curt smiles and nods as people walk by, feeling awkward standing here.
βYou look gorgeous, girl.β I hear who I presume to be Lynsieβs friend say and something about the voice feels familiar. I pull my gaze back, right in time for Lynsie and Dax to slightly part from one another, revealing whoβs on the other side.
I stop in my tracks, and my body instantly tenses. The idea that Iβve died and gone to heaven truly crosses my mind, but Iβm snapped back to reality. Dax turns my way, eyeing me. I close my eyes tight and shake my head. I feel like Iβm seeing a mirageβsomething I want to be real but isnβt. I mean, she canβt be. Thereβs no way, after so long, weβd finally cross paths.
Nope, not a ghost or a figment of my imagination. I run my hand through my hair, resting it at the crook of my neck. Itβs ridiculously hot, and the nerves I felt earlier are childβs play compared to the ones flowing through me now. She hasnβt seen me yet, and I contemplate making a run for it. Itβs been thirteen years, and I feel as lost as I did when I realized she was gone. How is that possible?
I can see the questions in Daxβs eyes, much like the ones I have for him, but her attention is now on him. I listen and watch intently.
βLook at you, Dax. You sure clean up nice.β She playfully smacks his cheek. Happiness and jealousy envelop me at once. I clinch my fists together, unsure what to do with them or these feelings.
βYou donβt look so bad yourself, Echo,β Dax replies, glancing back my way, eyeing me.
With a wide smile, she starts to reply, but then her eyes dart past Dax, falling straight on me, and her smile vanishes. My shoulders slightly fall, hating that I caused it. We stare at each other in silence for what feels like foreverβa lifetime. I donβt want it to ever end.
βDustin,β Echo whispers with a hint of disbelief as if sheβs now the one seeing a ghost. And Iβve never wanted to equally die and live in the same breath as I do right now.
I unclench my fists, roll my shoulders back, and stare, unable to take my eyes off her. My God, sheβs even more beautiful than I remember. And my memory is impeccable. How do you forget every single feature of someone when you dream of them every night of your life? You donβt, and I havenβt. I shove one hand in my pocket and run the other over my face and inwardly curse. I should have shaved. She looks back and forth between Dax and me, piecing it together.
βSo yβall are brothers.β It comes out as more of a statement than a question as her voice slightly cracks.
I nod. He nods. We both nod.
βHow do you and Dustin know each other?β Lynsie asks, watching Echo carefully. Uncertainty fills her expression like a sucker punch. She looks at the ground and begins fidgeting with her hands. Quirks of hers Iβm all too familiar with. I envision closing the distance between us and taking her into my arms to comfort her like I did many times before.
She begins to stammer with indecision.
I clear my throat. βWe went to high school together.β Stabbing pain sears my chest, and I make the mistake of looking at Echo. Her beautiful face is trained on me, and for a heartbeat, the same pain I feel consumes her brown eyes. I just belittled what we hadβwhat she was to me.
Dax keeps looking back and forth between us, trying to place her. But with the shitty situation she and I had, heβs not going to be able to. I keep my eyes on her, wishing we could shut everyone around us out. Wishing she could read my thoughts. Wishing I could announce what she meant to meβ¦ what she still means to me.
Dax mumbles, βOh shit.β Like he just had an epiphany.
I take a step forward and open my mouth, needing to expand on my words. She cuts her eyes in my direction, stopping me dead in my tracks. I finally pull my eyes away from her, refocusing my vision to our surroundings. Thatβs when I watch my new platoon sergeant walk up and put his arm around Echo.
βI see youβve met my platoon leader,β he states before placing a kiss on her cheek.
She musters a smile, not daring to look away from me. βSeems so.β
My heart drops and my hand twitches at my side, begging to be fisted.
For a second, my belief in the universe and God had reappeared, making a glimmer of hope break through within me. But the reality of the situation quickly snuffs out all hope, making me remember why I quit believing in all the fluffy shit so long ago. All hope does is inflict hurt.
I suppress the maniacal laugh reverberating within my ribs. I know firsthand how cruel the world can beβ¦ but boy did it just one-up the hell out of me. In this moment, I know the world has it out for me. Iβm hated by the stars that were supposed to align for me and Echo.
Stupid stars, and universes, and constellations. Stupid astrology. Itβs all bullshit.

.jpg)
Now, Dustin is distant and cold. He pushes everyone away and clings to his solitude. Angry and bitter, he is simply a shell of the boy he once was. Living the Army life, the close calls he survives daily only further harden his heartβuntil she reappears in his life.
Echo Price grew up living a nomad lifestyle until her evangelistic father decided to put roots down in a small Georgia town. She loved singing, pitching, and despite her fatherβs disapproval, quickly fell for a boy named Dustin. The war between her heartβs desires and the rules her overly protective father enforced came at a price they all paid.
Thirteen years later she comes face to face with the boy who had once stolen her heart. Faced with an emotional dilemma, she must navigate the feelings the encounter rekindles. What some might view as a stroke of fate feels more like a cruel joke to Echo, as Dustin is now headed back to war with Brianβher husband.
But sometimes fate has a way of stringing souls together when itβs least expected, proving itβs never too late for mended hearts.

Erika Ashby grew up an Army Brat, spending most of her childhood in Oklahoma, where she finally put roots down. She currently lives in Edmond, OK where she faithfully attends North Church with her kids. She's a blessed mom of 4 who loves Jesus and serving others. Her hobbies include attending dirt track races, concerts, reading, DIY, and making red dirt shirts. It wasnβt until the ripe age of 27 when she realized she had a hidden passion for reading. Up until that point in her life, she claimed to have hated it. Shortly after, she was hit with another revelation: the desire to tell stories. Knowing she had failed all writing assignments in school, she set out on this journey mainly to prove to herself she could do it. So, here she is today, proving it. Erika wants to encourage anyone with a dream to go for it.
Comments
Post a Comment