Pieces of Us (Missing Pieces #3) - N.R. Walker

Chapter One

Justin

I was up before Dallas, which was unusual, drinking my decaf coffee and staring out the kitchen window. He was normally awake before me, but a headache somewhere around five in the morning had me up searching for my pills. Headaches were nothing new; sometimes I’d catch myself thinking life was returning to normal, but then the constant pain inside my head reminded me otherwise.

I was so used to headaches now I barely registered them. That continuous ache was sometimes dull, sometimes sharp, but always there. Except for this morning when it woke me up.

I was never too cheerful in the morning, but today I was feeling particularly sorry for myself. Not even watching Dallas sleep improved my mood. If anything, it made me feel even shittier. He was so good to me. He was, without doubt, too good for me as well.

But for some stupid reason, he loved me. He loved me before the accident, and that didn’t change anything for him. If anything, he reckoned it made him realise he loved me more now. It had been a lesson in taking things for granted, he’d said. I could see it in his eyes just how much he loved me. Those hazel-grey eyes couldn’t hide a thing, and I found myself recognising his moods in them.

Losing myself in them.

Dallas had said that we fell in love hard and fast the first time, and it was much the same for me the second time. He was caring, attentive, thoughtful, funny . . . everything I ever wanted in a boyfriend. He was also tall, strong, and handsome. How on earth I’d ever scored him once was a mystery to me. The fact he’d stuck around for a second time was just crazy.

But stuck around he had.

I hated to think where I’d be without him. If I’d decided not to go home with him when we’d left the hospital—not that I had anywhere else to go—well, they would have found me somewhere, apparently. But my heart said to go with him, and now I knew why.

Because my heart knew him.

My heart loved him.

And on days when I felt like shit—not just physically, but emotionally as well—I just felt . . . useless.

Like a kid who needed babysitting. Who couldn’t walk up or down stairs without supervision, who couldn’t even have a shower in the house by himself. And being at work was like my first day as a sixteen-year-old apprentice. I knew it was all for my safety or whatever, but that just pissed me off. I wasn’t a kid. I wasn’t incompetent. I knew how to do this stuff. And some days my brain was slow as hell; but some days my mind was fine and it was my body that betrayed me.

I hated being like this.

I hated being so dependent on other people. I hated that Dallas had to look after me like I was a toddler and how Sparra had to babysit me at work. I hated that I was aware of just how much I couldn’t do, of how much I used to do and now couldn’t.

We’d spent a few hours on Saturday at Jimmy and Nancy’s house, and I was so wiped out, it put my arse on the couch for all of Sunday. I napped on and off all damn day. I tried to do a few things around the flat with Dallas but was no good at anything.

He’d simply kissed me with a smile and told me to rest while he pottered about getting everything done while I parked up in front of the damn TV like a simpleton.

I couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d put up with it. How long would it take until he realised he could have any guy he wanted who didn’t have a brain injury? That didn’t have a fucked-up leg and who didn’t speak slow?

I heard the bedroom door open and didn’t even have to turn around. The sound of his feet got closer, then his huge warm hand slid up my back. “Hey,” he murmured. “I woke up alone.”

I sighed, now feeling even shittier than before. “Sorry. Headache woke me up and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Oh, you feel okay?” he asked, concerned. “Want me to get your pills?”

I turned then and offered a small smile. “I already took one, thanks.”

He put his fingers to my chin and inspected my eyes. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

I shrugged. “I feel . . .” I couldn’t find the right