Broken By Love (Love Hurts #1)

Chapter One

Sarah

She unlocked the front door quietly, not wanting to wake him. The house was dark, but a flickering blue light emanated from the living room. The TV was on.

Sarah slipped off her heels in the foyer, her feet aching. She moved down the hallway, smiling softly. Maybe he was up. Maybe she could curl up on his chest, on their spot on the couch, and complain about the terrible speeches.

As she neared the archway, a sound stopped her. It wasn’t the TV. It was a wet, rhythmic slapping sound, punctuated by heavy, guttural breathing.

Sarah froze. Her blood turned into ice water. She took one step, then another, rounding the corner.

The scene before her didn't make sense. It was like looking at a car crash; her brain refused to process the violence of it.

On the gray sectional—the one they had picked out together, the one where they spent every Sunday morning drinking coffee—her husband was on top of a woman. But it wasn't a stranger. The tangled blonde hair, the familiar curve of the hip... it was Emily. Her sister.

Harrison was moving with a feral intensity Sarah had rarely seen, his hands gripping Emily’s waist, his back arched.

Sarah stood paralyzed in the shadows. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't blink. She was forced to witness the nightmare in high definition.

Then, she heard Emily’s voice. It was breathless, needy, a tone Sarah had heard her use to manipulate parents and boyfriends for years.

"Tell me," Emily gasped, her head thrown back against the cushion where Sarah usually rested her head. "Tell me how much you like fucking me."

Sarah waited for Harrison to stop. To realize what he was doing. To wake up.

Instead, Harrison groaned, driving into her harder. "God... you're the hottest, tightest pussy I've ever fucked," he rasped, the words slurring with lust. "I can't go a single day without putting my dick in inside you."

The words hit Sarah like physical blows. Tightest. Ever.

Her gaze drifted down, morbid curiosity overriding her shock. She looked at the point where their bodies connected. The raw friction. There was no shine of latex. No wrapper on the table.

He wasn't using a condom.

The husband who insisted on double contraception for two years because they "weren't ready" for kids was raw-dogging her sister on their marital couch.

A primal scream built in Sarah’s throat, but it didn't come out as sound. It came out as action.

She reached blindly to the wall beside her. Her fingers curled around the heavy wooden frame of their wedding portrait—a black and white shot of them laughing in the rain.

With a surge of adrenaline, she ripped it off the hook.

"GET OFF HER!"

Sarah hurled the frame. It didn't hit them, but it smashed onto the hardwood floor inches from the couch with a thunderous crash. Glass exploded, skittering across the room.

Harrison scrambled back, tripping over his own discarded sweatpants. He looked wild, confused, his eyes wide with panic as he saw Sarah standing in her gala dress, shaking.

Emily didn't look scared. She looked annoyed. She pulled the throw blanket over her naked body, slowly sitting up.

"Sarah?" Harrison stammered, holding his hands up as if to ward off a blow. He was naked, exposed, and pathetic. "Sarah, wait, I—I didn't think you'd be home."

"You didn't think I'd be home?" Sarah shrieked, her voice tearing at her throat. "That's your defense? You're inside my sister on my couch, unprotected, and you're surprised I'm home?"

"It just happened," Harrison pleaded, stepping toward her. "I swear, it just—"

"Don't lie to me!" Sarah pointed a trembling finger at him. "You said you can't go a day without it. How long? How long have you been sleeping with her?"

Harrison went silent. That was answer enough.

"Get out," Sarah hissed. The air in the room felt toxic. "Both of you. Get out of my house."

Emily stood up then, wrapping the blanket tighter like a toga. She stepped over the broken glass of Sarah’s wedding day.

"Actually, Sarah," Emily said, her voice eerily calm, bordering on boredom. "I'm not going anywhere. Mom and Dad left this house to both of us. It's half mine. You can't kick me out."

Sarah looked at her sister. Really looked at her. She saw the jealousy that had festered for decades, the entitlement, the rot.

"Is that right?" Sarah walked to the front door and flung it wide open to the cold night air.

She turned back to them, her eyes dead. "You can argue about the deed with the lawyers.

But right now, if you two aren't out of here in thirty seconds, I am calling the police and telling them there are intruders.

And considering Harrison is naked and I have a shattered frame on the floor, who do you think they'll believe? "

She turned her gaze to Harrison. "Do you want the neighbors to see you being dragged out in handcuffs, Harrison? Or do you want to leave?"

Harrison looked at Emily, then at the open door. Shame finally seemed to catch up with him. He grabbed his pants from the floor, hopping on one leg to put them on.

"Emily, let's go," Harrison muttered.

"Seriously?" Emily scoffed. "You're going to let her boss us around?"

"Go!" Sarah screamed, the sound ripping through the neighborhood silence.

Harrison grabbed his keys and wallet from the coffee table and bolted out the door without looking back. Emily glared at Sarah, snatched her pile of clothes, and sauntered past her sister.

"You were always such a prude, Sarah," Emily whispered as she passed. "He needed something real."

Sarah slammed the door in her face, locking the deadbolt.

She leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door. She could hear Harrison’s car starting in the driveway. She slid down to the floor, her expensive dress pooling around her, gasping for air as the silence of the empty house rushed back in to crush her.

She was alone. But the silence was better than the sound of them together.