Heartsmashed (Hate to Love You #2)

Chapter 1

SAWYER

“HOLD ON, LET me make sure I understand this,” I said, leaning back in my chair in the studio that was basically my second home. “This—bleep—broke up with you because he didn’t want a relationship, but he’s blasting some new girl he took to Cabo all over his social media? Absolutely the—bleep—not.”

My producer, Leon, was quick with the bleeping tonight, and I should’ve felt ashamed he had to do it at all. Having a couple of drinks at dinner before the show wasn’t a smart choice, especially not with my mood lately, and it had made my lips a little looser than they should’ve been.

But one glance at the full, blinking call board told me the listeners were loving it.

“You know what pisses me off about these guys?” I continued. “They’re out here treating relationships like free trials, and then somehow we’re the ones surprised when they cancel before the billing cycle hits. It’s bull—bleep—.”

Leon banged on the window, and though it was against my best interests, I looked up.

The poor guy looked ready to blow, his skin somehow ten different shades of red and his veins popping at his temples.

I considered myself lucky then that he was stuck in the control room for the duration of the show and not close enough to strangle me.

But because apparently I had a death wish, I blew him a kiss and spun back to the microphone.

The caller was still laughing, obviously agreeing with my little rant. “So what should I do?” she said.

“Well, that depends. If you’re a better person than me, you take the high road. Block his page, pretend you wish him well, blah blah blah.”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think I can do that.”

“That’s because it’s not fair he’s out there living it up while you’re at home drinking your feelings somewhere that’s not Cabo.

You want him to feel as—bleep—as you do.

I get it. Right now there’s no balance in the universe, and until there is, you’ll stay pissed off.

” I cued up Blu Cantrell’s “Hit ’Em Up Style,” and as the intro began to play, I told the caller, “I can’t give specific advice on what to do next or legal will have my ass, but I can play you a song that always… inspires me.”

I ended the call and let the music take over, smirking as Leon banged his head against the glass repeatedly.

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I told her to slash his tires.”

“Only because I told you if you pulled that shit again, I’d be the one slashing yours.”

A slow grin curved my mouth and I shrugged, reaching for my tumbler of water. There wasn’t much that lit me up lately the way giving my producer hell did, and I had to find bright spots where I could.

Especially considering the rest of my life was a big pile of shit.

Seven weeks, five days, and eleven-ish hours ago, the man I’d thought was the love of my life had casually gotten up from my bed, got dressed for work, and then, just before he left, calmly announced he wouldn’t be coming back. Ever.

I’d thought it was a joke, since he stayed at my place more often than his own, but when I’d called him later to make a final decision on our couples Halloween costumes, his number was no longer in service.

HIS NUMBER. WAS NO LONGER. IN SERVICE.

And still, I thought it must’ve been a mistake and he’d forgotten to pay his phone bill.

Or he’d gone on his lunch break to get the new iPhone and changed his number while he was at it and just hadn’t given me a heads-up.

Excuse after excuse after excuse for him until I realized he was really never coming back, and I was just the stupid fool who hadn’t seen it coming.

It had all been downhill since then.

As the song began to fade, I pushed aside all thoughts of my ex and slid into the easy rhythm I’d known for years.

“Welcome back to WZNY 105.7 FM. I’m Sawyer Montgomery, your host for the evening, and your love-is-a-lie cautionary tale.

Gimme a call and I’ll tell you all the reasons your ex is a douchebag and even play you a song. ”

The call board stayed lit up, and I tapped a button to bring the next one on. “You’re live with Sawyer—who broke your heart?”

“His name is Trey—bleep—.”

“Sorry, hon, no last names.”

“Well, he deserves to be put on blast.”

I kicked my feet up on the desk and settled back in my chair. “Tell me all about it.”

“I should’ve known something was up when he started going to the gym twice a day. He’d never even bothered to take our dog for a walk before.”

“Ah, yes, the prep before the breakup. Who was he getting ripped for?”

“Oh, get this—my ex-best friend. The one he said he couldn’t stand the whole time we dated.”

I hit the button that played a chorus of boos.

“I just don’t understand what I did wrong—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let me stop you right there,” I said. “Don’t you dare take responsibility for your ex being an ass”—I glanced up at Leon, his hand tensed over the bleep button, and decided to give him a break—“unfortunate human,” I finished. “Did he leave anything at your place?”

“Yes, but I don’t even want to see him to give them back.”

“Oh, you won’t be giving anything back. Here’s what you do. Bag it all up. The pictures, the hoodies, anything that reminds you of him. Take it down to a shipping dock, find an empty barrel, and set that—bleep—on fire.”

I grinned to myself and waited for her reaction, but when all that met me was silence, I glanced down to see the call had been disconnected. One look at Leon told me exactly who’d done it, and I growled.

“Looks like my producer didn’t think that was good advice,” I said into the mic. “But trust me, it helps. Next caller, what’s your heartbreak?”

“Yeah, hi. Listen, I’ve been a fan of your show for a long time, but man, it’s gotten depressing lately. All you do is complain about guys and play sad music that should’ve stayed in the nineties.”

I let out a low whistle. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I feel like you need some therapy.”

“And how much did my ex pay you to call and tell me that? Thanks for the advice, now here’s some for you: suck my ass.

” I ended the call before he could give me any more shit, and to my surprise, Leon didn’t bleep me out.

When I glanced up at him, though, I realized why—he’d been too busy letting my oldest brother, Hudson, into the control room.

Wearing his ever-present suit, he held up a to-go bag, which told me that he and Drew must’ve gotten dinner somewhere good nearby for him to stop in.

I held up a finger and leaned forward again.

“Let me make one thing clear,” I said. “I don’t hate all men, just the ones that make terrible decisions.

And yeah, maybe I come off a little bitter lately, but it’s not like I don’t still believe in love.

My moms are about to celebrate thirty-five years together, so it still exists, though right now I’m tempted to believe that’s because they’re women. ”

One of Hudson’s brows winged up at that as he stepped inside and leaned against the wall to wait for my next break. I could smell the delicious aroma of whatever was in that bag, and decided to wrap things up quick.

“So if anyone else want to call and give me hell, save your breath. The broken hearts of New York need me.” I pulled up the sappiest song I could find and hit go, giving that caller something to choke on.

Hudson waited until the On Air light went off and tucked the bag under his arm before giving me a slow clap.

I lowered my headphones around my neck and got to my feet to greet my brother. “You approve of that, huh?”

“Just glad to hear you’re not crying anymore.”

“What? I never cried.”

“You did. Every store within a mile radius was sold out of Kleenex for a month.”

Rolling my eyes, I snatched the brown bag from him and flopped back in my chair to rummage through the contents. “I’m giving you a pass, since you brought me food.”

“Sawyer,” Leon buzzed in. “You’d be owing me a year’s salary if I hadn’t caught your mouth in time.”

“Just keeping you on your toes, buddy,” I said, ignoring the way he grunted and cursed in response. I pulled out a pint of wonton soup from my favorite place around the corner and eyed my brother warily. “What’s wrong?”

He pulled at the left cuff of his suit and didn’t look at me. “What do you mean?”

“I know for a fact you don’t like this place, which means you stopped there specifically for me.”

“Because I’m a thoughtful brother—”

“I would agree, except the last time you did that, it was because you wanted to break the news of Rome losing the vintage microphone Mom and Mama gave me after my first year on air gently.” I set the soup on my desk and crossed my arms. “So what is it this time?”

Hudson opened his mouth like he was going to refute that, but then seemed to think better of it and sighed.

“Fine. You’re right. I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Hear what from you?”

“Mama’s investor, Alec, is going through a divorce—”

“So?”

“—and he’s been dating a new guy for a few weeks and kept it quiet.”

“Good for him.”

“No, not good for him. Or for you.”

I frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“He got our moms’ blessing to bring a date to the Catskills next week.”

“Hudson, I swear to God—”

“It’s Peter.”

My heart stopped.

For a long moment, all I could do was stare and wait for him to take his words back. Surely I’d misheard.

“That’s not funny,” I said.

“I’m not joking.”

A familiar tightness settled in my chest, the kind I’d been doing a damn good job of ignoring the past few weeks. But one word, two syllables, was all it took to have me feeling like the ground had opened up and swallowed me again.

“Oh God.” I sat forward, dropping my head between my knees, and Hudson was right there, his hand on my back.

“It’s shit,” he said. “He’s shit.”

“Why would he even want to come? He complained about having to leave the city when I brought up the anniversary the week before. And our moms don’t even like him.”

“Because he’s an asshole with nothing better to do.”

“Why didn’t they tell him no?” I sat up suddenly, feeling a sting in the back of my eyes, but fuck that. I wasn’t wasting another tear on him. “Tell the investor no pricks allowed.”

“Everything’s already been booked.”

“Then unbook it.” I rubbed at my forehead as it began to throb and the realization sank in.

Peter had moved on. Of course he had, and of course I was the last one to know.

And of course he wanted to rub it in my face at a private-family-and-close-friends-only event.

He had no right to be there. He’d left me, for fuck’s sake.

“Sorry to break up a heavy moment,” Leon said through the speaker, “but you’ve got fifteen seconds to air.”

I cursed and nodded, rolling my chair back to the microphone.

“Thanks for the soup,” I told Hudson before putting my headphones back on and taking in a deep breath. I kept my eyes on the screen as the commercial ticked down its last few seconds and tried to push the bad news to the back of my mind for the next two hours.

“I’m Sawyer Montgomery, you’re listening to WZNY 105.7 FM, and we’re back for another hour of hits. But fair warning: if you didn’t like my advice before that ad break, you’re really not going to like what I have to say now.”