In a Heartbeat (Heartbreaker Chronicles #4)

Chapter 1

“Starting to feel a bit judged,” I muttered when the TV screen went black and Netflix’s “Are you still watching ‘Dapper Daddies’?” message popped up for the second time today.

Or maybe it was the third. I sure as heck wasn’t counting.

I’d been camped out on the living room couch for so long, my concept of time had slipped away half a season ago. Snack wrappers and empty soda cans were littered around me, and my eyes were starting to feel strained from the daylong marathon.

Grumbling to myself, I stretched an arm across the cushion in search of the remote so I could continue my binge session.

The show was about disgustingly rich trophy husbands living in the UK.

After more than a year spent in recovery, I’d run out of decent content to keep me entertained and had resorted to reality television.

There was only one reason why I’d decided to waste my time watching this trash—the daddies, admittedly, were dapper.

As the theme song started up again, I heard the mudroom door creak open and shut, followed by clomping footsteps as someone made their way down the hall.

“Wow,” Stella said by way of greeting, her car keys clinking together as she tossed them on the kitchen island. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or alarmed.”

“About what?” I asked, eyes still locked on the screen. Based on previews from the previous episode, Sir Reginald Hughes and Alfie Campbell were about to get into a fistfight, and I didn’t want to miss the first punch.

“That you’re in the same spot as when I left this morning. Have you even taken a shower today?” She sounded casual, teasing even, but I knew Stella so thoroughly, I sensed an undercurrent of disapproval in her question.

“Can you smell me?” I asked.

“Well, no, but that doesn’t—”

I dismissed her with the wave of my hand. “Then piss off.”

The two of us didn’t normally fight, but ever since she’d come home for Christmas break, Stella had been directing passive-aggressive comments at me about how I spent my time, and it was starting to get on my nerves.

Someone who wasn’t my sister laughed.

It was a soft, under-the-breath kind of chuckle and unnervingly familiar.

My heart thumped against my chest, and I slowly turned toward the kitchen even though I already knew it was him.

Sure enough, leaning against the counter with a dimpled smirk on his face was a guy with tousled brown hair and eyes the color of the Atlantic.

Oliver Perry, Stella’s boyfriend.

I wished I could say I was glad to see him, especially since one glance in Stella’s direction confirmed how over-the-moon happy she was that he was here, but I couldn’t.

Things weren’t as simple as that. Oliver wasn’t some cute guy she met in her freshman Philosophy 101 class.

No, Oliver Perry was the lead singer of my all-time favorite band, the Heartbreakers.

And was there anything more awkward than your twin sister dating your celebrity crush?

A scalding flush crept up my neck as it occurred to me that I probably looked like an absolute horror show.

Stella was right about the shower situation.

I couldn’t remember the last time I applied deodorant, and my choppy bob, which was too short to pull back into a ponytail, hung down in limp, greasy strands.

As for the clothing situation, I’d been avoiding doing my laundry for the past week, give or take a month, so I had on my last clean pair of boy shorts and one of Drew’s old football tees.

On my brother, the shirt showed off all the hours he put in at the gym.

But on me? It looked like an oversized potato sack that was currently covered in orange Cheetos dust. To make the embarrassing situation even more mortifying, I had a hot pink pimple patch on my forehead.

Oliver’s grin widened as if he could hear what I was thinking. “Hi, Cara. It’s been a while.”

Six months to be exact. Not that I was counting.

“Oliver, hey.” My greeting came out an octave higher than normal, and I prayed he thought it was from surprise, not nerves. “What are you doing here?”

As subtly as possible, I pulled a throw blanket onto my lap.

I’d have put on pants if I knew anyone was coming over, but I was supposed to have the house to myself: Mom and Dad were at work; Drew was hanging out with friends; and when Stella said she was going out this morning, I didn’t expect her to return with her famous boyfriend in tow.

“Visiting my better half,” Oliver said, pulling Stella against him and pressing an audible kiss to her cheek. “The North American leg of our tour starts in Minneapolis this week, so I decided to fly out early.”

Stella half-heartedly attempted to push him away. “If you don’t stop slobbering on your better half, she’s going to kick your ass.”

His mouth curled into a lecherous grin, and he pressed his lips against her throat. “I’d much prefer a spanking.”

“Oliver!” Stella exclaimed, her cheeks turning a rosy pink as her gaze darted to mine.

“Oh, relax,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Cara knows I’m joking. Right, Cara?” He planted another kiss on Stella, this time in the crook of her neck. She stood stiff for a moment, then caved and melted into it, a bashful smile blooming to her face.

“Right,” I answered, even though Oliver and Stella were no longer paying me any attention. I wrapped the blanket around myself and shot to my feet. No way was I sticking around if they were going to go all Fifty Shades on each other. “That’s my cue to leave.”

“Hold on.” Stella shoved Oliver off and disappeared into the back hall. She returned a moment later holding something brown and flat, and it took me several seconds to realize it was an unassembled cardboard packing box. “We swung by Home Depot on the way back from the airport. This is for you.”

“That’s nice of you, but Christmas was over more than a week ago, and you already got me a gift,” I joked.

“It’s for our New Year’s resolution, remember? Oliver’s going to help me pack up my donations today.”

Oh right. How could I possibly forget?

The day after she came home for break, I found Stella cursing as she sat on her bedroom floor surrounded by the contents of her closet.

The Christmas gift she purchased for Mom was missing, and it wasn’t until she tore apart her entire room that she found it under the bed.

Instead of putting everything back in its proper place, she decided to purge all the junk and give herself a clean slate for the new year.

The stuff she no longer wanted would be donated to Goodwill.

When she found out I didn’t have a resolution of my own, Stella thrust hers on me, declaring we would declutter together, never mind I had zero interest in throwing away my belongings.

“Thanks, but pass,” I replied. “I already have plans for the rest of the day.”

Her entire face lit up. “What are you up to?”

“I’ll be watching hot British men gossip and fight like a bunch of schoolgirls.”

Oliver pointed a finger at me. “Now that sounds like a good time.”

His response gave me the courage to offer him a smile. “When you get sick of being my sister’s manservant, come find me. I’ll introduce you to a world of drama.”

Stella lips pursed. “If you’re not going to clean out your room, then what’s your resolution?”

Instead of responding, I pinned my sister with a cold glare. We both knew I didn’t have one. I was pretty sure Drew didn’t have one either, but you didn’t hear Stella harassing him about it.

“Fine,” she huffed after losing our stare down. She set one of the packing boxes on the table. “I’ll leave this here in case you change your mind.”

As if sensing the tension, Oliver stared opening kitchen drawers. “Ladies, any idea where I can find some packing tape? I’ve got boxes to put together.”

“First one on the left,” I answered, turning away from the lovebirds and scooping up the remote. With a quick click, I shut off the TV and beelined for the stairs, leaving Oliver and Stella to their…cleaning.

* * *

Up in my room, I threw on a pair of sweatpants, doused my hair with dry shampoo, and climbed under the covers with my laptop. If Stella was going to judge me for relaxing, then I’d do it in the privacy of my own bed.

Because honestly. Who the heck was she to tell me what to do?

Sure, I wouldn’t be here without her bone marrow donation, but after everything I’d been through, I deserved a break.

This was my life. I could live it however I wanted, and right now, that involved watching terrible TV.

I snuggled into my pillows and turned my show back on.

Several episodes later, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I called, hitting Pause.

Oliver poked his head inside. “Hey, mind if I bother you for a moment?”

My brows sprang up at the sight of him. The invitation to hang out was more of a joke than anything, and I hadn’t expected him to accept. “Already skirting your cleaning duties?”

“What do you mean by already?” he said, looking offended. “It’s been three hours. Manual labor and I don’t mix.”

When I rolled my eyes, Oliver flashed me the cocky smirk he was so well known for.

“What’s up?” I asked, setting my laptop aside and pushing myself into a sitting position. “Does Stella need something from me?”

“Not exactly.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable, then stepped into my room.

My eyes instantly zeroed in on the box he’d deliberately kept out of sight.

“She insisted I drop this off in case you suddenly change your mind about becoming a weirdo minimalist. I already taped it up for you.”

Irritation arrowed through me, but I pushed it down. This wasn’t Oliver’s fault. “Of course she did.” I heaved a sigh, then pointed at my desk. “You can put it over there.”

He did as I asked, then paused to study the assortment of knickknacks scattered across the surface. “So,” he said, scooping up an old Rubik’s Cube and flopping onto my computer chair. “How are you?”