Broken Lyrics (Book 3 of the Black Heart Series)

Twenty-Five

Asher

It was around midnight and Bree was sound asleep in my arms, her naked body curled around me.

I was looking into her beautifully angelic face, as the moon shined through our bedroom windows, when it hit me.

Bree had always been my muse. Alive, with me, away from me, even presumably dead, she had always been the drive behind my lyrics.

I slowly disentangled myself and dressed, passing DC's room on my way to the studio. Her stereo was running, but it was something I had never heard before...

Something acoustic...

I listened for a bit, realizing it was her playing her guitar. She was good. Really good.

"That's my girl." I smiled to myself and continued on.

I needed some coffee to wake me up, so that I could work this song out of my system.

When I made it into the kitchen, Claire was seated at the island, eating what had to be a bowl of cereal.

"Sorry, Sir," She looked around me, "I'll be out in just a moment. I was a little hungry."

"Cut the shit, Claire," I shook my head and chuckled, "Bree's out cold and Declan is working on something in her room. You know they hate the formalities anyway, so why play it?"

Claire was more than just a housekeeper, eight years ago she saved my life.

I had overdosed on sleeping pills and whisky, wanting to kill myself. It was her that found me. She called Jason, who brought Cortney.

Had it not been for Claire, I would have been gone and I would never have known that I had a daughter. I never would have found Bree again.

In my recovery, I had her and her kids move into my pool house. Her youngest was only a teen at the time and her oldest daughter was having a hard go and needed a place for her and her kid. So, it was a win-win.

Over the past 8 years, Claire and I had become friends. Her daughters were like sisters to me and her grandson had become a really cool kid.

I should introduce him to Declan... Maybe could hang out...

Wait! What I thinking?! I didn't want some eighteen year old boy around my girl.

I was proof that an eighteen year old boy should not be around a sixteen year old girl.

"I like her." Claire smiled widely, "Both of them actually."

I put my coffee in the maker and started the pot.

"I like how you light up around her."

I turned slowly to face Claire and crossed my arms, leaning against the counter.

"You too?"

"Me too?" Her brow furrowed.

"My mom and Dad said something about it a few days ago."

"Well, they have a point." She gave a nod, "I've worked for you for a long time and I've always felt like you were... Broken, in a way... Like you were searching for something... For her..."

"You've lost it, old woman." I chuckled.

"She's very kind and very, naturally beautiful." She smiled lovingly, as if recalling something, "Those home videos you always watched didn't do her justice."

She stood, bringing her bowl to the sink and rinsing it, before heading to the back door.

"And Ash?" She called back, over her shoulder, "Don't write anything too gushy or I won't listen anymore."