Rebuilding Love: Essentially Yours Series, page 1
Copyright © 2023 S.E. Isaac
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Cover design by: Monster in the Cookie Jar
Contents
Copyright
Rebuilding Love
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Dear Reader,
BY
S.E. ISAAC
Rebuilding Love
Chance DeLuca has become Dallas' most eligible, bad-boy bachelor. The man everyone thought was untouchable; however, he shocked them all. He just spent a year doing time. Now, he is released and under a judge's ruling that he can't hang out with anyone with a criminal background... there went his family reunion. For the first time in thirty-seven years, he is completely on his own and he isn't liking it one bit. He's living on the other side of the city, comes home to an empty apartment, and is now forced to do manual labor as a construction worker. Could his luck get any worse?
~*~
Ashlynn Prior has always had a thing for bad boys, especially ones with the initials C.D. The man was her kryptonite. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for him; however, when she made him choose between her and his father’s organization, he didn’t choose her. Her heart broke into a million pieces, and she walked away from everything, leaving Dallas in her rearview mirror with no turning back. Or so she thought, because it's been nearly two years, and a new promotion has landed her back in the city she despises. She’s ready to put the past behind her. There’s just one problem… Fate has other plans in store for her.
Is Chance's luck finally going to change around now that Ashlynn is back in town? Will she be willing to give him another shot at love? Or will she be too busy packing her bags and running for the hills to notice her happily ever after?
Chapter One
Chance
“Mr. DeLuca, now associating with includes phone calls,” Charles Jones, my parole officer, complains.
“He’s my cousin. There’s no way I’m not calling him. You’ve lost your damn mind if you think otherwise,” I reply, clutching my phone to my ear.
“He has a rap sheet longer than I-35,” Charles sighs. I chuckle at his words.
It’s true. My cousin, Frankie, has been in and out of the slammer since he was about twelve. His charges range from petty theft, grand theft auto all the way to the more recent charge of aggravated assault. He got a slap on the wrist for the last charge since the witness conveniently changed their story. Thanks to my father.
“Mr. DeLuca, please, for the love of God, just keep your nose clean for half a year. After that, you’re off papers, and life goes on… without me in it!”
“I should be able to talk to family.”
“Like I said, for the thousandth time,” he groans. “If they are on paper, you can’t associate with them. Blood or not.”
Six months? I suppose for the next six months, I could relay messages through my old man. That’d be an easy fix. He owes me anyway since I took the case for Matteo, his consigliere, a.k.a his right-hand man.
Some fucking father you are, I mutter to myself.
The whole situation pisses me off. I’ve had a long twelve months to think about everything. Four months in jail awaiting trial and eight months in actual prison. I walked away from the best thing in my life and took the case to prove to my father that I was loyal to our family name. And what the hell did I have to show for it? Not a damn thing except parole and a back-breaking job. I never should have done time in the first place; house arrest at most.
There was something off about my attorney, the judge, the prosecutor, the case… everything. I swore while I was locked up that I’d get to the bottom of it if it was the last thing I did. There was no way I was going to live life without her over a set-up. If she wasn’t going to be in my life, I better have given her up for a damn good reason… like family.
“Alright. Six months. Too easy,” I reply, smirking.
“Mr. DeLuca, why does your tone worry me?” he asks.
“You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Jones. I’ll behave,” I chuckle. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to get back to this shitty-ass job you found me.
“That job pays good money, and it’s also helping others.”
“Helping others?” I frown. “How the hell is construction helping others?”
“You’re an essential worker, Mr. DeLuca. Without workers like you, roads would stay crappy, and people wouldn’t be able to get around,” he says as though he’s the spokesperson for the union or some shit.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Jones. Talk to you later.” I hang up my phone and place it inside my bookbag.
I look around the world around me. Heavy operating equipment, porta-potties, traffic barrels, and piles of dirt and rocks are everywhere. This is a life I never imagined myself living in. I grew up wearing designer clothes, driving nice cars, and living a life of luxury. There hasn’t been a single thing luxurious since the day I was arrested. And now that I’m out, life is even shittier.
Despite the hot ass weather, I have to wear long sleeve shirts, work pants, and steel-toed boots. I had never even heard of steel-toed boots until orientation. On the first day of wearing them, I felt like I had damn concrete on my feet. My coworkers all got a good laugh out of it.
“Hey, DeLuca! Break’s over!” Mike, my supervisor, shouts a few feet from me. The guys are already huddled up around him.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m coming. Hold your horses,” I say, zipping up my bag.
“Hurry up!” one of the guys yells.
This is only day five, and I already know I’m not built for this shit. My body hurts in places I didn’t even realize could hurt. And I walk around smelling like I bathed in muscle cream. The assholes around me are machines and go for hours without complaining. They’re a different breed. Ones I hope to never see again once these six months of hell are up.
Chapter Two
ASHLYNN
Why I decided to move back to Dallas, Texas, in the middle of the summer is beyond me. The heat was ridiculous, and the traffic even more so. I was ready to leave my car in the middle of I-35, climb over the concrete barrier, and Uber to my new apartment.
This shit is for the birds, I complain to myself.
I had a last-minute appointment across the city; otherwise, I wouldn’t have ended up stuck in this hell during rush hour. City life didn’t fit my personality. You needed patience to live in the city, and I had none. Life had drained it from me. With countless dead-end relationships, loss of friendships, and shitty bosses, I no longer had time to wait for others. I had learned my lesson. It was time for me to be selfish and only care about my–
HONK! The car behind me blaring their horn has me snapping out of my daze.
“And I thought I didn’t have any damn patience,” I mutter, creeping my car forward in traffic.
I open my mouth to vent, but my phone rings. The display pops up with MOM.
“Of course, Miss Ray of Sunshine would call right now,” I sigh, answering the call.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, Sweetpea. How are you doing today?” she asks cheerfully. Hard to stay pissed off with her heavy Southern accent and sweet tone.
“It was okay, overall.”
“Are you sure? You sound upset. Do you not like your new place?”
“My new place is okay. Nothing to complain about. I promise,” I assure her.
“Hmm. Well, call it my momma intuition, but I can tell something is bothering you. Spill it, Ashlynn Rebekkah Prior.”
Her entire tone shifts. She goes from sweet, cuddly teddy bear to grizzly bear real fast. She isn’t going to take anything but the truth.
“My full name? Really, Mom?” I sigh. “That’s just cruel.”
“All is fair in love and war, my dear,” she chuckles. “Now tell Momma what is going on.”
I debate on continuing my lie about how life is great. My parents have always been there for me; however, I don’t like stressing them. Anytime the littlest thing upsets me, my father is ready to dig a giant hole, and my mom is right there beside him with her shovel.
“Ashlynn,” she says sternly.
“I’m just not adjusting fully. It isn’t the end of the world. I promise.”
“It’ll take time, Sweetheart,” she replies sweetly. “You’ve only been back in the city for two months. It takes time to adjust to life, especially after a breakup. It’s only been what? A little over a year or so?”
“I know. I’m not trying to complain.”
“Honey, it’s okay to vent about things that are bothering you. You know this. Your dad and I will always have your back. Always.”
And, just like that, the emotions of being stuck in traffic leaves. My mom’s superpower is making people feel better. She has had this power since I was a little girl, and I don’t think she’ll ever lose it. She’s just t
“Mom, you’re the best. You know that, right?” I smile.
“Little ole me,” she says in a dramatic Southern Belle accent.
“Mom, you can’t do the Southern Belle accent if you already have a thick Shake-and-Bake accent,” I tease. We both burst into laughter and spent the next thirty minutes on the phone, helping me get through the wait in traffic.
***
The longest hour of my life is finally behind me. I can’t push 6 fast enough on the elevator panel. Six short floors up, and I’ll be able to kick off my heels and unwind.
“Hold the elevator!” a man yells as the doors begin to close. I quickly push the button holding the doors open.
The man rushes inside the elevator, holding two medium size boxes stacked on top of each other and a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He walks toward the back of the elevator behind me. The smell of cologne, sweat, and diesel hits my nose.
“What floor?” I ask, glancing back at him.
He peeks from around the boxes. My blood runs cold, and my knees weaken as he stares down at me with his cognac-colored eyes.
“Hey, Ashlynn,” he smirks slightly.
“Chance,” I reply coolie, facing forward. “What floor?”
“Six,” he replies.
His response floods me with anxiety. Of all the buildings in the city, why does my ex have to be here? And why the hell is he going to the same floor as me? Life really is unfair.
I release my finger from the button holding the doors open and take a deep breath as the doors close.
“How’ve you been?” he asks softly. My heart skips several beats and I want to cry.
How can he still sound so sexy to me? Why do I want to throw everything out of the way and wrap my arms around him like there’s tomorrow? It’s all suffocating and deceiving.
Pull your big girl panties up, Ashlynn, I scold myself. Now isn’t the time to show weakness.
Who the hell am I kidding? Chance DeLuca is my weakness. He always has been. We practically grew up together. We dated for years, and less than two years ago, he ripped out my heart. Instead of marrying me, he decided to take the fall for one of his father’s goons and went to prison.
“I’ve been great,” I say, smiling back at him. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been okay,” he replies.
I can tell he’s lying, but I don’t want to engage in conversation any further. I know talking to him is dangerous. I’ll be trapped in his web with nowhere to run. It’s always like that when Chance and I are together.
“That’s good,” I nod, then face forward, hoping to hide my nerves from him.
All I can do now is ride out the silence and count down the seconds until the elevator doors open. And, the minute they do, I’m running for the hills.
Chapter Three
Chance
Why of all the people, who could hold the elevator for me, why did it have to be Ashylnn? The woman who owns my heart and brings me to my knees. Ashlynn Prior.
“Do you live here?” I ask, sounding like an idiot.
“Mmhmm,” she replies.
“Ah. I see.”
I had heard she sold our apartment and moved out of the city. But now, she’s standing a few inches from me. My fingers itch to hold her hand or stroke her cheek. Something. Anything. I miss her like crazy.
“Live alone?” I blurt thoughtlessly.
She spins on her heels and glares at me. There is hurt and anger in her eyes. I definitely should have chosen my words better.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to–”
“Didn’t mean to what, Chance? Huh? What didn’t you freaking mean?” she yells at me.
I don’t even try to speak up. She has every right to yell at me. After all, I broke her heart. I would have given my last breath for Ashylnn, but when she asked me not to take the case for Matteo, I didn’t. I threw away our entire relationship to please my father.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say.
“Yeah, you are,” she mutters and faces forward.
Guess I deserved that as well, I mumble to myself.
“What the hell are you even doing here, Chance?” she asks as the elevator dings and the doors slide open. She takes a step forward.
“I live here now,” I reply, stopping her in her tracks.
“Of course you do,” she growls and walks off the elevator.
I step off the elevator. We both go right, and she glances over her shoulder. I don’t say anything. I just walked towards my apartment. We get to the end of the hallway. She stands in front of 612, and I stand across the hallway in front of 611.
“And… we are neighbors,” she complains.
There’s so much disgust in her voice. I miss the sweetness when she would talk to me. Now, she has nothing but bad feelings for me. And I can’t even blame her. I did this to her.
My back is to her, but I can hear her keys jingling. I want to throw my stuff down, pull her in my arms, and apologize for everything I ever did to hurt her. There’s so much I’m fucking sorry for.
I hear her unlock her door, followed by her opening it. I set my boxes down and face her. She’s already inside and about to close the door.
“I really am sorry for everything, Ashlynn.”
She pauses and without looking back at me, nods her head and closes the door.
“Son of a bitch,” I groan, staring at her door.
These next six months of living here are going to be hell. Pure hell. How am I supposed to survive knowing she’s only a few feet from me every day?
I kick at the air in frustration and then fish my keys from my pocket.
“My realtor is going to catch hell if I see them again,” I mutter before unlocking my door, grabbing my stuff, and disappearing inside my place to live life out in misery.
***
Two hours have gone by since I watched Ashlynn close the door behind her. The longest two hours of my life. She ran through my mind more than usual. It feels like she is haunting my thoughts, reminding me of what I lost.
“Ugh!” I yell into the couch pillow.
I can’t live like this. Knowing she is so close and I can’t even talk to her is torture. No man should have to go through this.
“This is bullshit,” I huff and grab my phone off the coffee table. I quickly call my realtor.
“Hi, Mr. DeLuca. How are you?” Max, my realtor, asks.
“Not good at all,” I groan.
“Ut oh. What’s up?”
“I need to move. Immediately.”
“Move?” he gasps. “No can do.”
His words light a fire in me. What the hell does he mean, no? His job is to find me a place, not tell me whether or not I can move.
“What? Why the hell not? Just find me something else, and I’ll break my lease.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but–”
“But what?” I snap at him.
“Mr. DeLuca, it is a bit more complic–” He stops his words abruptly and sighs heavily. “I need to make a phone call. I’ll call you back once I have the answer about you moving.”
“Who the hell do you need to call to ask permission for me to move?” I growl. I’m losing patience by the second. If he isn’t careful with his words, he’ll be losing a client.
“I… I… just need to call… someone.” There’s hesitation in his voice. He sounds scared shitless. If it’s someone scarier than me, then it can only be one person.
“Why the hell are you calling my dad?”
“I can’t say. He’ll kill me,” he blurts.
“Did he tell you to show this place to me? Did he know Ashlynn lives here?” I ask in disbelief.
“Look, I really want to tell you, but I have to play dumb. I’m sorry. Let me call him, and then I’ll call you right back.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll call him myself,” I growl, ending the call.
I take a few deep breaths and then call my father. It rings four times.
“Hey, Chance. What are you up to?” he asks.
“Hey, Dad,” I reply. My nerves are starting to get the best of me. If I come at him the wrong way, he nor my mother will let me hear the end of it. “I’m just relaxing a bit. What are you up to?”
“Ah, so that’s how we’re doing it now?” he chuckles. He could always tell when I was lying. It’s pointless to lie, but I needed to buy myself time to calm down.
