Made to Break First Chapter

I’m so excited to share the first chapter of Made to Break with all of you. We are just five days away from the official release of Made to Break, so what better way to celebrate than to give you a sneak peek of what’s in store.

We jump right into the Zeke Harris you know and love (if you read the first book), but if you haven’t, this is the perfect introduction to his character. Although it’s just a fraction of who he is, this shows you his humor and lightheartedness. If you’ve read the first book, or have followed this page for a while, you know that book two overlaps the timeline we got in book one, so we will hear about some events we already got to witness first hand through Ember and Declan’s book, but this story fills us in on moments we didn’t witness in book one. Mainly, Zeke’s story with our female protagonist Avalon.

Here’s the first chapter… it’s short and sweet. I hope you enjoy:

Chapter One

Zeke

September

When I was a kid, the only thing that mattered to me was being good enough to go pro. Every broken bone, blood, sweat, and tears were all worth it to achieve the greatness I was striving for. And now I’m almost there. Once I graduate, I have a spot in the NHL if they still want me.

But I’d trade it all.

I’d trade it all in for a lifetime with my mom. For her cancer to be gone and never come back. For her to be a miracle that no one understands.

But I can’t do that.

Whether she lives or dies isn’t up to me. And I hate it. I hate not having control over that. I hate waiting for the phone call that changes my whole life. The phone call where the cancer finally wins.

I hate living each day wondering if it’ll be the last one I get with her… or if I’ll wake up and find out she spent her final moments alone because I wasn’t there. Because I’m the only one who’s ever there.

I’m the only one who cares… even if my dad says he does. I’ll believe it when I see it. I’ll believe it when he finally steps foot into the hospital again to be with her during treatments. I’ll believe it when he rubs her back while she throws up what little food she was able to eat because the chemo upsets her stomach. I’ll believe it when he steps up and does everything I’ve done for her since I was sixteen.

How was it fair for his child to step up and be the man he couldn’t be? The man my mom needed to stand by her and be the strength she didn’t have. The one to hold her while she cried because her hair started falling out. The one who shaved her head and bought her colorful wigs to cheer her up. The one who carried her to bed when she finally got home and was too weak to make it up the stairs.

And I’d do it all again.

But I shouldn’t have had to do it in the first place. No child should have to be the strength for both of their parents. No child should hide their emotions because they need to hold their family together. No child should have to act like they’re okay while they slowly watch their mom die… all because their dad didn’t know how to react. All because their dad spiraled out of control and left him to pick up the pieces.

Slowly, those emotions I didn’t know how to express had to go into something. And since I didn’t always have hockey games to get my aggression out, I resorted to something else entirely—

Sex.

And I had two rules:

No attachments. Never the same person twice.

Now, there are definitely some workarounds for the second rule. I can sleep with the same girl again on the road because the distance helps prevent attachments. And, if they haven’t left my place, multiple rounds are allowed.

But once they’re gone, that’s it. I move on… and so do they.

My phone vibrates against my nightstand, waking me up for morning practice. By now, I should be prepared for this; we’re either weightlifting or on the ice most days of the week. However, I’m slightly hungover from celebrating the football team’s win with Marcus last night, and my body’s completely worn out from all the activities I got up to after I left the party.

And the proof of my fun last night is a curvy redhead whose body is still draped over me.

I don’t know if I necessarily remember meeting her last night. I remember the blonde who came up to me, some chick from one of Declan’s classes, who I slept with the second week of school. I’m not typically great at remembering faces, but when we hooked up, she went on and on about this project for her class. I was so close to going home and forgetting the reason I was with her in the first place.

But then I realized I’m not stupid, and I could put up with a boring conversation if it meant mind-blowing sex afterward… and it was definitely mind-blowing.

There’s a knock on my door, but all the guys know better than to come in, especially after campus parties. But they also know that the morning after a campus party means not wanting to get out of bed for practice… so I’ll probably receive a phone call in the next few minutes to ensure I’ve done that.

So, even though I’d love to stay in bed for the unforeseeable future, I drag myself out. Because I’d rather do it myself than have one of the guys come into my room to do it.

I don’t get far before I feel arms wrap around me from behind and a warm, bare body press up against my back. Her nails graze down my bare chest, and all of last night comes flooding back to me. If there’s one thing I love more than a confident girl… it’s a confident girl with nails. Because nothing beats back scratches—both during and after fucking.

Her lips meet my back, and she kisses her way up to my neck before her teeth tug on my ear.

“And to think, I thought we were gonna get one more round in this morning,” she whispers. “Guess you’re still worn out from last night.”

I’m definitely still exhausted from last night. However, I’m not fucking stupid.

She turns me around before I can respond, but she doesn’t need me to respond verbally; my body does the talking.

She pushes up on her toes, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me. The kind of kiss that only means one thing—

Fuck me. Hard.

I grip her waist as my tongue dives deeper into her mouth, and we walk back toward my bed in unison. Once we’re close enough, I pick her up and toss her onto it.

There’s nothing better than waking up to a naked woman ready to sleep with you again. Especially when you need some energy to get through a long-ass hockey practice.

Fuck—hockey practice.

I tap the screen of my phone to check the time. Then I look at the girl sprawled out across my bed.

“Wait right here.” I hold up a finger before running out the door and down the hall to Declan’s room. I don’t even knock before swinging his bedroom door open.

“Fuck, Zeke.” He turns his head and scrunches his nose. “Should I be concerned that you’re barging into my room, buck ass naked? Or is there a logical explanation for this?”

I look down to see Zeke Jr. raring and ready to go.

I shrug. “Nothing you haven’t already seen before, bro.”

“Yeah, well, in a locker room, I’m somewhat prepared for it, first thing in the morning… in my bedroom… not so much.”

“Hypothetically,” I avoid his statement, “if there was a naked girl in my room right now, sprawled out across my bed, how long would I have to sleep with her before we need to leave for practice?”

“Hypothetically,” he rolls his eyes, “not enough time for you to go all Zeke.”

“What does that mean?”

“Unless you want to be late for practice and get dinged, five minutes at most.”

I shoot him a smug grin as I run back down the hallway to my room.

“I can work with that.”