Breaking (Fall or Break #2) by Barbara Elsborg Read Free Book Online

pang of envy at seeing someone on the water but it didn’t come. Was that because he knew it had to be fucking freezing out there or because his body accepted surfing would forever be beyond him? No, it bloody won’t. If I want to surf, I’ll fucking surf. Not that he’d ever actually been on a surfboard.
    Between him and the sea was an expanse of golden sand. He really thought he’d be jogging on it by now, building up his strength. He wasn’t sure he could walk as far as the end of the path. He couldn’t even get up the stairs to the sitting room with the amazing view for which he’d paid a fortune. His life was confined to bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. Desperation to get out of the house under his own steam, if only for a little while, pushed him toward the back door.
    He hadn’t been outside since he’d arrived weeks ago. He’d rebuffed all attempts to help him into the garden or to go out with Mark. He was cultivating the vampire look and made looking bored, blue and remote an art form. He didn’t feel up to walking down the path, but he was going to do it. He tugged on his coat, left the door unlocked, something he could never do in London, and set off on his personal marathon of fifteen yards. With crutches.

Chapter Four
    Conrad’s backyard was little more than an uneven concrete path running down the center of a sandy area studded with rocks. On the right-hand side was a bench made of driftwood that didn’t look safe to sit on. The letting agent had ambitiously described it as a Zen Garden. Conrad suspected the attempt at serenity was by accident rather than design. The rocks weren’t strategically placed. They were in those spots because they’d been too heavy to move .
    As he cautiously made his way down the path to the beach, he tried not to think about what he must look like. He was relieved no coworkers could see him shuffling like an old man. When he realized how far he’d walked, he felt pleased until he recalled he’d have to make the return journey. He figured there was a shitload of pain to get through before his mobility improved. He tried to follow the physio’s instructions and use the crutches more for balance than support, a safety net if his legs buckled. Progress was slow, but it was progress.
    Though by the time he leaned on the gatepost, his breathing was labored, his hands ached, his head throbbed, and his thighs burned. The beach was deserted apart from the single dark-haired, wet-suited surfer. He was too far away for Conrad to see his face but he admired his build and technique as he rode a wave most of the way to the shore before paddling back out.
    No town or village served Shennan Sands, an isolated and unspoiled gem on the Northumberland coast between Seahouses and Bamburgh. It had no local shop, no pub, no church. It was comprised of a handful of properties scattered along a stretch of coastline accessed by a single track road. The place Conrad was renting and the unoccupied house next door were the only ones that fronted the sea. A couple of hundred yards away there was a visitor’s car park that served the beach, but when the lot was full, people had to drive elsewhere.
    Conrad had been told those who frequented Shennan Sands were mainly locals with their dogs, ramblers using the coastal walk and the occasional surfer. Part of the reason for the high rental tag for the property had been its isolation, privacy and seclusion. Oh and that view from the room on the upper floor that he had yet to haul himself up to see.
    He watched a little dog running backward and forward at the edge of the sea, darting in and out of the incoming waves, and had an urge to get closer to the water. Knowing if he thought much longer about it, he’d change his mind, Conrad pushed open the gate and stepped onto the beach.
    Walking became considerably more difficult as his crutches sank into the sand, and he had to lift his feet with purpose. He almost turned back, but his hankering to achieve