Title: We May Be Fractured
Author: Jessica Lascar
Publisher: NineStar Press
Graphic Designer: Denise Bozzo
Release Date: 08/12/2025
Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 93850
Genre: Contemporary, #ownvoices, asexual, bisexual, coming of age, contemporary, demisexual, enemies to lovers, found family, friends to lovers, gay, new adult, romance, slow burn, tattoos
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Description
A queer coming-of-age about a grieving teen whose plan to move abroad and find his own “Neverland” is derailed by community service, only for it to lead him on an unintentional journey of self-discovery — navigating love, coming to terms with his demisexuality, and redefining what home truly means.
Haunted by the car crash that took his family, eighteen-year-old Aaron is on the brink of fleeing London for Australia. Inspired by his late sister’s dream of working in a wildlife park, he searches for a fresh start — a place he can finally call home.
But on the eve of his departure, Aaron is caught with weed at a party, arrested, and sentenced to community service cleaning up the grounds and reviving the gardens of a neglected local retirement centre, anchoring him to the very city he longs to escape.
At the centre, Aaron meets an eclectic crew of misfits, including Landon, a fellow young offender with a reputation for trouble. As Aaron spends more time with the group — especially with Landon — he begins to feel a sense of belonging he never expected. Beneath Landon’s tough exterior, Aaron discovers a kindred spirit, someone who sees beyond his scars, both physical and emotional.
Through sleeplessness and late-night conversations, a connection sparks unlike anything Aaron has ever known. For the first time, he feels attracted to someone.
Just as Aaron begins to embrace his demisexuality, Landon’s difficult past resurfaces, threatening their fragile relationship. Torn between honouring his sister’s memory and staying with Landon, Aaron must decide where his true “Neverland” lies: in Australia or right where he is.
We May Be Fractured
Jessica Lascar © 2025
All Rights Reserved
There, against a dark, graffiti-adorned wall stood a guy enveloped in black clothes from head to toe. No hi-vis jacket on him; he was hiding in the shadows. The only betrayal of his anonymity was the eyebrow piercing that occasionally caught and reflected fleeting glimmers of the surrounding light.
Hands nonchalantly tucked into his oversized hoodie, the guy seemed uninterested in mingling, his eyes lazily scanning yet sharply observant of the surroundings. Aaron could relate; Maeve’s non-stop talking had turned into background noise for him too.
But something denser clung to the guy’s aura, a palpable indifference that he wore as one might a well-worn coat. When their eyes met, unlike Ria’s earlier warmth, he offered nothing but a chillingly detached stare.
“‘The Psycho,’” Maeve continued after catching his attention with a cough.
“What?” Aaron looked back at her, disoriented, having missed part of her conversation.
“That guy who just gave you a murderous look—they call him ‘The Psycho’. Best to steer clear if you want to stay safe. He’s completely nuts.”
“Don’t call him that,” Nyle interjected.
“Why not? Everyone saw how he lost it at the pub the other day, punching that dude just for glancing at Ria.” Maeve’s voice trailed off as the supervisor waved everyone closer with a languid hand.
“Gather ’round, kids.”
The group obeyed, forming a semicircle around her. It was then, amidst the shuffle, that Cliff locked eyes with Aaron, his expression twisting into a disgusted scowl.
“For the newcomers, I’m Sarah.” She half-heartedly pointed to a faded nametag on her jacket. “I’m here to make sure you do your job. As you can see”—she gestured around—“this care centre garden needs some serious attention. You’re all part of the community payback revitalisation project, and in the next few months, your goal is to revive this sad-looking place.”
“Our,” corrected the man standing behind her. “Our goal is to revive this place.”
Sarah shot him a bored, exasperated look. “Yeah, whatever…”
In stark contrast to her, the man radiated enthusiasm, his polished outfit oddly out of sync with the gardening project ahead.
“Hi, everyone, I’m Muhammad!” He greeted them with a wide grin and a self-aware chuckle as he smoothed down his well-combed hair. “I know I’m a tad overdressed, but trust me, I can get my hands dirty. We’ve got a bit of a mission ahead with these pesky weeds, cleaning up graffiti, and sorting out the old resting areas. This isn’t just any garden, okay? This patch of greenery holds a lot of meaning for the care centre. I think we can turn it around, make it a nice place again for everyone who needs it.”
Sarah, visibly unimpressed, interjected, “All right, let’s get organised. We’ll start with weed removal first. After that, some of you will help Mr. Fancy Gardener with the plants, while the rest will be on graffiti removal duty.”
Muhammad, gesturing towards a shed with lively enthusiasm, declared, “Everything you need is right in there. Kit yourselves out, and later this afternoon, I’ll lead the plant team.”
Fluttering her eyelashes, Maeve chimed in, “Fingers crossed I land in your squad, Muhammad.”
With an eye roll, Sarah retorted, “Enough. Grab your gloves and shovels, and let’s get moving, shall we?”
The group dispersed, each person showing different reactions about the work ahead. Maeve, though, had stopped, her attention drawn to a big withered tree in the centre of the garden.
“What’s wrong with that tree?” she asked.
Aaron, following her gaze, studied its pitiful state with its twisted branches, chipped bark, and curled leaves.
“That cherry tree?” Muhammad sighed. “No one knows. On the surface, everything seems okay with it, yet it clearly isn’t thriving. But despite its appearance, it still shows signs of life.”
“Can’t we do something to revive it?” asked Ria.
“We’ve tried, but nothing seems to work. You know, nature has its mysteries, and this tree keeps its secrets well.”
“We should get rid of it.” Cliff scoffed, giving the tree a disdainful once-over. “If this garden is meant to revive, then why keep this monstrosity right at the centre?”
“Well, it’s a commemorative tree, planted in memory of Lily, the late founder’s daughter. Unless it dies naturally, we’re not going to kill it,” Muhammad retorted, clearly on the defensive.
“It’s an eyesore. And it looks as good as dead anyway.”
Aaron silently agreed. The gnarled, twisted tree seemed well beyond salvation.
Sarah clapped her hands together. “All right, enough drama about that old tree. There’s an entire garden waiting.”
As everyone scattered to get to work, Cliff spared both Aaron and the tree another disgusted look. Aaron didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but Maeve beelined straight to Cliff, probably hoping to pry some juicy gossip about whatever was going on between the two of them.
Meanwhile, the guy in all black—‘The Psycho’—lingered, eyes glued to the tree. He stood there, all solitary-like amid the bustle, deep in thought before he quietly faded into the shadows.
“Bailey,” Sarah shouted at him. “Don’t make me beg every time, and put on the damn jacket!”
The guy stopped in his tracks, his face a fortress, giving nothing away. He didn’t look back at Sarah or say a word, just slipped on the jacket, keeping behind as everyone else marched ahead.
Aaron passed him and picked up one of the few shovels left. It didn’t take him long to figure out the others had snagged the better ones, leaving the scraps. So, he opted for the only shovel with an intact handle and without tape or string holding it together. But he stopped a few inches from grabbing it when heavy footsteps approached.
The Psy—Bailey—had caught up to him, and from the way he looked at the tools, Aaron could tell he wasn’t thrilled either. As Aaron reached for the shovel, the other guy did the same. However, Aaron, a split-second quicker, snatched it first.
“First come, first served,” Aaron taunted, gripping the handle firmly, refusing to be pushed around.
The guy said nothing, did nothing, but his stare was brutal enough to make Aaron step back. It was like a blade in his gut; that was how razor-sharp the vibe was. Still, Aaron held his ground, lifting his head slightly to meet the guy’s gaze, unshaken by the silent threat in those clear eyes.
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Born in Boston (USA) and raised in Naples (Italy), Jessica has always had a desire to explore beyond borders, leading her to live in Japan, the Netherlands, Germany, and now the UK. These experiences have given her a deep appreciation for different cultures and a sense of being a true citizen of the world.
Writing is her way of making sense of things—a space to explore the complexities of identity and belonging. During the pandemic, she rediscovered this passion, leading to the publication of her first YA novel in Italy, Love is a Mess, which won the Italian Wattys Award in 2021.
For the past 11 years, Jessica has called London home, and the city’s rich diversity inspires her to dive deeper into LGBTQ+ themes in her stories, with a special focus on the asexual spectrum, reflecting her own experience as demisexual.
When she’s not writing, Jessica brings her creativity to the fintech world as a digital product designer. She’s also on a mission to perfect the art of sourdough baking and stays busy as the chief tin-opener for her two cats.
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