The Fourth Time Charm: A Friends to Lovers Romance

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The Fourth Time Charm: A Friends to Lovers Romance Page 1

by Maya Hughes




  The Fourth Time Charm

  Maya Hughes

  Copyright © 2020 by Maya Hughes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Najla Qamber, Qamber Designs

  Cover Image: Rafa Catala

  Editors: Dawn Alexander, Sarah Kremen-Hicks, Sarah Kellogg

  To Dawn! Now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting go! :-P

  Contents

  1. LJ

  2. Marisa

  3. Marisa

  4. LJ

  5. Marisa

  6. LJ

  7. Marisa

  8. Marisa

  9. LJ

  10. Marisa

  11. LJ

  12. Marisa

  13. LJ

  14. Marisa

  15. Marisa

  16. LJ

  17. Marisa

  18. LJ

  19. Marisa

  20. LJ

  21. Marisa

  22. LJ

  23. Marisa

  24. LJ

  25. Marisa

  26. LJ

  27. Marisa

  28. LJ

  29. Marisa

  30. LJ

  31. Marisa

  Epilogue

  The End

  Want More Maya Hughes?

  1

  LJ

  When I found the buzzing thing buried in my blankets, I’d launch it out my window.

  Marisa always told me to put my phone into night mode after ten o’clock, but I hadn’t listened. And I’d make sure to never let her know she’d been right.

  Usually, my phone sat on the shelf by my bed, but I’d fallen asleep studying for finals while icing the growing bruise on my thigh. At least there were only three spring football practices left before summer break—I’d finally be off Coach Saunders’s shit list for a while.

  Why wouldn’t the buzzing stop? My arms and legs were lead logs weighing my blankets down. Off-season weight training and practices sucked so much more than any hell week during the season.

  Following my charging cable, I found my phone and saw notifications of five missed calls on the screen.

  My heart rate spiked. The calls were from an unknown number. Was it the hospital? Had something happened to my dad?

  Before I could tap the number, the phone jumped in my hand. I answered before the first ring.

  “Hello?”

  Sirens blared and truck engines rumbled and roared nearly drowning out the voice. I slammed my hand over my ear like it would help to block out all the background noise on the other end of the line.

  A cleat spike slammed into my heart.

  “LJ?”

  “Marisa?” I shot out of bed and struggled to shove my jeans on. “What happened? Where are you?”

  “Fire…my apartment…ambulance.”

  I strained to hear her over the power washer on steroids—no, it must be the fire hoses.

  “I’m on my way. I’m coming!” I shouted into the receiver, not even sure if she could hear me. I buttoned my jeans, grabbed a t-shirt from my hamper and snagged some sneakers off the floor.

  Rushing out of my room, I tucked my sneakers under my arm and wrestled with my t-shirt.

  “Dude, where’s the fire?” Reece rubbed his eyes, stepping out of his bedroom.

  “At Marisa’s.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I told her that apartment was a piece of crap. I should’ve found her somewhere better to live.” My sneakers dropped. I tugged my shirt all the way on.

  “Your shoes don’t match.” He said it like that was the most shocking thing we were dealing with right now. “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going there now.” I pulled on one sneaker, grabbing onto the railing so I didn’t fall and break my damn neck. Fear for Marisa clogged my throat and made it hard to focus.

  I needed to get to her. I needed to see her. I needed her to be okay.

  Sitting on the bottom step, I shoved my foot into the mismatched shoe and grabbed my key from my pocket.

  Sweat beaded on my skin. I jumped from the top of the porch steps and scrambled onto the sidewalk, taking off for my car half a block away. If anything happened to her, I’d lose it.

  I flicked on the headlights, rocketing down the empty street.

  I got stuck at a deserted red light and banged my hands against the wheel, willing the damn thing to change. What the hell? It was three in the morning.

  After two hour-long minutes, I vibrated in my seat, checked each way at least twice, and said screw it. I peeled out through the empty intersection, tires screeching.

  In the distance, the smoke wafted into the air and flames glowed against the dark sky. The top floor of her five-story apartment complex peeked from behind the trees. A grenade of fear detonated in my chest and panic rose, blocking out everything but one thought: get to Marisa.

  I gunned it the rest of the way. I reached the end of a long line of firetrucks and ambulances and nearly forgot to put the car into park. People stood on the sidewalks watching the apartment complex smolder and burn.

  Out of breath like I’d been running wind sprints for an entire practice, I rushed up to someone talking into a radio.

  “Marisa Saunders.” I gasped, gulped for air. “Marisa Saunders. She called me and asked me to come get her.”

  The guy looked me up and down, talked into the radio on his shoulder and interpreted whatever came through as a squawk. “Ambulance #304. It’ll be on the side and back doors of the ambulance.”

  “Is she okay?”

  Sprays of water from the hoses blasted the air with mist and steam. The oranges and yellows danced in the air, embers and ash falling to the ground closer to the building. Had everyone made it out of there? The flames were mesmerizing, the heat warming the air and beating back the early spring chill.

  “I don’t know. They’re checking all the residents for smoke inhalation. There have only been a few who’ve had to go to the hospital so far.”

  Panic gripped my chest, making it even harder to breathe than the smoke burning my eyes and lungs had managed.

  I ducked under the yellow tape and rushed into the melee and confusion. Dodging people and shuffling and stumbling over cables and gear, I spotted the ambulance.

  The back doors were open and there was someone on the gurney. Bare feet poked out from under a blanket. EMTs were on either side of the figure, but I couldn’t tell what they were doing. Did she need oxygen? A burn bandaged?

  Was it even Marisa?

  The EMTs leaned back and she sat up.

  She was wild haired and sooty faced, and she’d never been more beautiful. My heart triple jumped and I had to lock my knees so I didn’t collapse.

  Her gaze swept over the crowd and stopped on me. With a watery smile, she flung off the blanket and jumped out of the ambulance, ignoring the EMTs yelling after her.

  I opened my arms.

  She slammed into my chest, nearly knocking me over. I steadied us both and wrapped my arms around her.

  “Are you okay? Are you okay?”

  She squeezed me tight, resting her chin on my shoulder. A shiver rolled through her body and she held me even tighter. “Scared shitless for a while there. There’s no way we could’ve jumped from the fifth floor.”

  I shuddered not even wanting to think about the danger getting any closer than it already had. “You’re coming home with me, Risa. Are yo
u okay?”

  She nodded, her chin knocking into my shoulder.

  I rubbed her back and squeezed my eyes shut. She smelled like the homecoming bonfire without the s’mores to soften the harsh edges of the scent. She’d been close to the fire—so close she was covered in soot.

  I held her snug against my chest until she loosened her hold and pulled back. “What took you so long?” Her punch to my shoulder made me laugh. “I’m freezing.”

  “Only about six firetrucks, some police, and a stoplight that refused to change.”

  “The one on Hawthorne?” Her teeth chattered and she stared at the building.

  “Yeah. I hate that fucking light.”

  The orange glow from the fire painted one side of her face. The other remained harshly shadowed by the light from the ambulance, which already had someone else in it. “It added another five minutes, didn’t it?”

  “It would’ve, if I hadn’t run it.”

  “You did freaking not.” She shoved at my shoulder.

  “I did.”

  At least the fire hadn’t kept her from jumping back into her normal role as a pain in the ass.

  “What, was there a fire or something?” The corners of her mouth twitched and her gaze flew to the building where the flames reached even higher. “Oh yeah, I guess it’s okay then, I’ll allow it.” She laughed, but the laugh turned into a cough and her eyes sharpened with panic.

  Fear washed over me and I held onto her shoulders.

  “Is she okay?” I looked over her shoulder to the EMTs who were already focusing on someone else.

  She looked at me out of the corner of narrowed eyes. “Must have been some ash. I’m good. Chill the hell out.”

  Even thinking that was possible after I’d found her in the back of an ambulance was insanity.

  The fine mist from the hoses made any body part not facing the charred building a hell of a lot colder. I didn’t have anything for her. I should’ve stopped for a second and brought her a coat or sweatshirt. Or a blanket, or spare shoes—anything.

  Shifting to face the ambulance, I asked again. “Will she be okay?”

  “She’s good. No singeing of the hair in her nose.”

  Marisa mumbled under her breath, “yippee.”

  “But she’ll need a shower and her clothes need to go.”

  She shivered again and wrapped her arms around herself. Her lips were pale and she kept watching the flames.

  My one objective had been to see that she was safe and now that I had, the list of other things she needed was getting long.

  Marisa pulled her phone out of her pajama pants and sent a text. “I need to find Liv.”

  “You have your phone! Why the hell did you call me from an unknown number?”

  She wore a mildly pained look. “I forgot I had it.”

  I held onto her shoulders and shook her. “You forgot you had your phone?”

  “No need to get grumpy. I could’ve died in that fire, remember?” She pointed at the building still engulfed in flames.

  “Do you think anyone died?” she whispered, looking over at me.

  Her phone screen lit up and she answered. “Liv, where are you? Are you okay?”

  She paused, pushing her phone tighter against her ear. The buzz of Liv’s voice was barely audible on the other end of the line.

  “Outside now. LJ is here, and he’s about to get his ass kicked. He’s hovering like I’m going to drop dead at any second.”

  I wasn’t hovering.

  Marisa put her hand over her phone. “She said they just finished checking her out and she sounds good.”

  We walked along the line of ambulances parked in the mini-triage set up on the street. A few ambulances cranked on their sirens and took off for the closest hospital.

  “You shouldn’t have been in that apartment.”

  “Not this again.” She rolled her eyes, still shivering and chattering. “It was all I could afford, and it was a fine place to live. Well, until…” Her gaze darted to the fire, which reflected in her eyes.

  “Liv offered to pay more than half the rent. You two could’ve gotten a better place together.”

  “I’m not a mooch. Just because she has money doesn’t meant I’m going to take advantage.”

  “I could’ve helped.”

  “Again, not a mooch. Plus, you wouldn’t be stealing lunch meat from the dining hall if you were rolling in enough extra dough to pay my rent.”

  This time her stubbornness had literally almost gotten her killed.

  We walked past the rows of ambulances, checking for Liv. Marisa unmuted her phone pressed against her ear. “I can hear what she’s hearing.” She sped up, rushing forward.

  The back doors of an ambulance opened and a vaguely familiar big guy stepped out, holding out his hand and holding onto it was Liv, Marisa’s roommate. Then it clicked into place. Ford. Liv’s maybe-boyfriend had made it here too.

  Marisa dashed toward Liv and nearly tackled her like she had me. “I was so worried when you disappeared.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  “Stop crying—you’ll make me cry, and then he’ll lose it again. He’s trying to get me to go back to The Brothel, but I’m not leaving you here.”

  I did not lose it. “Liv can come too.”

  “It’s okay. I know the football house is cramped as it is. I’m going to go with Ford.” Liv looked over her shoulder at the man.

  He straightened. It wouldn’t be the first time Ford had swooped in to save Liv—at least she wasn’t drunk off her ass like she’d been at the last party she attended at The Brothel. There was no way he’d made it through the night without a puke christening from her.

  Marisa shot Liv a look.

  Ford stared down at her. “She’s coming with me. You can too, if you need to.”

  My hackles rose. Did he think I wouldn’t take care of her? I might not’ve had a pro athlete salary to flash around and fix everything—yet—but I could still make sure she was okay. Getting Marisa to my place was my number one goal. Get her warm, showered, and into bed. To sleep. Purely for sleeping.

  “I’m good. I’ll go with LJ.” Marisa eyed Liv, ducking her head. “Are you sure?”

  Liv held on tighter to Ford’s arm. “I’m sure.”

  “Then I’ll see you on campus? We need to figure out a more permanent living situation and what the hell we’re going to do about our stuff...” Marisa stared up at the death trap that was once her building.

  “Let’s just get through the night and figure everything else out tomorrow. I need to take a shower. I reek of smoke.” Liv tugged at her t-shirt.

  They said their goodbyes and I walked her back toward my car. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms away from the wet, dirty ground, but it would’ve been like trying to carry a feral cat.

  Her steps were slow and heavy. The adrenaline crash was hitting her hard.

  I wanted to take her hand, but instead I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and guided her through the swarm of people who’d descended to stop the blaze and take care of everyone who’d been displaced. She didn’t need any of them now—she had me.

  I opened the door for her, and the fact that she let me showed me how tired she truly was. Normally, she’d rush around to the other side of the car before I got the chance to open it.

  I slid into my seat, the adrenaline wearing off. “You can sleep in my bed tonight. I can take the couch.”

  She yawned and rested the back of her head against the window, while looking over at me. “I can take the couch of death. After I crash, it’s going to take a marching band shooting fireworks to wake me up.”

  “You need a good night’s sleep. You’re sleeping in my bed.” Saying the words out loud, a rev of desire streaked through me. The adrenaline rush of getting to her and knowing she was safe had faded, now there was a different feeling humming through my veins.

  She rolled her eyes. “So bossy. I need a shower and then I can fight you on this. You n
eed your bed. You’ve got practice tomorrow.”

  “I don’t care. We’ve shared a bed before.”

  Instead of fighting me, she closed her eyes.

  Good it was settled. Shit, it was settled. I was sleeping next to Marisa tonight.

  We got back to the townhouse, one of a row of houses just off campus in various states of repair or neglect. Ours had been one of the more popular frat houses, until the frat had been booted for too many rule violations.

  The house had been kept up nicely with all those frat dues, but the name they’d given it had stuck: The Brothel. Their other enduring legacy was the way that the house sprung parties like a leaky barrel when we least expected it.

  The street was quiet; it was too late for even the weeknight party warriors. I pulled into the spot I’d vacated less than an hour ago.

  I turned off the ignition and leaned back in my seat, rolling my head to the side to watch her.

  Her lips were parted, and a gentle snore rumbled in her throat.

  The streetlights haloed the nest of her hair. She was here and she was safe. I’d only been more scared once in my life, and I never wanted to feel that way again.

  I could’ve lost her. Shoving those feelings aside, I focused on what she needed right now. A shower and real sleep.

  Wrapping my fingers just above her knee, I squeezed the spot twice.

  She jolted awake, her head whipping around.

  “We’re here.” She must have been exhausted, because I made it to her door before she could open it.

  “I had it,” she grumbled and hopped out. “My toes are freezing.” She wiggled them against the hard, dark concrete.

  I glanced down at her bare feet. If I offered to carry her inside, she’d probably punch me in the balls, so I bit the inside of my cheek, watching for glass or splintered wood on the porch steps.

 

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