by C Bradley
C Bradley (collective duo – Ciji and Alyvia Paige)
COPYRIGHT© 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Published by: C Bradley (collective duo – Ciji and Alyvia Paige)
Editing: Nikki Reeves, Southern Sweetheart Author and Book Services
Formatting: Brenda Wright, Formatting Done Wright
This book is intended for a mature audience of eighteen and older.
Tracy,
It’s because of you that we ran with the idea to turn our years of Twitter role playing storylines into an actual story within these pages. Thank you for being our biggest fan in the Twitter-verse. Your encouragement and participation have made all the years’ worth it!
xoxo,
Hannah and Brody
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue – Hannah
Chapter 1 – Hannah
Chapter 2 – Brody
Chapter 3 – Hannah
Chapter 4 – Brody
Chapter 5 – Hannah
Chapter 6 – Hannah
Chapter 7 – Brody
Chapter 8 – Hannah
Chapter 9 – Hannah
Chapter 10 – Brody
Chapter 11 – Hannah
Chapter 12 – Brody
Chapter 13 – Hannah
Chapter 14 – Hannah
Chapter 15 – Brody
Chapter 16 – Hannah
Chapter 17 – Brody
Chapter 18 – Hannah
Chapter 19 – Brody
Chapter 20 – Hannah
Chapter 21 – Brody
Chapter 22 – Brody
Chapter 23 – Hannah
Chapter 24 – Hannah
Chapter 25 – Brody
Chapter 26 – Hannah
Chapter 27 – Brody
Chapter 28 – Hannah
Chapter 29 – Brody
Chapter 30 – Hannah
Chapter 31 – Brody
Chapter 32 – Hannah
Chapter 33 - Brody
Epilogue
Authors’ Note
Acknowledgments
C Bradley
Everyone leaves at some point, it’s unavoidable.
Parents.
Friends.
Lovers.
I’m known for being independent, meticulous, and a control freak both personally and professionally. The only person you can wholly count on is yourself, or you’ll become susceptible to heartache and disappointment. That’s why I like having a plan, and he certainly isn’t a part of that.
But sometimes we have no control over the inevitable. Brody Lucas was the perfect storm I never realized I needed, luring me into his life like a moth to a flame.
His smile caught me.
His soul kept me.
– 6 years prior
Today is the day I’ve been waiting on for what seems like forever. While most embrace their college years, I’ve focused on succeeding and setting up my future. You definitely wouldn’t have caught me on party row. I pivot towards the mirror, swipe my favorite Lipsense color, Kiss Me Katie, across my lips, and then remove the extra-large hot rollers from my long tresses. I’ve always had shoulder-length hair, until college. Honestly, the hours available for primping became seemingly less and less between classes and studying, so I’d opted to grow my hair out. Quickly raking my fingers from root to tip, I comb through the curls. Once I feel like I’m presentable enough, I grab my keys and head out of the door. The drive to campus is only about fifteen minutes from my brand-spanking new apartment, which makes things so much easier. I slide into the passenger side of my Subaru, cross my legs at the ankle, and then tug the Carolina blue graduation gown down to eliminate the inevitable billowing at the waist, as Micah slips into the driver’s seat and navigates us to the designated graduate parking area.
Once we arrive, we make our way towards the crowded auditorium and quickly locate our group, which is the honors section. Most of my female peers are wearing dresses beneath these dreadfully hot costumes, but not me. Having to sit on this stage for three plus hours, overrules the “expected” attire. Oh yes, the graduation facilitators directed us that we were to don our business professional attire. Ms. Keck even distributed a three-page document of “Yes” and “No” appropriate wear with picture examples. No, thank you. It’s going to be a long ceremony, so I’m in khaki bermuda shorts and a blue tank top. Who am I here to impress? I’ve finished my education, and I did it with the distinction of Summa Cum Laude. Hence the honors group section I’m standing amidst. Micah James, my boyfriend and childhood best friend, will be sitting directly to my left holding the same honors.
To some, obtaining the highest educational honor is expected and to some it comes easy, but not for me. Nothing has ever been expected of me nor has anything ever come easy. Growing up, I learned early on that my sperm donor was a deadbeat. The skiver died by overdosing on heroin. Then there was my egg donor. Yeah, she wasn’t much better. She left me in a courtroom, when I was ten-years-old, and relinquished all her parental rights on the spot, exiting my life with only speaking a simple sentence of five words. “You’re not worth the hassle.” So, I learned quickly what it took to get along with my new “family.” A foster family, who coincidentally, lived just four houses away from the home I’d been abruptly detached from.
In hindsight, I suppose that was a positive because I didn’t lose everything. What I actually mean is I didn’t lose Micah. We have always been attached at the hip, and inevitably, we began dating. We’ve been to all the dances together, I cheered him on while he played football, and he cheered me on while I studied myself to a perfect GPA, earning me a full ride to the University of North Carolina. Back in high school, we were the Ken and Barbie of Wakefield High School with his dirty blonde hair and my honeysuckle brown locks. We were even voted most likely to get married first. There were also other random yearbook polls, like cutest couple and a few other unimportant titles that we never tried for, but we always seemed to attain.
Throughout college, we’ve stayed a couple, but lately, it feels like a means to keep each other focused more than anything. At least that’s what had happened, after our schedules and studies kept us to a relationship consisting of text messages and quick FaceTime chats in between classes and study groups. While Micah didn’t need to keep a perfect GPA, I had to because I was on a scholarship. All it would’ve taken was one semester, and I would’ve be eyeball deep in student loans or worse, removed from the program.
“Banana,” Micah whispers, as we stand idle, listening to the facilitators drone on and on in the same direction they’d practiced thirteen hours ago. Well, I guess we were pretending to listen, as it seems. Today, there is an angry fireball offering us 85 degrees o
f hellish heat, which is seeping into the auditorium, as the rest of the graduates walk in to take their places. Just yesterday, we enjoyed the early summer breeze, but now, we are literally sweating just standing in place. Mother Nature is quite the fickle bitch sometimes.
“Shhh,” I scold under my breath, before turning my head to admire his profile. Micah has a strong, angular jawline with a dip in his chin, and flawless tanned skin marred only by a dusting of his five o’clock shadow.
“You okay? You got a ‘lil bit distant for a second. You know like when your eyes go unfocused.”
I squint at him, and then quickly look away, when his crystal-clear baby blues lock onto my cocoa brown ones searching to find what I’m thinking about.
“You can’t read my mind by staring into my eyes, Micah.” I clear my throat just as he jabs a finger into my rib cage. Sharp pains barrage through my side and stomach, “Ah!” I squeal in surprise, as my face heats and a blush covers my neck and cheeks.
“Relax. The hard part’s over,” he chuckles.
“Seven more sleeps, before I leave.” Micah sighs, rubbing circles on my bare shoulders with his fingers. I sink back into the crook of his arm and stare up into the sky.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him.
“Yeah, I know. You always are. That’s the thing about you, Banana. You’re strong-willed, quick-witted, and a brutally honest person. Those are qualities most women, or men for that matter, don’t hold these days, but it doesn’t mean that I won’t still worry.”
“You’ll be fine too, babe. You’ll love law school, you’ll kill it on the bar exam, and I’m sure you’ll have a lot of smart, gorgeous women fawning all over you.” I smirk into his side, as he laughs.
“I’ll still call and text you. I’ll probably even stalk you on the Find Friends app.” His voice turns to gravel just before finishing his words. “But Hannah, I’m not leaving you. I’m just going away for a while. You’ll always be in here,” he continues, while patting his chest. “I’m not throwing you away, and I’m not breaking ties. We’re just moving forward.”
“Together, yet apart.” I hate the slight wobble in my voice, but just thinking of the one person who has been in my life the longest, even when he didn’t have to leaving me, has me a little emotional. Micah has always been my rock, and while college has proven us less romantic and friendlier towards one another at most, he is my person. “You’re my person.”
“Mhmm,” he agrees. “Until you replace me with your one. Nevertheless, you’ll always be my best friend. No one will ever replace that with us.”
“And you’ll always be mine.”
“No, worries. We’ll have the adjustment processed.” I pause, listening to the concerns of a senior level manager through the phone. “Yes, you too, Mr. Wellington. Have a great day.” Ending the call, I make a notation on my calendar blotter to remind my payroll staff to create a missed adjustment on someone’s compensation, when everyone returns to the office tomorrow.
It seems like just yesterday that I sat on the stage and walked to the far side accepting my college degree, but time truly flies, when you’re having fun. I landed myself an internship for a marketing firm my senior year of college, and then I was hired on after graduation. Human Resources is a very interesting place in the world of employment. I’ve been tried and tested, until finally making my way to the top of my department. Now, I’m working towards an ever more demanding and prestigious goal of becoming the head of this division. Excitement courses though my veins every morning, driving me to succeed.
When I look up again, the clock at the front of the office reads six o’clock. Where on earth did I lose two hours? My computer alerts me of my next scheduled meeting, Micah. I quickly pack up my laptop, a folder containing the start of my team’s personnel reviews, and my Yeti cup and make my way to the car.
I could almost kill Micah for insisting on this “healthy living” bullshit, which is the reason I have a meeting with him blocked out on my calendar every other day. I’m sorry that I’m the same person I’ve always been, ever since I was able to make choices. Choices that consist of Diet Coke, chocolate, sugar, sugar, and did I mention sugar. Oh, I also forgot carbs. Who the hell willingly cuts out the joys of life? Oh yeah, my best friend and the health-nut-freak-of-a-man, Micah. The same freak-of-a-man whose name is flashing on my phone screen, which I’m sure will resort to some type of demand that we go to the gym now.
Micah: Stop screening my calls Banana.
Micah: Gym. 8:00 p.m.
Micah: I’ll buy you a doughnut for breakfast tomorrow.
This makes me laugh loudly, as I walk to the parking lot, while reading the text messages that preview on my locked screen. Sold at doughnut! Once I’m safe and secure in my eco-friendly Forester, I unlock my phone to respond, but not before a ping alerts me of yet another text message.
Micah: Seriously? You’re still at work!?
Me: Hey stalker! It’s me, the prey.
Me: Calm your dick. Yes, that promotion guarantees me an additional shit ton of hours.
Me: I’m in for the doughnut btw.
Micah: Was it necessary for THREE messages? One would have sufficed.
Really? He sent way more than three messages to me. Tossing my cell to the passenger seat, I smile, as the song “Cake” by Flo Rida and 99 Percent filters through the speakers. Dancing in my seat, I cruise down the road giggling to myself just before screaming, “I only came for the cake!”
Once I’m home, I rush through my regular routine of clearing my face of all makeup, piling my locks into a messy bun on the crown of my head, and switching my work slacks and button down top to gym shorts, a sports bra, and racerback tank top. Sighing, I rummage through my drawer and find my last pair of dri-fit socks. Looks like tomorrow night is laundry night. Yay, Friday night laundry night. Can’t you just picture it now? That neon sign flashing “single lady” right above my head. I need to get out more, socialize, and get laid. God, I really miss the sex part. After my pity party disseminates, I find my sneakers and make my way from the bedroom at the back of the apartment to the living room just past the kitchen, which also serves as an entry way.
My place is small, but it definitely serves its purpose. It’s just enough space for me to comfortably live with a master bedroom, office, spare room, kitchen, and living room. I would have taken the unit on the second floor of the complex, but Micah needed a place to sleep, when he was home visiting through law school. Now that he’s graduated, taken and passed the bar, and started practicing at The James’ family law firm, which coincidentally granted him access to his trust fund, he no longer needs a place here, but it’s always available for him.
One hour into our cardio workout, and I’m fairly certain that I’m near death. My muscles feel as if fire is roaring rampant both inside and outside of my skin. I’m also fairly certain that I’ve sweat out every damn drop of water I consumed today. Actually, I think I’m starting to smell my own stink. I’m not going to be able to walk in the morning. Let alone wear my heels. Why am I torturing myself again?
“Gotta breath, Banana!” Micah offers his unsolicited advice with a smirk, and I turn my head to glare at his perfect form hardly even breaking a full sweat.
“I hate you!” I growl, but then it gets worse. Adding to my already embarrassing perspiration issues, it’s as if my life switches into slow motion. Mortification washes over me, as the entire gym witnesses what is going down in history, as one of the most epic gym accidents ever. Micah’s face morphs from smirking to horror just as my foot slips on the treadmill track, my body lunges forward, and arms shoot straight out in front of me in hopes to save the fall. Only it doesn’t help, and I go straight down.
“Oww,” I cry out refusing to even attempt to move.
“Oh shit, Hannah! Are you okay?” Micah’s concern laces his words.
“Peachy,” I moan and slowly turn my head to find my best friend damn near crying from holding back laughter. “Are you laughing at m
e?” I bark in agitation.
“It’s not intentional, Banana.” Micah heaves out just as a smile takes over his face. With his deep inset dimples full on display, he tries to speak again, even against my scowl. “I mean you looked just like Taylor Swift in that fucking Apple Music commercial.”
“I hate you!” I cry out again, when I see one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on approach us. Reinstate mortification, and there’s almost nothing worse than a beautiful, flawless woman approaching you, while you’re down and disgusting. “Why me?” I whine. “Why me?”
“Oh shit,” I hear the petite, pixie, blonde say, before she squats down to presumably check on me. “Are you...” she starts, but stutters a bit, and then restarts again. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just waiting for my pride to show up and carry me out of here. You know to wipe my memory of this hellacious trip to Satan’s asshole.” I whimper, while Micah laughs.
“What she means is that she will be fine. She just can’t seem to figure out how to run both her mouth and legs simultaneously.” Although his hand covers his mouth, the laughter still seeps out.
“I’ll murder you,” I seethe.
“Oh, Banana. Don’t make a threat you can’t follow through on. I mean who would represent you, if you did?”
“Micah, your humor isn’t helping right now,” I roll my eyes and tuck my chin, hiding the smile tugging on my lips.
“Well,” the pretty, blonde-haired woman clears her throat. “I’m Addison, one of the staff trainers. If you end up needing anything, let me know.”
“Thank you, Addison.” Micah’s voice caresses the words, as he peruses the personal trainer openly and unashamed. “I’ll remember that.” He gives her a wink, before standing to his full height.
“Micah,” I scold. “You’re so rude. Thanks Addison. You have to forgive him because he’s well just him I guess.” I let out a little laugh, and then pull myself up. Once I’m back on my feet, I offer her a hand. “I’m Hannah, and I’m not typically this clumsy. Well, not in public at least.” After staring at the interaction between Addison and I, Micah takes off to sanitize our treadmills all the while still laughing at me.
