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Authors: Heather London

Tags: #Contemporary romance

BOOK: Fall From Love
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When I finally
decided on the University of Colorado, I had no desire to stay in the dorms and
decided to put an ad on the university’s website, hoping to find a roommate.
Jenna replied a day later and, after meeting over coffee, something in my gut
told me she was a good person.

Three years later,
I’m still thanking my lucky stars that I found her and she’s in my life.

It was at the end
of my freshman year when I’d met Adam. He was my first in a lot of things and I
thought with all my heart that he would be my last. That’s probably why it hit
me so hard when he died. I hadn’t planned my life without him in it. Someone so
young and full of life couldn’t just be gone in the blink of an eye, could
they? Death was for the elderly, those who have lived and experienced all they
wanted from life, right?

The plans I made
for my future were always
our
plans. We had so many things we wanted to
do after we graduated. We talked about the adventures that we wanted to share
with each other. We talked about eventually getting married and having kids.
Adam was all about living, pushing yourself, and doing as many crazy, stupid
things as possible. So last spring, when he decided to sign up for the mountain
rescue team, it didn’t surprise me in the least. I was actually more surprised
that he hadn’t done it sooner.

Back then, it
always seemed like Adam and I would have time to do those wild and crazy things
together. Like we could do anything we wanted and didn’t have to rush because
we were only twenty-one and had our whole lives ahead of us. It wasn’t until
recently that I realized that life doesn’t work that way—that just because you
have dreams and make plans, it doesn’t mean that they will come true. I’ve
learned that life doesn’t wait on you.

 


 

My nerves are on
edge all morning, but I don’t realize just how bad until I look down and see my
hand shaking as I put my keys in my purse. It’s hard to pinpoint the thing I’m
most nervous about. It could be that I haven’t talked to any of my friends from
school in months, or the fact that the smell and sight of the campus causes
painful memories to resurface. There are many of my friends that had tried to
call me right after the accident, but I’ve done a pretty good job of laying low
and avoiding people… well, if that’s what you call holing up in your apartment
and never leaving it.

If it weren’t for
Jenna, I would’ve never survived the summer. I really have no idea how she put
up with me or how I am ever going to pay her back for all that she has done for
me.

Taking a deep
breath, I make my way up the set of stairs, pull open the door and then it hits
me.

It’s amazing how a
smell can bring you back. I shuffle my feet over a few steps to the left and
lean my head back against the wall. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to push the
memories out, but the last time I stood in this building comes rushing back to
me... the last day Adam was alive.

I was standing
in the middle of the hall, talking to a girl from my study group, when strong,
warm arms snaked around my waist. I didn’t even have to think about who it was;
I would know those long, lean arms from anywhere.

“Remember, don’t
be late... eight p.m. and not a second later,” Adam whispered as he kissed my
neck.

“Holly,” a distant,
yet familiar voice pulls me from my thoughts.

When I open my
eyes, I find myself staring into two large, sympathetic ones.

“Hi, Becca.” I
blink hard, trying to find my focus.

“You okay?” she
asks, reaching out for me, lightly touching my arm.

I nod. “Yeah, I’m
good.”

“So, what’s your
first class?” she asks, clearly trying to distract me.

“I don’t even
know.” I shake my head as I fumble around in my purse and pull out my schedule.

She sighs. “I’ve
got Dr. Langford. I hear he gives killer tests.”

My eyes scan across
the page and relief passes over me. “Looks like we’ll be miserable together, then.”
I smile timidly. Having Becca near me right now can only help distract my mind
from unhappy thoughts... or at least I hope she will.

“Really? This is so
awesome! It’s going to be so great. We have so much to catch up on. It’ll be
just like old times.”

I inhale deeply,
trying to take in her fast talking, perky voice. J
ust like old times
.
“Yeah, it will be great.”

The first day of
class isn’t too bad. Most of my professors seem really nice, except for Dr.
Langford. Though I’m only in his presence for a couple of hours, his reputation
for being a stickler on attendance and giving really hard tests precedes him.
The most encouraging part of my day is that I’m able to avoid all the
depressing questions I have feared and dreaded.

I cut across the
courtyard and make my way back to my car, eager to get home. When I pull out my
phone, I see two missed calls and two text messages. Both missed calls are from
my mom. I switch screens and see that one of the texts is from her as well.

Mom:
Call
me, please. We haven’t talked in a while. Can’t believe you’re a senior in
college! How did my baby grow up so quick?

My heart aches and
I tell myself not to let another day go by before I call her, but deep down, I
know that I probably will. It has been difficult to talk to my mom lately.
Every time I talk to her she has a pitied tone in her voice that reminds me of
when I was sick as a child, or when I was in elementary school and had a bad
day at school. It’s still difficult for my mom to get over the fact that I’m a
twenty-one-year-old woman and not five-years-old anymore.

My mom flew in and
stayed with me for a week right after the accident. She begged me, I don’t know
how many times, to come home and spend the summer in New York, saying that I
needed to be around family at a time like this. For some reason, though, I
wanted to stay home—my home in Colorado—my home with Jenna. Over the last few
years, Jenna has become my best friend, my sister; she is family to me. Still,
guilt fills me and I type a message back to my mom.

Me:
I’ll call
you soon, promise
.

The other text is
from Jenna and, the moment I read it, I’m unable to stop the grin from
spreading across my face, loving how well she knows just what I need at this
moment.

Jenna:
Dinner at
the casa. We r celebrating our senior year with a couple bottles of wine!

I exhale a long
breath and text her back.

Me:
Sounds
perfect. Do you want me to pick up something or are we ordering in?

Neither one of us
are great cooks, but we are both really good at ordering take out. Not a minute
passes before my phone chimes again.

Jenna:
I’m
cooking... and shut it. It will be better this time. You’ll eat it and you’ll
love it, or you’ll lie and tell me u do.

I laugh and slide
the phone back into my purse. The heaviness that has occupied my chest over the
last few months is still with me, but for the first time in a long time, it
feels a little lighter. It feels like I am going to be okay—that everything is
going to be okay.

 


 

After we’re done
with dinner, we open a second bottle of wine. It has been a long time since we
both have loosened up and had so much fun together; I’m only now realizing how
much I miss it.

“Seriously, Jenna,
that was some amazing food,” I say, filling her wine glass back up and then
mine.

“It was pretty
good, huh?” she agrees, clearly impressed with herself. “Okay.” She clears her
throat and raises her glass for her second
toast of the night. “Here’s
to our senior year, may it be full of epic memories.”

Our glasses clink
and I chuckle, feeling the effects from the first bottle of wine hit me like a
ton of bricks.

“What’s so funny?”
Jenna narrows her hazy gaze, or tries to, and that’s when I know she’s tipsy.

“Let’s see, your
first toast was for us to have as much wicked fun as possible this year, and
now it’s epic memories? Epic? Wicked? ” I laugh and repeat her choice of words.
“I don’t know; I’ve just never heard you say those things before.” Between her
excellent cooking skills and some new vocabulary, I wonder what other new
things I’ve missed about my best friend over the past few months.

A goofy smile
stretches across her face. “Yeah, I actually hate those words. It’s just
something I picked up from Josh. I’ve told him to stop saying them because it
makes him sound stupid and immature and here I am saying them, too.”

As soon as she
finishes talking, she curses under her breath and her eyes grow wide.

“Who’s Josh?” I
ask.

“Shit, Holly. I
didn’t mean to bring him up. It’s this stupid wine and we’ve been having such a
good time. It just slipped,” she rambles, meets my gaze, and an anxious look
appears on her face.

I raise an eyebrow,
wondering what she’s freaking out about. “Jenna, relax… All you did was mention
a guy’s name.”

“You’re right.” She
laughs nervously and rolls her eyes. “It’s stupid.”

“So who’s Josh?”
It’s obvious that she wants to drop the subject which just makes me more
curious.

“Um…” She hesitates
for a minute, licking her lips. “He’s just some guy I’ve been talking to.”

“What?! And you
kept this from me!?” My voice is louder than usual and I know it must be from
the wine.

Her face falls.
“Well, I just didn’t want to bring up a guy in front of you. I know you’re
still dealing, you know, with your own stuff. I may be a bitch, but I’m not a
cold hearted one.”

I fall back in my
seat. My heart stings when I realize what just happened. My best friend just
admitted that she has been intentionally keeping things from me—important
things. I used to be the first person she ran to when a new guy entered her
life.

“How long have you
been talking to him?”

She takes another
sip of wine and swallows hard before responding. “A few months.”

“Jenna! That’s the
longest you ever stuck with one guy.”

“Damn, Holly, stop
yelling.” Her hand flies to her head and she begins to rub circles around her
right temple. “All of your yelling is giving me a headache.”

I roll my eyes at
her dramatic tone. “
Sorry
, I just found out that my best friend has been
talking to a guy for months and didn’t tell me,” I say, trying to keep my voice
at a decent volume. “Doesn’t that break the code of best friends somehow? Our
code?”

When we were
freshman we made a pact to always be there for each other, no matter what—or
who—came between us. If I’m being honest, I totally botched that pact on my
end, something I feel really bad about.

She sighs and
swirls around her wine. Both of us watch it go round and round in her glass,
not able to meet each other’s eyes. Of course I understand why this topic is a
sensitive subject, but it still hurts that she’s keeping something like this
from me.

“I wanted to tell
you, Holly... believe me, but I wanted to give you some time to heal a little
more first,” she says finally.

I feel a tug at my
heart. “And I love you for that, but you’re not getting off that easy. I want
to hear all about him. He must be important to you if he’s lasted this long.” I
look up and meet her gaze.

“He is important,”
she says and a slow smile creeps across her lips. It’s like a switch is turned
on and love potion is freaking oozing out of her. “Well,” she begins, “his name
is Josh Abbott and he’s a student at CU. We met a few months ago at
Sterling’s—”

“Wait,” I interrupt
her. “Is that the guy you were hanging all over the other night?”

“I was not!” she
fires back, but the smile spreading across her face tells me that I’m right.

“He’s cute.” I smile.

“Yeah, he is, isn’t
he?” She sighs. “And not just that, but he’s sweet and fun and smart. And, oh,
my God, he loves to cook. On our first few dates he didn’t take me out, he
actually cooked for me at his house. No one has ever cooked for me! And now, he’s
teaching me to cook. Sure, he says stupid things like epic and wicked, but
he’s…” Her voice trails off when she realizes that she’s been gushing. “Oh God,
sorry. I shouldn’t be going on and on.”

“Don’t stop. I want
details.”

“You sure you’re
okay?” she asks, her face dripping with pity.

“Yes,” I say,
giving her a pointed look. “Now, don’t make me kick your ass. Continue telling
me all about your cute, amazing boyfriend, who loves to cook, says stupid
things like epic and wicked, and that you’ve been hiding from me for months.”

She gives me a
playful scowl and then takes a deep breath as she eases back into her chair. I
lean back and get comfortable, too; listening as she gushes about the guy she’s
been crushing on. It’s really crazy because I’ve never seen her so wrapped up
in a guy like this before. Usually, she’s with a guy for a couple weeks, he
ends up annoying her, she dumps him and then moves on to the next guy. It pains
me to know that she’s had to keep all this bottled up for so long.

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