Unglued (Holding On)

by Rachael Brownell

  Unglued

  The Holding On series

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Unglued (Holding On, #2)

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue | July 2012

  Chapter 1 | December 2011

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12 | June 2012

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14 | Present Day

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Find out how Becca | & Ethan’s romance ends... | through Ethan’s eyes.

  Weakness | Ethan’s Novella

  Chapter 1

  Rachael Brownell

  Unglued ~ book 2 in the Holding On series

  Copyright © 2014 by Rachael Brownell. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the author as provided by USA copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities, and incidents included in the story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, and entities is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United State of America.

  ISBN: 978-1499391022

  Dedication

  For my family and friends.

  Your support has meant the world to me

  Acknowledgements

  There are more than a few people who have made this book a reality. Most importantly, my family and friends who have supported me through the very challenging process of getting my books published and becoming an author. I cannot thank all of you enough. Your support means the world to me.

  Ardy, my sister-in-law, who read the book before I submitted it. Thank you for taking the time out of your incredibly busy life to give me some feedback. I’m sorry that I made you cry. (Twice!)

  To all the bloggers and my fellow authors...there are no words to describe just how thankful I am for all the support that so many of you have shown me. It is a true blessing to be a part of a community full of such wonderful and talented people. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Casey Bond—you have become such an important part of all of this for me. It’s the greatest feeling, knowing that there is someone I can talk to that completely understands what I am going through and who will take the time to listen to me rant. We are going to have to meet someday, because I feel like you and I will be great friends for a long time to come.

  Most importantly, I want to thank the readers. Without you, there wouldn’t have been a second book in the series. I hope you enjoy reading the book as much as I enjoyed writing it for all of you. Becca and Ethan’s story has just begun, and I hope to eventually share with all of you their happily ever after. Thank you for taking a chance on me.

  Prologue

  July 2012

  I was staring in the mirror when I heard him walk in. I was expecting my mom, but I was not expecting him. I was about to turn around when his scent surrounded me completely, and my body froze up. I tried to play it off like I hadn’t heard him enter by adjusting my dress in the mirror one more time. My body starts to react to his the closer he gets to me, and for a brief moment, I think that I might faint. I close my eyes and hope that when I have the strength to open them again, that he will have been an illusion.

  He wasn’t supposed to be here. Last I knew he was in England. I’m well aware that my mom and some of our friends still speak with him on a regular basis. I would hope that if anyone knew he was coming home that they would mention it to me. Common courtesy. Common decency.

  My mom was supposed to take my side after everything that happened. She, however, remained neutral, which naturally caused some friction between us that we finally have moved past. Our friends, well, I expected most of them to remain neutral, and most of them did, or at least they never mentioned it. It would have been wrong of me to ask them to choose a side. There was no point anyway. I was here and he was there. I didn’t have to worry about running into him at parties or anything like that.

  He’s standing right behind me now, and as much as I want to continue to ignore him, I can feel him staring at me in the mirror. I haven’t opened my eyes yet because I know that if I do, I will be unable to avoid making eye contact. I don’t know if I will be able to survive making eye contact with him.

  We didn’t part on the greatest of terms, and I haven’t spoken to him since. It’s been over six months, 197 days to be exact, but the pain has only begun to dull. Normally, I have enough strength to ignore it, but today, I am feeling everything. My emotions are already running the spectrum, and his presence is causing them to run even faster. I can’t decide if I’m scared to open my eyes or angry because he’s here.

  I take a few deep breaths, and just as I’m about to open my eyes, I feel his hands on my hips, and my eyes shoot open. He’s staring at me, I’m staring at him, and although there are no words between us, a lot is being said in those first few moments.

  I can see his eyes darken with lust as he pulls my body closer to his. He’s intertwined our fingers across my stomach, and I can feel his pulse racing under my thumb. I also see the love that he still carries with him. He’s not trying to hide it.

  I wonder if he can see the love that I still have for him. I wonder if he can feel it. I feel everything right now. I feel sad and happy and confused and scared. I wonder if he can see all that. I hope not. I hope he sees nothing when he looks in my eyes. My biggest fear is that he’ll be able to break right through the carefully constructed walls that I’ve erected around my heart. I’m afraid that if he breaks through them that I will get hurt again, that I’ll hurt him again.

  We have yet to break eye contact, and the longer I allow him to hold me, the weaker my knees are going to get. For every ounce of fear I’m holding on to right now, I’m also holding on to twice as much love. I feel like a puddle of mush on the inside. My heart is racing, and my stomach feels like there are about a million butterflies trying to escape.

  I have dreamt about this moment for so long. I’ve wanted him to hold me like he used to. I’ve wanted to feel his strong arms wrap around me, his breath on my neck as he kisses that sweet spot behind my ear that I love so much. I never thought this day would come, and now that it’s here, I don’t know how to react.

  My body is telling me one thing, and my mind is telling me another. I have to stop this. I have to get out of this embrace before someone else comes in the room. I have to pull away before I am never able to break free of him. My brain is allowing the pain to break free, and all I can think about is how he left me.

  My mind is telling my body all these things, but my body decides to betray my mind. Instead of pulling away, I sink further into his arms. I rest my head back against his chest, and he tightens his told on me. I want to nuzzle into his neck. I want to pull his face down and kiss him. I want to get out of this dress and run away...

  That’s when my brain finally takes full control and I pull away. He ran away from me. He left me. He broke off our engagement. I may not have been perfect, actually I was far from it, but I admitted my mistakes. He was supposed to forgive me. He was supposed to love me unconditionally. He was supposed to be my best friend, my soul mate, “the one.”

  It took
me months of crying and beating myself up to finally move on in my life. He has no right barging in here—today, of all days—and decide to forgive me now. I forgave myself a while ago, and I don’t need his forgiveness anymore. I am with someone who wants to be with me, broken pieces of my heart and all. He is not allowed to do this to me.

  “I can’t do this. Not today, and not any time soon.”

  I tried to sound as sure and as bold as I could muster. I was not going to allow myself to cry, especially not in front of him. I would consider them wasted tears. I wasted tears on him for months before I realized that I needed to move on. I may always love him, but I would not shed another tear because of him.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for...everything. I know—”

  “Stop. I really can’t hear this right now. You shouldn’t be here. You are supposed to be on another continent right now, not standing next to me in my room.”

  I know that the way I said it must have made a statement because he actually took two steps back. I wasn’t yelling. I wasn’t even trying to sound mean at this point, although I’m sure that I did a little. I was just trying to get my point across, and I think that I made myself perfectly clear.

  “I came back this morning. I needed...wanted to be here today, for you. I wanted to make sure that you are all right. I’ve always tried to be there for you.”

  “Except when I really needed you to be! Except when I needed you to forgive me, so that we could move on with our life together!”

  Now I’m screaming. I know that the right thing to do is to have this conversation. It’s long overdue, and it would put an end to everything that I have been internalizing since he left. Yes. I need to have this conversation with him, but there was no way I was going to be able to just talk with him right now. Right now, all I want to do is yell, because the anger that’s been building has taken over.

  “I needed you then. I have needed you for the past six months. I needed you to be the person I fell in love with when I told you how I felt, when I told you what happened.”

  I can see the sorrow on his face. I can see the fact that I’ve hurt him with my words. At that moment, I really didn’t care. I needed to get to the church. I needed to get out of that room and find the strength to move on with my life, because at that moment I was questioning everything, and I didn’t like the way it was making me feel.

  I grabbed my purse off my bed and stormed past him. My mom is sitting at the bar in the kitchen waiting for me with a tentative smile. When I don’t return her smile, she picks up her purse and follows me out the door. My car is blocked in by his, maybe his way of preventing me from leaving, but my mom’s is parked on the street. I jumped in the car and waited patiently for her to catch up to me.

  The drive to the church is quiet. My heart hasn’t stopped racing since he walked into my room, I’m not sure if it ever will, and it’s all I can hear, all I can feel. I can feel it breaking more and more the closer we get to the church. The combination of what just happened and what’s about to happen is going to cause it to shatter completely.

  I need air, fresh air. It’s over one hundred degrees today so I dare not roll down the window and let the AC out. I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate. My breathing has become erratic, and I can’t stop shaking. My heart is pounding in my chest, and it feels like it might break out. I’m starting to sweat, and just as a bead trickles down the back of my neck, I bend forward and puked up my breakfast. I barely miss my shoes and my dress somehow.

  Without saying anything at all, I felt my mom pull the car over. I heard her get out, and the next thing I know, my door is opening. I can feel her unbuckling my seatbelt and pulling me out, but I’m not really there. I stand against the side of the car and just stared off into space. I’m not sure what I was looking at, or where we were, but a moment later, I was being ushered back into the now puke-free car and handed a bottle of water.

  As we pulled up to the church, I popped a couple mints and stepped out of the car. I smoothed out my dress and held my head high as I walked in the side door to where I knew friends and family were waiting. I felt nothing at that moment. My emotions were stowed deep down, and I was going to do everything I could to keep them there today. Nothing was going to unnerve them. I was going to be strong. I’ve been putting on a show for everyone for so long now, I was sure no one would notice. Fake smile, check.

  We visited for a short amount of time before the pastor came to summon everyone. I quickly pulled my veil down and found my mom. As we walked up the center aisle, I feel those emotions begin to creep up and try to overwhelm me again. I held my head a little higher and looked straight ahead and found him, my rock. His face was warm and welcoming and calmed me just a little.

  “Why, Mom?” I whisper. “Why did you call him and ask him to come?”

  “I didn’t, I swear. I haven’t spoken to him in almost two months. He stopped calling when I told him that I thought you had moved on. I was just as surprised as you when he showed up today.”

  “If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

  “I don’t know, Becca, but does it really matter right now?”

  I knew she was right. It didn’t matter today, and it probably wouldn’t matter tomorrow. Whoever called him had every right. It wasn’t my place to keep him away from his home. He was free to visit whenever he wanted to. Today, of all days, was no exception. Was he here right now, though? I want to turn around and find out, but I don’t. I need to focus and the only way I am going to be able to do that is to keep my eyes lock on his.

  Everything is going to be just fine. I keep repeating that to myself the rest of the way to the front of the church, and by the time we reach the end of the aisle, I almost believe it. If I hadn’t broken eye contact and looked down at my dead friend, I would have fallen for my own lie. It’s at that moment that I come completely unglued.

  Crap!

  Chapter 1

  December 2011

  Just staring at the mess that was in front of me was starting to freak me out a little. My planner is highlighted every color of the rainbow with a dozen dates circled. This was gonna be a crazy month, and I didn’t even know where to begin.

  My birthday is tomorrow, and I needed to clean the house for the guests that we were having over. Brad’s birthday is next week. I have finals to study for at some point during all of the celebrating, and Ethan is graduating in two weeks. The overachiever that he has become is graduating after only three and a half years of college, instead of four like most normal people.

  After that comes the holidays, and this year is our year to host the New Year’s Eve party. I was going to need to take January off just to catch myself back up on sleep. Of course, that’s not possible, so I am just gonna have to make the best of things as usual.

  One thing at a time. First, I need to clean this house: kitchen, main floor bathroom, living room, and the back patio. Let’s not forget the growing pile of dirty clothes on the floor of our bedroom. I love Ethan to death, but he is not really great at picking up after himself.

  All those years, his parents paid someone else to clean and do laundry; they never really taught him to take care of himself. Without me following behind him, picking up the clothes he tosses everywhere, loading the dishwasher, putting the toilet seat down, he would be living in a sea of dirty everything.

  Laundry. Okay, let’s separate the whites and darks and get this show on the road. I grab my iPod, hit the shuffle button on some new music that I just downloaded, and crank the volume just high enough to drown out everything around me. Tackling the house, the cleaning, the laundry, exams, and my life seems to be just a little easier when I have some good music to drown out all the static that tends to surround me.

  I get the whites in the washer, and headed back to get a load of towels and sheets to go in next. I stripped our bed and the guest bed, throwing the dirty sheets into the hallway to create a new pile. I stared at the naked bed knowing what has to come next, and I can feel the dr
ead starting to brew inside of me. I slowly backed out of the room and walked the ten feet down the hall to the linen closet. I opened it up and stared at the sheets that are sitting on the shelf that is just above my shoulder.

  This should be an easy task: grab the sheets, and head back to the room to make the bed. For me, this is the hardest part of cleaning the house. I always get it out of the way first so that I can take out my frustration on the rest of the house, scrubbing and cleaning, but it never really gets any easier. It never makes me stronger. It never takes away the dread of this moment.

  I’ve thought about putting the sheets on a lower shelf just to avoid the anger that begins to well up inside of me, but I would consider that cheating. I will always tackle anything that’s thrown my way head on, I promised myself that last spring. I will not run from a challenge, and I will not back down. This is my life, and I will not let this one thing define who I am.

  Who was I kidding? I wanted to cheat, and reach up with my left hand, and pull the sheets down, and I almost do, but I stop myself. I need to do this because I need to prove to myself that it gets easier every time. It may not feel like it gets easier but it does, it has to, it will eventually. So I reached up with my right hand, and just as I’m about to get to the sheets, I feel a bolt of pain run straight from my hand to my shoulder, and I instinctively pulled my hand back down. I will get these damn sheets if it takes me all day.

  I have to walk away. Getting all worked up and angry doesn’t do me any good. I headed back to the guest room, and grabbed the vacuum out of the closet. This I can do without fearing pain, without fearing my inability to complete a simple task. This I have mastered over the last seven months so that I don’t feel the pain. So I vacuumed the entire upstairs, dreading the painful moment that I will have to return to the linen closet and pull down those sheets. I should just use my left hand and get it over with.

  By the time the entire upstairs was cleaned, bathroom and all, I can almost hear the linen closet calling my name. I spend what feels like forever staring at those sheets again, and know that I need to keep moving and finish cleaning the house. I have a ton of things still to accomplish, and I can’t let this get the best of me. I am stronger than that.