The Brightness Duet: Complete Series Boxset

by Bri Stone

  The Brightness Duet: Complete Boxset

  The Brightness Series, Volume 2

  Bri Stone

  Published by Bri Stone, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE BRIGHTNESS DUET: COMPLETE BOXSET

  First edition. February 26, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Bri Stone.

  Written by Bri Stone.

  The Brightest Night

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Perrie

  Thom

  Chapter One: Perrie

  Chapter Two: Thom

  Chapter Three: Perrier

  Chapter Four: Thom

  Chapter Five: Perrier

  Chapter Six: Thom

  Chapter Seven: Thom

  Chapter Eight: Perrie

  Chapter Nine: Thom

  Chapter Ten: Thom

  Chapter Eleven: Perrie

  Chapter Twelve: Perrie

  Chapter Thirteen: Perrie

  Chapter Fourteen: Thom

  Chapter Fifteen: Perrie

  Chapter Sixteen: Thom

  Chapter Seventeen: Perrie

  Chapter Eighteen: Perrie

  Chapter Nineteen: Thom

  Chapter Twenty: Perrie

  Chapter Twenty-One: Perrie

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Thom

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Perrie

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Perrie

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Perrie

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Thom

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Perrie

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Thom

  Copyright

  COPYRIGHT © 2019 by Bri Stone.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations included in critical articles and reviews. For information, please contact the author. Printed and bound in United States of America. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Editing by Lindsay Schwab and Hannah Bauman

  Dedication

  For everyone, especially those who hurt and those who think they are broken.

  Perrie

  DOCTOR HARRISON DIDN’T have anything remotely exciting to say to us.

  I expected more, I mean, we are ‘the future of medicine’ after all. I expected a Shonda Rhimes worthy speech, but all we got was—

  “There’s nothing special about any of you. Yes, you have given up the better part of your lives to save others. But that just means most of you will finish your residency, regret missing your twenties and become drunkards. Others may actually do something meaningful. I am excited to see, who is who.”

  He smiled without humor, making him look sort of evil, far from a doctor, at least. He was tall and thin, his salt and pepper hair was thick and wavy, he must go to a salon to make it look so good. He was probably good looking when he was younger; the creases in his face showed his age and experience. It was a dream to even be in his class. Probably why I was in the front row.

  “Any who; I’m sure many of you will be gone tomorrow, half of you by the nine-week term. So, let us begin.”

  The fear of the room clouded over so dark I felt it, but I was still so excited.

  I knew this would be way tougher than undergrad, but I was ready for it. Built for it. I mentally separated myself from everyone else in the room to focus on my own path.

  We all have our intended specialties, our plans. Like Harrison said, most of us will change our minds. Not me. I know, how boisterous of me to assume I was above everyone else.

  I grew up watching all the crime shows and reading the crime novels, and sleep without any nightmares. It was just a fascination then, I expected I would work as a researcher or something.

  Until high school.

  Mom died in her sleep. Doctors ran test after test, she was cut open three times. They found nothing. I became obsessed with death and what happened after. Dad told me, ‘Things just happen. We have to live for her now.’ I said, ‘Dad, don’t you see? There is no living without understanding the dead’.

  I set my eyes on forensic pathology. I studied every important name, every case the big guns ever did. I knew it was for me. I decided back then that no one deserves to feel how I felt. No explanation, and no answers as to why my mother was just gone.

  Death is not the final step. It’s why.

  I wanted to give families the closure they need. I tell them they can rest easy, because there is a reason there loved one is gone. Things don’t just happen. There is a reason for everything.

  I want to tell their last story, the most important one.

  So, while most people in the first-year seminar of UCSF medical school plan to save lives, I plan to put together the pieces of every puzzle that falls through their hands.

  Thom

  HARRISON AND I WERE not going to get along.

  The man is a prick, and he would rather be anywhere but here.

  He screamed it. I suppose I would be the same way if I had to teach a class full of people that probably wouldn’t be here in month. However, if I had to wake up at six in the morning, and act like I wanted to be there, he should too.

  Now maybe I was a cocky bastard, but I wasn’t like these people. I’m not backing out, and I’m not quitting. Still, I’d rather fast forward through the next nine years, but it doesn’t work that way.

  I know it’s going to be hard and I will lose way more sleep than I did in undergrad, but it is what I signed up for.

  It is sort of an amazing thing, that everyone in here has chosen the lives of others over their own. I liked to think it’s what I did, but it isn’t. Not really, anyway.

  In the beginning, it was for me. To understand my disease. Then I realized it would take too damn long. If I could keep other kids from growing up like me, then I would.

  I studied the heart and lungs through videos and over-done Hollywood shows. I begged mom to splurge for a suture kit, and Operation was the only game I ever played. I dreamed of holding two of the most important body parts in my hand. I was ready for it. Built for it. The twelve-year, post high school education didn’t deter me all that much, what else would I be doing until I was thirty?

  God, this seminar is lasting forever. I studied the room noticing the stereotype on med students is all wrong.

  It reminded me of my mom, and how she was always making sure my head was on right. That I was focused. She worked her ass off to take care of me. Asthma is a bitch, but I’ve learned how to tame it.

  I never knew my dad, but mom always made me feel loved. Protected. She worked hard, too hard I think. When she passed, I knew she was just sticking around until she was sure I would make it.

  We had the same affliction, but I never expected her to get so sick, so fast.

  I wasn’t ready to accept it.

  I wasn’t sure I should have come back to school so fast either, but an acceptance to medical school can’t just be passed along or postponed. So here I was, making mom proud every day I was here—

  I nearly ran when the three hours was up. I was tired and starving—ha!

  Welcome to med school. I guess.

  Chapter One: Perrie

  FOUNDATIONAL SCIENCES were going right over my head. Not because I didn’t understand, but because all my patients would already be dead. I had to get through med school to even get there, so here I am, learning about the six domains of science that focused on the contribution to the health and disease of individuals and populations.


  It was all important to the training of a doctor, but direct care of patients? Not so much, for what I wanted to do. At least the instructor was nice. She was a fellow at the university hospital; Dr. Beck I think.

  By the end of class I had gone through half a notebook, and my laptop was screaming at my stylus to leave it alone. We were lucky to have such good technology these days otherwise my fingers would be crying.

  I stopped at the café to buy a quick snack; I smiled when I saw they had my favorite flavor of Chobani Flip, Salted caramel. I chose a table in the corner by the window to sit for a few minutes.

  Lecture would kill me, it was way too early. Even the sky agreed, because the sun was only barely peeking through the wide windows surrounding the room.

  The girls next to me were too chipper to have been in it, so I thought perhaps they were older. I glanced over, quietly snooping. It wasn’t even how they looked, it’s how they were acting. They kept looking over behind them, laughing, and then speaking in hushed whispers. What on earth is so funny? Their yogurt parfaits?

  I was curious though. I turned in my chair and saw the cause of their giggles.

  It was a group of a few guys; one was very suburb looking with dark hair; like he lived in the carpool and knew every nook and cranny of his mom’s minivan. The other was shorter, and decent, I suppose; and the other one... goodness.

  He looked like he belonged in a medical soap, not med school. That was stereotypical, wasn’t it? Yeah.

  But still.

  Soap dude was tall; a brooding dirty blonde with a glinting smile that had me entranced. Since my last wreck of a relationship in college, I hadn’t looked at men. Not the way I was looking at him. He demanded my eyes. He held the pear in his hand like it was a forbidden fruit of some sort; well, that’s what he made it look like. The way my breath hitched, and my fingertips tingled told me he would be trouble.

  I was too far to make anything else out, only that he wore khakis and a Henley like it was a tailored suit. I turned back in my chair and ate the last of my yogurt. I couldn’t be distracted by the prettiest man in the entire program. I had a job to do here, and it wasn’t to ogle the men.

  Tempting as they were.

  I watched the girls again. One of them, the boldest of them all, waved at the guys as they walked past. Smiling, the suburban one sat down in an empty seat and called his friend over. But they didn’t want them, I stifled a giggle as they tried to hide their disappointment. They wanted Soap dude. I shook my head to myself and sipped some water, then I checked my watch, I needed to get going if I wanted to avoid the social anxiety of finding an empty seat when the class filled up.

  Just as I scooted my chair an inch, I was stalled.

  “Mind if I sit here?”

  From the ground up, I followed the gruff, yet light voice.

  Black sneakers, muscular thighs fighting the tan fabric, gray Henley stretched over a flat slab of abs, a broad chest, and slight muscles; but not thick and ropy like he pumps iron for hours, more like he runs or swims. All the way up to a heart shaped face, structured with the strongest of jaw lines I had ever seen, pointing right to a pair of full pink lips, cracked in a smile. And then his eyes. Whoa, his eyes could make me do anything. They were a cagy gray, the kind that must change color in the light.

  I realized then he had asked me something. I stared at him, jaw slack for a good few seconds. What was it? “Um, no.”

  To be honest, I was confused. As he sat down and smiled at me, I couldn’t help but wonder why. Classic insecurity at times, how riveting.

  The girls who waved him down were pretty, and perfect. Me?

  I don’t know if my gray tee shirt made it in the last wash, it smelled good enough, but I still covered it with a blue wool sweater. My jeans were worn to the stitches, one wrong move and they’d rip. I was pale, my hair nice and shiny because I bought expensive hair products. And the only makeup I ever made myself wear was my Blistex chap stick. But he wanted to sit with me?

  “First year, right?” He asked.

  I nodded and swallowed, “you?”

  He nodded once with a crooked smile.

  He took a bite out of his pear; how could eating look so...erogenous? I swallowed nervously and glanced over at the girls who were now glaring at me, practically ignoring suburbs and his kid.

  “So that seminar this morning? Gosh, I was falling asleep.” He shook his head and I giggled softly.

  “Yeah, I was. I was in the front row, so I couldn’t nod off like I wanted to though.”

  He smirked another crooked grin. Hmm. He is very pretty.

  “Oh, you’re one of those people who sit in the front row, huh?” He teased.

  “So?” I leaned back, crossing my arms as I arched a brow and blinked.

  He only smiled and chewed more of his pear. I looked at the girls again. Now they were sizing me up, wondering why he came and sat next to me. Me too, lasses. Me too.

  “Nothing.” He shrugged.

  “Why aren’t you sitting with your friends?” I pointed to the girls and the two guys.

  “Them? I just met those guys.” He nodded towards them.

  They weren’t paying attention, they had all eyes on the girls. I wondered what would come of their chance meeting.

  “What about the girls? You know they are staring at you.”

  Even though I was. I constantly dragged my eyes up from his bare clavicle peeking under his shirt; and back up to his face. Which wasn’t any more of a relief.

  “Yeah, they don’t mean it though. Once they see I don’t fit their criteria, they’ll back off.” He shook his head, an unreadable expression flashing across his face before he smiled at me, like he was speaking from experience.

  I was going to be late, but I was curious. “What’s um—what’s not to fit?” I chewed the inside of my cheek nervously.

  He smirked and shook his head. Then, he leaned back to fish something out of his pocket. The motion made his knee come forward and brush mine. I read enough romance novels and watched enough movies to classify that feeling I just felt as ‘spark.’ But the part of me going into debt to be here told myself to brush it off. I cannot get distracted.

  He held up a small l-shaped cylinder to his mouth, pressed the top, and inhaled deeply. Once he was done he made a few more sniffs and put it back. His narrow nose scrunched up, the tendons of his jaw tightening.

  “You have asthma, so what?” I shrugged.

  The dimples in his cheek pressed in as he smiled and pointed to the table of girls.

  They weren’t looking over here anymore. Suddenly, the guys sitting in front of them were more interesting. I widened my eyes in shock and looked back to him. He shrugged with a sad smile. Then I frowned at the thought.

  “Did you sit in front of me because I look more ordinary than interesting?” I shook my head, removing the interest. “I have to get to class anyway. It was nice to meet you...” I noticed I didn’t know his name. Better that way anyway.

  I grabbed my bag, and trash, but his fingers brushed against my wrist ever so slightly and I nearly melted. His fingers were warm, and soft. They lit me up as I stifled a gasp when I looked down at him.

  “No. I sat here cause I had to talk to the prettiest girl I’ve seen since my crush on Jenifer Aniston. This was the easiest conversation I have had all day.” It was half a comical, but it was enough to make me stop.

  Okay. I felt a little bad for assuming. Perhaps I am still insecure in some ways, but who isn’t? When a male model plops himself in front of you, you ‘gotta ask questions.

  “Oh. I have to get going.” I marched out of there after giving him a quick smile.

  Ugh, I felt his eyes on me as I walked away. Don’t trip, don’t trip.

  I quick paced it out of there and didn’t slow until I hit the skywalk to the conference room for my next class. Then I broke into a Christmas day smile.

  I wish I got his name!

  He’s...nice. The genial vibe he gave off was still rol
ling through me, or maybe it was just him touching me. I wished I could have sat with him longer to figure it out. There was...something.

  It was obvious their interest evaporated when they saw that he had asthma. There was nothing to it; just like I took a multivitamin every day at three, he needed a little help breathing. Big whoop.

  My sister told me San Francisco was materialistic, but I thought that more of LA than here. Then again, most of the students here were from Los Angeles. Still, I didn’t understand those girls at all.

  Clem was six years older than me and killing it in the Air Force. She was nowhere near combat, as she was a psychologist at their base in Texas. I didn’t get to see her often, but her hours were relatively normal, so I would get to call her when I got back.

  Some days I need her advice more than others. But that day?

  It would be a session of ‘how to avoid hot guys in med school, and why are bitches so rude?’

  Chapter Two: Thom

  I FORCED MYSELF TO joke with the two frat boys from hell, just in case I would need their help later. That was all college and med school is about, hanging out with people you don’t really like so you can hit them with that ‘can I see your notes from class?’

  Anyway.

  Chris and Donald weren’t too bad, but still.

  “Hey Thom, grab lunch with us.” Donald clapped my shoulder like an old uncle.

  I stopped my eyes from rolling at the thought of having class with him.

  “The ‘h’ is silent. But sure.” I slung my bag over my shoulder.

  He shrugged, and we headed for the café.

  I was glad to have gone, because I met her. Not the blithering group of girls, but the sweet, Chobani eating honey drop. There was no insult there, it was just her hair; that hot honey color that you drizzle over your apple at the County Fair. A sweet face, soft and round, with light gray eyes that almost matched mine.