His eyes grew wide. “Are you…um…is everything okay?”
I unfastened my seat belt and twisted to launch myself over the console. I wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you for coming,” I whispered in his ear. “And for choosing to be with me.”
He put his hands in my hair and rested his cheek on mine. “Oh, sweetheart. There’s no place I’d rather be. Team Olivyn for the win, right?”
I angled my chin so our lips would meet. Kissing him gave me an entirely new perspective on my future adventure—our future adventure. Suddenly, I couldn’t remember how I was even going to do this alone, with Oliver back here on the East Coast. Now, I’d never have to know. We’d be together, like we were meant to be. I was courageous enough to take the leap into an uncertain future, and he was courageous enough to join me.
“I missed you,” he murmured against my lips.
“I missed you too. And Oliver?” I pulled away to look at his face, that soft beautiful skin, those big brown eyes. Even those crazy eyebrows.
He pushed my hair over my ears. “Hmm?”
“I love you too.”
He kissed my nose. “Then drive, woman.”
And with a smile on my face, I did.
Epilogue
Olivyn
With an exaggerated laugh, Taryn sat back in her seat and refastened her belt. “You’re so bossy.”
“Better get used to it because we are in this for the long haul.” Oliver tapped on his phone. “Do you know it’s forty-two hours to San Diego? You want to go through Chicago? Or Vegas? Or Phoenix?”
“Let’s get out of Jersey first and then we’ll decide?”
Ollie grimaced. “I’d prefer to have the map set.”
Reaching over the armrest, she pinched his shoulder. “How about we just keep heading west, until we hit the Pacific someday?”
Groaning, Oliver dropped the phone onto his lap. “That’s so not a real plan. Hey Taryn?”
“Yep?”
“Thanks for letting me tag along. I’m excited to see the world with you.”
His words made her smile, even though her instinct was to hide from the emotion just a while longer. Team Olivyn wouldn’t change overnight and they’d face challenges ahead. But moving forward together was worth anything they’d have to face.
“Me too. And now I have you to pump my gas.” Taryn never pumped her own gas, but had always dreamed of doing it. Pumping her own gas would mean that she was outside of New Jersey and finally following her goal to travel. And with Ollie, the dream was more than she could ever imagine. Like a fantasy come true.
He cleared his throat and said in a low voice, “Oh, I’ll pump your gas.”
Taryn spurted out a laugh. “Ew, Ollie. That doesn’t even sound sexy.”
“I thought maybe the word ‘pump’ had, like, sort of a sexy undertone. No?”
“No.”
“When do I get to drive?” Ollie tapped his foot on the floor of the car.
“God help me,” she teased. “How many hours do we have left?”
Taryn glanced at him as he touched his nose, then held his finger in the air. “Forty-one hours and fifty-eight minutes, traffic pending. But I assume we’ll stop somewhere for the night?” He reached over for her thigh. “Like soon. Because we have a lot of makeup sex to have.”
Heat flowed through her body and she felt her flush under the layers of winter clothes as she drove off the NJU campus. “Jesus, Ollie. I’m trying to drive here.”
“So that was a bit sexier than the ‘pump your gas’ line?”
“Way sexier.”
He exaggerated a yawn. “I’m kind of tired already. Maybe we should find a motel.”
She smacked him in the chest. “We’ve barely gone five miles. Why don’t you find some music?”
Oliver played the same playlist that he’d queued up for the trip to Philly, which felt like years ago. “My favorite songs for my favorite girl.”
They drove until the playlist finished, and then couldn’t spend another minute without touching each other. Barely into Pennsylvania, Taryn pulled into a cheap motel and counted out cash for the night. At the rate they were going, it would take them weeks to get across the country, but neither cared. They knew they’d get there eventually, together.
THE END
Sneak Peek of MAKING THE MOVE (Mill Street Series #2)
Chapter One
Josh
Violet Nicholson was going to be the death of me.
Rachel led me through the party to the basement of the loud, overcrowded frat house by one hand as I balanced my red Solo cup, filled to the rim, in the other. Weaving through the bodies, she yelled something over her shoulder about Violet being reckless and needing me.
What else was new?
This was quickly becoming my weekend routine—monitoring Violet as she got drunk and tried to hook up with the football players in my frat. I knew she was going through a tough time, and I cared about her too much to let her make the mistakes she seemed determined to make. No matter how much she fought me on it.
Downstairs, the music wasn’t quite as loud, and the lights were dim. I squinted through the dark room as Rachel pointed toward the corner. There she was, like a little pixie, dancing in the middle of a circle of wolves.
Chugging the rest of my beer, I tossed the cup and moved to the center of the circle. I covered the narrow width of her back with the palm of my hand and looked around.
“Okay, she’s done. I’m calling it. Everybody move on.”
The last thing I needed was to be forced to kick some guy’s ass for getting handsy with Violet. One of them stood up like he wanted to challenge me, but once he saw that I had about a hundred pounds on him, he backed away. With one false move, I’d have squashed him like a bug.
Rachel disappeared as Violet stared up at me, her big brown eyes glassy. “What are you doing, Hunkarama?”
Cringing at the nickname, I tugged her away and led her toward the stairs. The NJU football team charity calendar had made me Mr. January and captioned my picture “Hunkarama,” and now pretty much everyone called me that. February could not come soon enough. “I’m getting tired of this routine, Vi. You’re drunk. I don’t like the way they were looking at you.”
She stood on her tiptoes, and I held her elbows to stop her from toppling over. “I’m just trying to relax. Have some fun.”
“Relaxing and fun would be shopping with Rachel, or practicing your fiddle—”
“It’s a violin—”
“—not dancing like a stripper in the middle of a bunch of football players.” Knowing what would happen next, I crossed my arms and waited. Three, two…
She poked my chest. “I hate you.”
There it was. I knew better than to take offense at her words. “You’ll thank me in the morning. Trust me.” Grabbing her finger, I gave it a little squeeze. “They’ve been gone for a month. You have to get your shit together.”
Violet had dated my roommate and best friend, Oliver, for five years until he dumped her on Christmas and ran off with her roommate, Taryn. In his defense, Violet had broken up with him first, when she had the opportunity to study at an orchestral academy in Vienna for eight weeks. Her efforts to get back together once she’d returned had fallen flat. Now Oliver and Taryn were in SoCal, living in some shack on the beach and loving life, while the rest of us assholes were in New Jersey covered in snow and picking up the pieces.
“Why?” She pulled her finger out of my grasp. “Why do I need to get my act together?”
“Because you need to graduate and move on.” I hated being the one to break this to Violet, but everyone else had been walking on eggshells around her since Ollie and Taryn left. I cared about her too much to lie to her.
Her bottom lip started to quiver.
“Fuck,” I said. “Don’t cry. Please. I can’t take it.” There was nothing I hated more than to see a woman cry. I was raised in a household of women—my mother, grandmother, and four sisters�
�and knew the power of female emotions. I could handle it all, except tears. The crying broke my damn heart.
“I’m sorry,” she whined as the first tear dropped. “I’m trying, I am.”
With that, she fell into a neat little pile on the beer-sludged, frat house floor, right into the muck. I cringed, having witnessed the crap we cleaned off of it every Sunday. Squatting down next to her, I reached for her hand. “Violet, not the floor. Come on. Get up.”
“No,” she whined. “I’m going to stay here and sleep for a while.”
As she attempted to rest her head of dark curls on the ground, I scooped her up.
“What are you doing?” she slurred, wiping at her eyes.
I was doing what I’d always done. Keeping Violet in one piece and getting her through the weekend. “I’m bringing you home.”
She kicked her legs, which were dangling over my forearms, as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “You’re going to carry me the whole way?”
I blew out a long breath, acting more annoyed than I felt. “If you’re not going to walk and you’re going to act like a baby on the floor of the frat house, yes.”
When I glanced at her face, she smiled, then rested her head on my shoulder. “I guess I don’t hate you anymore.” Her voice was soft and peaceful again.
I growled something that sounded a little like, “You’re welcome,” as I carried her up the stairs.
“Josh?” She lifted her head and I felt her warm breath on my neck.
“Yeah?”
When she didn’t answer, I stopped walking and met her gaze. Her watery eyes lasered into mine. “Will I ever feel normal again?”
I touched my nose to hers. “I don’t know, Pix. ‘Normal’ may never be the same for either of us.”
She pouted as she laid her head back on my shoulder, right in the crook between my neck and my chest, her curls tickling my cheek.
Violet had been in my life for over three years, since Ollie and I were assigned as roommates freshman year. Sometimes, we’d chat or watch television while he studied. I’d make her laugh as she cooked him dinner or made his coffee, and the entire time, I’d imagine what it would be like to be Ollie and have someone so perfect and beautiful who you knew you’d have for the rest of your life.
In the past three years, I’d been with numerous women, but I’d been so jealous of Oliver the whole time because I’d fallen more in love with his girlfriend than he ever had.
Now that they were broken up though, I only wanted her to get back to being herself. The talented violinist. The smart, sophisticated city girl with the upper-class upbringing who could brighten a room without even trying. The adorably sexy coed who, with one glance, could light a fire in me that didn’t smolder for anyone but her.
But she was lost. As I carried her through the frat house, I was fairly certain the pixie in my arms, on a self-destructive quest to attract the entire male population of NJU, didn’t even realize how lost she was.
So far, I’d been able to keep her off of my drunk frat brothers, but sooner or later, she’d find someone who’d be willing to take advantage of her shaky mental state. She’d been a disaster since Oliver and Taryn left, and I’d made it my life’s mission to take care of her until she figured out how to take care of herself.
No matter what the task ended up doing to my heart.
MAKING THE MOVE (Mill Street Series #2) releases July 2019! Click here for my Amazon page to order!
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading Ollie and Taryn’s story. I am so in love with writing New Adult romances, especially this Mill Street gang, and I’m glad you are tagging along for the ride!
This book is dedicated to Heather Van Fleet, a wonderful author and an even more amazing friend. Thank you for being my writing sister and for taking this journey with me. I’m honored that I have you in my life and that we can share our stories and our experiences, in and out of our writing lives. Love you to the moon and back.
A million thank yous to my friends with mad skillz—awesome editor Erin Rhew of Erin Rhew Editing and Design, and wonderful cover artist Nancy Colbert-Hardy of Booked by Design. Without them, my stories would live on my laptop with terrible formatting, poor grammar, and horrible covers. Your talents turn my mess into something to be proud of, and I’m forever grateful.
To my Facebook pseudo-reader group, PLEASE don’t leave me! I need you and appreciate you all so much. Special shout outs to Taryn Johnston for letting me steal her name for this book, and to Goodreads reviewer Tweety for the help with the Italian!
Thank you to all my special writer and real-life friends for your constant support and encouragement. You are always giving me your love, and I hope you feel loved by me in return.
Finally, a big, sloppy kiss of thanks to Joe and my boys, for being awesome and keeping me grounded in reality when my head seems in the clouds.
Keep reading! And long live New Adult romance!
About the Author
Jessica Calla is a New Adult, Contemporary Romance, and Women’s Fiction author, who moonlights during the day as an attorney. If she's not writing, lawyering, or parenting, you'll most likely find her at the movies, scrolling through her Twitter feed, or gulping down various forms of caffeine (sometimes all three at once).
Jessica is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, and the New Jersey Romance Writers. She's volunteered as a mentor to new authors, and loves helping out the writing community any way she can. A Jersey girl through and through, Jessica resides in the central part of the state with her husband, two sons, and dog.
You can learn more about Jess and her books at www.jessicacalla.com.
Also by Jessica Calla
In Romance
THE LOVE SQUARE
The Sheridan Hall Series
SHE LAUGHS IN PINK (Sheridan Hall Series #1)
SHE RUNS AWAY (Sheridan Hall Series #2)
SHE WANTS IT ALL (Sheridan Hall Series #3)
The Mill Street Series
BREAKING THE PLAN (Mill Street Series #1)
MAKING THE MOVE (Mill Street Series #2) (July 2019)
TAKING IT BACK (Mill Street Series #3) (TBD)
Short Stories
The One She Left Behind (in CRAVING: ONE NIGHT)
The Widow (in CRAVING: FORBIDDEN)
Elle is for Love (in LET IT SNOW: A HOLLY GROVE ANTHOLOGY)
In Women’s Fiction
MAPLE SUMMER WALLACE: a novel
Breaking the Plan: Mill Street Series #1 Page 23