Finally Us (True Love)

  Finally Us

  True Love Trilogy #3

  Harper Bentley

  Discover other titles by Harper Bentley:

  CEP series:

  Being Chased (CEP #1)

  Unbreakable Hearts (CEP #2)

  Under the Gun (CEP #3) coming later in 2014!

  True Love series:

  Discovering Us (True Love #1)

  Finding Us (True Love #2)

  http://harperbentleywrites.com/

  Copyright © 2014 Harper Bentley

  Digital Edition: June 2014

  Editors: Deb, Franca & Sam

  Cover image licensed by www.shutterstock.com

  Cover Photo design by Jada D’Lee Designs

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. If certain places or characters are referenced it is for entertainment purposes only.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the Author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Dedication

  To Connie

  For teaching your little sister

  that sometimes humor is just

  the thing that’s needed

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to Cecily from Cecily’s Book Review for being one of my biggest supporters. Her love for Jag equals mine and I don’t mind sharing him with you, doll ;) Thank you to Sheyla from Mrsleif’s Two Fangs About It Book Reviews for constantly coming up with new ways to get the word out about the True Love Trilogy. Much love to you! To Trish and Megan of Bedroom Bookworms fame for their undying love and support of me *snickers* You guys rock! Trish, thanks for being such an awesome friend. So glad you Tweeted me up! Oh! The Marshmallow reference inside is dedicated to you! <3 Many other bloggers who’ve been so supportive (and I thank you guys gobs!) are Paula and Cheryl from A Pair of Okies, Amanda at Swoon Worthy Books, and FS Meurinne. You guys are the greatest and I appreciate all the promotion and support you’ve given me. Thanks to Jada for all the gorgeous covers. I appreciate that you get what I’m talking about when I send you pictures out of the blue. You’re amazing! And last, but so very far from the least, big fat gobs of love to Deb, Franca and Sam for faithfully reading my drafts and never being afraid to call me out on the stupid things I do. Each of you is so very special to me and I can’t thank you enough for all you do. Finally, to the readers, thank you! You’ve made my dreams come true, and for that, I’m eternally grateful! If I’ve forgotten anyone, I beg your forgiveness. Please contact me and I’ll be glad to add you here. I’m blaming lack of sleep for my oversights. Well, that or being the mother of a teenage girl. Those of you who have one, you understand.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  El

  It’s said that there’s nothing more beautiful than someone who smiles after struggling through tears.

  Well, then I must be frickin’ stunning.

  And having to wear a smile all the damned time because you know that the minute you stop you’ll start to cry is exhausting.

  And that just sucks.

  I’ve been walking around for the past four months doing just that knowing that the minute I let my guard down, I’ll crumble. And I don’t want to crumble. Crumbling means picking up the pieces and I don’t have time for that.

  Damn it, I’m a strong, independent woman (at least that’s what Mom tells me) who now has a great job that I busted my ass for. I’ve got great friends, a great family and most everything is going well for me. I mean, I bought my first pair of Jimmy Choo’s last week, for crying out loud. I should be on top of the world, right?

  Yeah, well… yeah.

  My name is Ellen Love, I’m twenty-four years old and despite all the good in my life (seriously, those Jimmy Choo’s are fabulous), I’m currently a shadow of my former self.

  Wait. Hear that? That’s a tiny violin playing, “My Heart Bleeds for You.”

  Go fuck yourself, violin.

  And, apparently, I’m a little angry.

  Anyway, on what do I blame my current condition, you ask. To be honest, the reason is that my heart is broken, I’m pissed off, and I owe it all to Jagger Knox Jensen.

  See, Jag was the love of my life for twenty years. Twenty years! And now that he’s no longer here, I feel broken. Completely shattered.

  And I hate it.

  I miss him.

  I want him back.

  But I know that can’t happen unless we get some things worked out first.

  And although my family and friends have tried to help me, the advice I’ve received has been far from comforting.

  Mom says hearts were meant to be broken.

  Dad says time heals all wounds.

  And my best friend Rebecca says it takes half the time you were together to get over someone.

  Soooo, I’m thinking that I’ll be fine in, oh, another nine and a half years.

  Awesome.

  ~~~

  Jag

  Breaking up with someone you love is a total mindfuck.

  First of all, you still love them, so why the hell are you breaking up? Second, when things happen in your life, you want to share them with that person, but they’re no longer there which is total bullshit. And third, well, third is the worst because there’s this person-shaped hole inside of you, and no matter what you do to fill this void, it remains empty, reminding you that nothing can fill it but them.

  And the El-shaped chasm in my fucking chest hurts like a son of a bitch.

  I miss her.

  I want her back.

  But then again, I’m so pissed at her that I know I need to stay away. For how long, I don’t know. I guess until I don’t want to throw shit whenever I see her.

  And this has been going on for four months.

  My name is Jag Jensen (Hi, Jag), I’m twenty-seven and I think I’ve now earned the Platinum Assholes Anonymous card. I’m not proud of it, just so you know.

  Although Ellen Love and I have known each other for most of our lives, we were officially together for almost nine years before our breakup. That’s a long time to be with someone to just throw it all away. But I guess sometimes you have to take a break from each other, put things on hold for a bit. At least I hope that’s what this is, a break.

  And breaks suck.

  My family and friends have tried helping me, but it’s just something I’m going to have to work through, I guess.

  Dad tells me hanging on is sometimes harder than letting go.

  Mom says everything happens for a reason.

  And my friend Baxter says that when it’s ready to work itself out, it fucking will.

  I’ll say this much, I’m not going to lose her and I’ll fight to get her back. But the time for that is not now, so I’ll wait.

  Just. Fucking. Awesome.

  Chapter 1

  El

  “You’re such a big baby.”

 
Silence.

  And I start sweating. Whoops. Maybe berating someone who’s in pain isn’t the brightest thing to do in my career field. I’ll have to work on that.

  I look at Austin “Ed” Eddington and give him a remorseful smile. “What I meant to say was, ‘Go, Ed! You can do it!’” I say weakly and hold my hand up shaking an invisible pom pom, which makes him glare at me.

  I’m now a physical therapist at a center that provides therapy for every professional sports team in Chicago, a job I’ve wanted forever and I couldn’t be happier. Well, I could if things in the romance area of my life were settled, of course, but despite all that, I’ve been thrilled beyond belief. I graduated last spring after cramming what should’ve been a six-year degree into five then interned at another sports therapy clinic before landing this gig, which has been the ultimate dream come true.

  I’ve been working on Austin, a pitcher for the Cubs, or his hamstring, I should say, for the past week and a half. And I’ve never seen a grown man whine as much as he has. I’m tempted to crush up and slip a couple valiums into his energy drink when he comes to see me the next time so he’ll be a little more chill.

  I actually understand why he’s been so crabby, though. If I’ve learned anything in the short time I’ve been working here, it’s that professional athletes can’t afford to be out of the game for very long.

  And that makes me think about Jag. Great.

  Jag injured his shoulder pitching in a Dodgers game last summer right after we’d broken up. They’d thought it was the labrum, which probably would’ve been career ending, but thank God it was the rotator cuff instead which is reparable. He’d had surgery right away and was now getting his own physical therapy. I knew all this from my mom talking to his mom then Mom telling me. Yep. I’d lowered myself to third party stalking but whatever. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I mean, just because you break up with someone doesn’t mean you stop loving them, right?

  “When you gonna go out with me?”

  Austin’s comment pulls me out of my reverie and I ask with a frown, “Huh?” Eloquent, I know.

  He turns and smiles at me from where he lies on the training table. I’ve been massaging his hamstring for the past couple minutes which doesn’t take a lot of brainpower and has led to my mind wandering to Jag. Now I look back at him still frowning not able to comprehend what he said.

  “I asked when you were gonna go out with me?” He smiles again and it’s then that I notice he’s pretty hot. Straight, white teeth surrounded by nice, kissable lips, the bottom one a little fuller than the top. His eyes are hazel and they now look green as he gazes at me under a lock of dark hair hanging over them. Which reminds me again of Jag who has a hunk of hair that always does that. Ugh.

  “Uh. You know we’re not supposed to date patients, Ed,” I respond casually but can’t help the blush that covers my face when he turns back around. I look down at what I’m doing as I squeeze my fingers into the back of his leg and notice for the first time how muscular he is. His shoulders are wide up top and his back narrows down to his slim waist pretty damned enticingly. And then there’s his butt which is nice and tight and round. Hm. Why haven’t I noticed before? Dang. Being able to look at him in this way makes me feel as if I’ve woken up from a long hibernation which kind of weirds me out.

  Now, I’m not that familiar with breakups because I’ve only had one serious relationship which was with Jag, and, therefore, only one breakup. Well, we’ve actually had two, but the first one doesn’t count because we got back together soon after, but I’ve read enough romance books to know that there’s always that one day when you’re supposed to just get over that person and then you’re ready to move on.

  Is this my “getting over that person” moment? Am I over Jag? But it hasn’t been nine and a half years yet. I keep frowning as I think about it, digging my fingers into the muscle that’s before me.

  “Ouch! Hey! Calm down, Ellen. A simple ‘No’ is good enough. You don’t have to maim me for life. Jesus.”

  I stop the massage and look back at Austin when it hits me. Yep. He’s hot, even when he’s whining and I know this is a defining moment in my life.

  “Sorry. I, uh…” What can I say? I’m stuck in my head thinking about what the hell’s going on with me.

  “I get it. You don’t want to go out. Fine. We done?” He sits up before I tell him we’re finished and stands, grabbing the end of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face he acquired from the workout we did before his massage.

  At six feet, he’s shorter than Jag but built about the same, though his muscles are more compact since he’s not as tall. I stare at his biceps that bulge with his movements and at the six-pack of abs he flashes at me. Wow.

  “Sorry. I, uh…” I swear to God, if I say “uh” one more time…

  He grins at me as he pulls on wind pants, those pearly whites gleaming, then puts a hand on my shoulder. “Ellen, it’s okay. Been turned down before. Probably won’t be the last time.”

  “Uh…” All right, damn it. Enough with the freakin’ “uh” crap. Make a damned decision, for frick’s sake. “I can meet you at Willie’s at five thirty,” I blurt, still frowning. Then I frown even more as I think about what I’ve just said.

  “You’re on,” he answers, his grin even bigger as I just keep staring at him before he brushes his fingers over the side of my face and leaves the room.

  “Shit,” I mutter. This isn’t ethical. It’s wrong. And even though I don’t technically work for the Cubs, it’s been pounded into my head over the years that we’re not supposed to date clients. What the hell am I doing? I realize I have no clue as I start cleaning up the room.

  “I’m squeeing right now!” Rebecca says into my ear after I tell her about Austin. She’s doing her critical care nursing at Northwestern Memorial in the ER and it’s been keeping her majorly busy, so I’m glad I’ve actually gotten her on the phone.

  I don’t reply as I sit in my car outside the clinic.

  “I know it’s scary, El, but this is a good first step!” she assures me, picking up that I’m scared out of my wits over this.

  “Scary doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I say. I put my forehead on the steering wheel wondering if I’m making a huge mistake.

  “Well, you have to start somewhere. And Austin Eddington? God, he’s freakin’ hot!”

  “But the ethics of it all…” I start.

  “Screw ethics right now. And it’s not like you’re gonna marry the guy, right?” She adds, “And it’s a good place to start.”

  “It’s just… weird.” I sigh and bite my lip.

  She sighs too. She’s been with me through everything that’s happened with Jag and me, so she understands. “I know it is. Just go have fun. No pressure. You’re just friends with him, okay?”

  I sit up and nod then realize she can’t see me. “Okay,” I mumble.

  “Call me after and let me know how it goes! If I don’t answer, leave a voicemail, okay? This is so exciting!”

  “Yeah. Exciting.”

  She laughs. “El, you’ll be fine. Promise. ‘Kay, I’ve gotta go. My five-minute break is up. Remind me again why I want to be an anesthesiologist?”

  “Because you’re a, and I quote what you told me when we were ten, ‘knockout,’” I say which makes us both giggle.

  “Yeah. I’m a knockout. How cute was I to know how to be sarcastic at that age?” she answers still giggling.

  “Pretty cute,” I agree. “I’ll call you after.”

  “Good! Have fun! Love you!” and she hangs up.

  I put my phone on the passenger seat and stare out the windshield wondering what I’m doing. It’s mid-November and a light snow is falling. I watch as the snowflakes hit the glass then melt, sliding down in little rivulets, reminding me of the thousand tears I’ve cried since I last saw Jag.

  It was just at the first of this month when I drove to Mom and Dad’s for a visit. I don’t know why I turned down the street to
drive past his parents’ house, but I did, and my timing was perfect because there he was getting out of an SUV I knew he’d leased from the airport. My heart did a flip-flop in my chest and I sucked in so much air I thought I’d hyperventilate when he looked my way, his stunning glacier blue eyes locking onto mine. He had on his army green fatigue jacket with what I knew was a gray Dodgers hoodie underneath, the camel-colored chinos I’d gotten him the year before because they’d made his butt look exceptionally yummy, brown wingtip boots and a baseball cap that he wore backward. Good lord he looked good. The scruff he sported finished it all off, and that scene has been in my dreams ever since.

  I’d stared back at him and had almost stopped, but then I remembered why we were where we were, the scowl on his face not letting me forget, so I’d driven on to my parents’ without another look back which had been pure torture.

  I sigh again before putting my car in reverse then head home to freshen up before meeting Austin.

  Chapter 2

  Jag

  “Fuck, that hurts!” I whine.

  “No pain, no gain,” Kim, my physical therapist says.

  I grunt as an answer because if I open my mouth, I’ll go off on him. Yeah, I said him.

  “Keep going. You’ve got one more set,” he informs me.

  Now I’ve had it. “Who the fuck names their son Kim anyway?” I ask with a sneer as I pull the resistance band toward my stomach. To the average person this is not a tough exercise, but I sweat as I feel the strain on my shoulder, damn it.

  “What kinda pussy name is Jag?” he fires back and I snort in the middle of a pull.

  “Fuck off. My dad was in a rock band back in the 70s. I’m named after a good friend of his. You might’ve heard of him before: Mick Jagger.”

  “Oh, and that makes it less pussified,” he counters.

  I release the band as I bark out a laugh. We’ve been doing this for the past two months, trading insults. I have to admit that I started it when one of the exercises early on hurt so badly I thought I was going to pass out from the pain. So to keep my masculinity intact, verbal abuse was necessary. Kim’s just thrown it right back at me and it’s been awesome. He may have a sissy name but the guy’s definitely not a wimp.