Page 31 of Dear Future Husband (The Dearly Written #1)

Maybelle

I was on my way to college, and I was vibrating with excitement. I was going to be staying somewhere else other than my small room, which made me want to weep with joy.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my space and couldn’t be more thankful for Chelsea and Trey’s generosity in giving it to me—but I needed out.

I finished the book Trey got me on Tuesday and may have shed a tear or two with how darling it was.

Pre-coma me had great taste in literature I learned.

After finishing Flipped , I decided it would remain my favorite book post-coma.

The rest of the week, I had nothing to do except read more of the journal. I started from the beginning, instead of jumping around randomly, and I truly got hooked on my writing and stories.

Judging by the entries at the start of the book I wasn’t always so doom and gloom. I once was happy, hopeful even. I wondered what happened… I guessed I would learn the more I read.

It was intriguing, reading my biography of experiences I couldn’t remember. It felt foreign, maybe like a prank someone was pulling on me until I read statements that resonated with me so deeply it could only be my words.

I read a lot about my mom and our relationship. My mom and I had been close. My brother, Liam, and I—not so much. Despite that, I could feel the love and admiration I had for my twin brother leaking through the pages with each written word.

I read about my time in sports, hobbies I had, and skill sets I didn’t know I possessed.

There were entries I talked about my thoughts on books and current events of the world.

There were more than a couple passages of a fifteen-year-old Maybelle breaking down the philosophical messages of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein .

Honestly, I was an odd child. So odd it was almost adorable—in a way. As I continued to read, I started falling in love with not only the child I’d been, but also the idea of this ominous future husband.

This innocent child that wrote so fervently on the pages, fell in love with someone who listened, understood, loved, protected, and valued her on a level that she already mirrored.

A love story that was writing itself before the main characters entered the scene.

It was inspiring.

This little girl—well, me—had fallen in love with a man she never met but knew without a doubt that she would know him when she found him. Because she took the time to get to know him—and maybe herself—through the pages of a blank book.

I wondered if she ever met him. If I knew him before I forgot. How devastating if that girl found her forever pen pal only to lose him to my broken memory.

My eagerness to learn more had me packing the journal with me for the weekend in case I got more time to read.

“How was your last therapy session today?” Chelsea asked as she pulled up the ramp onto the freeway .

I cringed.

Unfortunately, me and Annalise didn’t make up from that conversation Monday until the very last second. We were all business the last three sessions, except for the hug I pulled her into just before she walked out the door.

It was quick, but it healed that little tear between us before our relationship as doctor and patient ended. I got her number before she left. We planned to meet up for coffee in a couple weeks as a check-in and I was already really looking forward to it.

My first friend outside of the Turners.

“It was good, but as much as I love Annalise, I’m happy it’s done,” I admitted as I watched the world speed by my window.

Chelsea giggled. “Yes, it’ll be nice not having to watch your poor body get stretched apart like a rubber band four days a week.”

I smiled. Chelsea was there for almost all of my sessions, supporting and cheering me on the entire time. Even after I could get myself up and ready on my own for therapy, she was still there. A quiet companion during some of the worst pain I could remember feeling.

I was lucky to have a Chelsea Turner in my life.

“Sorry I’m ditching you this weekend.” I brushed a few of my frizzy curls from my face. “We’ll have to catch up on our romcoms next week.”

Chelsea put her hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Oh, don’t you dare be sorry, sweetheart. We’ll catch up on our movies, but I want you to have the best time this weekend. Besides, I won’t be home either.” She punctuated with a wink.

“Oh, okay. What kind of mischief are you getting up to?”

She smoothly lifted and lowered her petite shoulders.

“I have a date.” A coy smile pulled at her red tinted lips.

I nudged the woman playfully. “You hottie. Of course you do. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s a secret, and this stays between you and me. I’ll tell Trey when he’s home this weekend.” Chelsea tried to shoot me a serious look, but shy humor still lingered.

“I swear, it’s our little secret.”

A few hours passed, and I was hopping out of the car in front of an apartment building. The sun had set, making it hard to make out all the surrounding details, but the building was attractive enough through the barely lit night.

Even in the limited light, like a moth to a flame, I found Trey leaning up against a wall. His arms were folded as he waited.

He sat up from the wall strolling to me and the car, a pleased smirk on his face. As he approached, I thought he might hug me, but he dipped last second, pulling my bag away to sling it over his shoulder. Then he placed a delicate kiss on my cheek, leaving me breathless.

“Hey, Mom. Thanks for driving her here,” he said, bending down into the open passenger door.

“Of course. I hope you guys have the best time,” she said.

“Are you sure you’re okay making that drive back right now? We can make room for you here tonight.”

Chelsea waved him off. “I work night shift. I’m used to functioning on little sleep. I’ll be fine. You two get inside and tell Chad I said hi.”

He shook his head. “I won’t be doing that, but okay. Drive safe. Let me know when you make it back.”

“I will—I love you both.”

I went rigid. That one was new.

That one phrase sparked a couple of raw emotions to the surface. Emotions I didn’t know how to name or address.

“Love you too, Mom,” Trey said before shutting the car door and looping his arm around my waist, leading me to his apartment .

Chelsea loved me. I was loved.

Gosh, I had to stop thinking about it or I was going to cry like an idiot right here and that wasn’t what this weekend was for. This weekend was for fun, making friends, and being with Trey.

Trey gripped my hip tight against him. “You’re quiet. Is something wrong?”

I shook my head, hoping to break free of my scattering thoughts. It didn’t work.

“Yeah, sorry. That was a long drive and I’m a little tired.” I swung my arm around his back and returned his hold. “But I’m happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you too. I’m having a hard time believing you’re really here. It all feels a little unreal. Anyway, I should warn you. My roommates are all waiting in the living room. They’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

We went up a few flights of stairs that left me only entirely breathless, but I wasn’t crawling by the end, which I considered a win.

Not too far down the hall, after I took a moment to catch my breath, we reached a door. Trey opened it with a key. Through the opened door was a small lit up kitchen and just past that, three young men sat waiting.

Two were on a small couch, practically sitting on each other’s laps due to the sofa being too tiny compared to their massive builds. The other man was sprawled out across a large, plush beanbag.

The first man to approach me was tall, leaner than the other men with black curly, cropped hair, and deep brown skin. His smile was wide—familiar.

“Hey, little Mason.” He towered over me, pulling me into his rib cage for a bone-crushing embrace.

I tried to peek over at Trey, silently pleading for help, but he was passing us to put my bag on the kitchen counter. When the boy holding me tight, cutting off the circulation, finally pushed back to look at me, silver lined his big brown eyes.

I could only stare awkwardly. Obviously, he knew me, but I didn’t have a clue to who he was.

“I’m sorry. Remind me your name,” I tried to say gently, but I recognized the flash hurt in his eyes.

“Right, no memories. I guess I deserve that for the last time we saw each other.” He chuckled weakly.

Yeah, I wouldn’t know because I didn’t know when that last time was.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, taking a long step back from me. “I’m Noah Williams. I knew your brother—Liam. He was like an older brother to me.” He licked his lips, before smiling. “It’s-uh-good to have you here.”

The silence blanketing the air draped heavy over my shoulders as I smiled back. “Happy to be here,” I managed to say before twisting to the two unnamed men watching us.

“Alright, which one of you is Larson?”

The tall, incredibly pretty, Disney prince looking blonde before me cautiously pointed to himself.

“Chelsea says hi.”

The quiet carried for only a beat before Larson smirked.

“Of course she does.”

Then he turned on Trey. “You were supposed to let me know when they pulled up so I could go out and see my girl.”

Trey scoffed, but I spoke before he could retort. “And you must be, Bear?” I guessed, taking a step toward the broad and—well—bear-like man.

His shaggy hair and eyes were dark. Thick black hair nearly covered every square inch of visible light skin, and a groomed beard grew along his jaw.

A smile peeked through his facial hair as he bobbed his head up and down. I closed the distance, wrapping my arms around his wide form.

“It’s good to meet you,” I muffled into his chest .

He immediately returned the embrace, completely cocooning me in a—Bear trap.

“Alright, alright. It’s late,” Trey butted in, draping his arm over my shoulder. “We all have to get to bed. It’ll be a long day tomorrow, so goodnight. See you boys in the morning.”

He started leading me down a hallway, but Larson grabbed my arm, pulling me out from under Trey.