Page 41 of Dear Future Husband (The Dearly Written #1)

Before she could take one more step toward the exit, I had her hand in mine. She fought for only a second before following my tugging until she was back at my side on the bed.

“Tell me all about this competition,” I encouraged Penny as I leaned back. Reaching behind Maybelle, I played with the coiling curls falling down her back.

She grumbled a few colorful words under her breath as she slouched against my touch. Penny’s smile doubled in size.

“Okay, okay, so at the coffee shop Belles and I work at, there was this guy on her second day that came in and ordered from her. I’ll say this, he’s older, but he’s handsome.

He’s got gorgeous blonde hair and dresses all fancy.

Like in pressed slacks and stuff. But that’s beside the point.

He tips Maybelle every time he comes in, just for taking his order! ”

She paused, slanting Maybelle a smile. “But the craziest part is that ever since that first day, he’s been at the coffee shop every single day.

The days Maybelle isn’t there, he grabs his coffee and leaves.

But the days she’s in, he takes a seat at one table in the far corner of the shop and just watches her. ”

Furrowing my brows, I looked to Maybelle, who seemed totally unbothered by this. I turned back to Penny and asked, “What’s his name?”

Maybelle peered up at me, confusion in the lines between her brows while Penny chirped, “Rick, I think. That’s what we write on his orders. Right, Belles?”

She didn’t look at Penny. Her eyes were on me. I twisted, meeting her blue-green stare with my own.

“Why do you want to know his name?”

I shrugged. “So, I know I have the right guy when I come into your work to teach the prick it’s not polite to stare.”

“Please,” she scoffed, breaking our eye contact. “You’ll do no such thing. He hasn’t done anything wrong and I’m not so sure it’s me he’s staring at. I’ve caught him eyeing Penny on more than one occasion.”

“I don’t care who he’s staring at, May,” I said, nudging her with my shoulder. “I’ll still kick his ass.”

Penny giggled and checked her pinging phone before launching up from the bed. “Oh Trey, you’re such a dreamboat. Take care of my bestie, will ya? I gotta go. Daniel’s here to pick me up. I’ll see you both later.”

With a blown kiss, she left the room and shut the door. Leaving Maybelle and me alone, still sitting side by side on Penny’s bed.

“You stink,” Maybelle muttered. “Did you come straight from the gym?”

Before I could answer, she was on her feet, headed for the closet. Again, giving me a fantastic view of her in those shorts.

“I—I was—Yes, I was at the gym.” Desperately trying to refocus I asked, “What’s got you in a sour mood?”

She turned to hit me with a look. “I’m not in a sour mood.”

Smirking, I gestured to the general area above her head. “Yeah, tell that to the dark cloud you got hovering over you.”

She rolled her eyes, but they didn’t return to me. They fell heavily on the journal resting on her mattress.

Peeling my eyes from her beautiful legs to the book, she watched like it might grow fangs and eat her, I stood to grab it. She turned away then and her rummaging in the closet had me halting where I stood.

“What’re you doing?”

She didn’t look back at me as she continued to sift through hangers and clothes. “Looking for a different shirt.”

“What? Why?” I barked, sounding a lot more frantic than I meant to.

She looked at me over one shoulder before returning to the closet. “Because I want to wear something less—irritating.”

“Rude.”

“What was tha—” she started to ask but was cut short with the surprise of me pulling at her by the back of my shirt.

“Trey,” she growled.

“Mayhem,” I mockingly growled back.

Puffing out a breath of surrender, she stopped rebelling and joined me on her bed.

The twin bed was propped in the far, right, back corner of the room. Allowing me to rest on the pillows and rear wall while she sat perpendicular to me. Her legs draped over mine, with her back against the side wall.

“What are you doing here, Turner? Didn’t I just see you this morning?”

I grabbed my book from the comforter. “Yeah, but I missed you.”

As she squirmed for a comfortable position, I opened the book to an entry she wrote about her and Liam learning to drive.

She’d gotten the hang of it fairly easily and passed her test on the first try.

Liam, on the other hand, ran over every single cone and had to retake the test three times before he finally passed.

God, I missed that guy .

“What are you reading?”

I couldn’t see her face over the pages as I flipped to a passage closer to the beginning of the book. “I read the entry about you and Liam getting your licenses.”

Snorting, Maybelle moved her legs from off me and settled next to me. Resting her back along the wall, giving her a better view of the scrawled-on pages. “That was a funny one... You’ve read the whole thing, right?”

I looked away from the book to Maybelle. She wasn’t looking at me, but her hands were fidgeting together on her lap as she stared forward.

I nodded.

“Can you tell me what I was like before the accident?”

I’ll admit, I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting her to ask that. So, I said the first thing that came to my mind, “Quiet—I think you preferred books over people. But while I and many others had mistaken it for shyness, I think it was heaviness.”

I didn’t think that exactly made sense, but Maybelle nodded again, seeming to understand.

I knew where this was going, and it hollowed my gut out as those perfect blue-green eyes found mine. “So, you know what happened to her—I mean—me and Liam?”

I did, and it was devastating to think about. To think my best friend and this beautiful girl had gone through so much and no one knew— none of us knew .

Maybelle was always reserved, off in her own world. We just thought she preferred the solitude. But Liam… There was no guessing of the hell he had endured in his life because he was always good, always “happy”.

I felt sick the day I got to the sections of the book that Maybelle admitted to the cruelty they survived.

The sick feeling surfaced more from a desperate place of helplessness.

I could only read and relive those horrible moments with an innocent little Maybelle.

Unable to fix or do anything about it because it was already done.

I was powerless, clutching to the book the way I wanted to hold her in a time where she felt utterly alone.

“Yeah, May, I know,” I whispered.

She sighed, dropping her head to my shoulder. “Is it bad that I don’t know how to feel about it?”

“What do you mean?”

Her shoulders nudged up and down in a lazy attempt at a shrug. “I don’t know. It’s depressing and infuriating. I’m angry at that man for what he did to those children—for what he did to me, but I’m also angry with myself.”

Twisting, I turned to look down at her. She lifted her head with my movement.

We were close. So close I realized I had let the book settle on my lap and rested one hand on the bare expanse of her thigh.

Careful, Turner.

Not the time, nor the place.

Slipping my hand down to a more appropriate place on her knee, I looked her in the eyes. I was desperately trying not to ruin this moment between us. She was finally opening up, which was something she hadn’t done since the Juliette fiasco.

I refused to lose the moment, especially to a topic as serious as this.

“Why are you angry with yourself?”

Maybelle’s exterior was numb as she dropped her gaze from mine to the book on my lap.

“She gave up. She fell apart. She stopped trying to live a happy life— I stopped trying to live. And while I don’t understand my own…” She shook her head incredulously. “ Trauma —I can’t help but think that deep down I’m weak. That maybe I’m meant to quit.”

Her eyes returned to mine.

She watched me, and I took the moment to watch her right back. Then I reached for the book.

“May I?” I asked and Maybelle nodded. “While you slept, this book was the only thing I had. The only thing that gave me hope. Hope that I would one day get to know the girl in the writing. I read it every day. Took it with me everywhere. I practically memorized the whole thing.”

I opened the book to the very last page and handed it back to her. “Out of everything, this entry was my favorite. I read it every time I was feeling too alone.”

Maybelle looked from me to the book and swallowed hard as she read the first lines.

Dear Future Husband,

I want to live.

I just had the craziest roller coaster of a night ever.

I went to a party, by myself! Not by choice, but that’s beside the point.

I pushed through it alone. It sucked at first, little awkward at times, scary at others, but Trey Turner was perfect.

I think my little infatuation with my brother’s best friend just became a serious crush.

But we can talk more about that another time.

Right now, I want to tell you that I’m done just existing through each day, barely scraping by quietly. I am done being the ghost.

I want to live.

I want to make memories, good and bad ones. If tonight has taught me anything it’s that I can be happy even through the bad times. I could focus on what went wrong for me tonight, and regret coming, but I won’t!

I experienced adrenaline, excitement, courage, fear and I feel triumphant. I can overcome my body’s reactions to fear. I can overcome my anxieties. I can beat the past and I will.

Like Mom told me earlier tonight , all it takes is a leap and I think I’m ready. I am ready to dive headfirst back into life. To wrestle back my happiness, my freedom and my hope. To live the way I want.

The past hurts, but I’m not going to fear the future because the past sucked. I’m going to live a great life knowing that I survived the past. And if I can make it through that, then I can get through it all. I know it will take time, but today, I feel the change.

I am ready to smile again. I am going to create memories, make friends, go on dates, go to school, learn something I love, and I am going to be great. Because you and I deserve a Maybelle that strives to be great.

I love you,

Maybelle Mason

When Maybelle finished reading, I cleared my throat. Her watery eyes blinked up at mine.

“You wrote that the night of the accident. You wanted to change, you wanted to beat the past, and I think you did. I think you woke up from your coma ready to start over. To make the most of your life despite the tragedy. You could’ve used every excuse to hide from the world and fall apart, but you didn’t. You woke up, and you ran, May.”

The numb indifference that had been present from the moment I showed up tonight melted from those wide eyes. She looked at me the same way she had that night on the beach and the night we shared our first kiss.

She stared up at me with so much vulnerability, openness, and acceptance. There were no walls when Maybelle looked at me like this. There were no locked doors barring me from her. It was all open, inviting, and I wanted to rush in.

Let her lock the door behind me and never leave.

“The Maybelle then and the Maybelle now aren’t quitters,” I said. “I think you just needed time, time to find yourself again,” I whispered, noticing that when she nodded, her lips nearly brushed mine.

Don’t run. Let me in. Let me stay.

My eyes closed and I almost let my desperate thoughts out between us. I was damn near ready to beg, but Maybelle’s hand on my shoulder stopped me short.

When I opened my eyes, her eyes were closed. She didn’t open them as she rested her forehead against mine.

“You just liked that entry because I talked about having a crush on you, huh?”

With our heads still pressed together, we both laughed under our breaths. I didn’t answer her as both of her hands came up to cup my face, her eyes remaining closed.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Then she broke my heart as her eyes opened, and I was shut back out. “It’s getting late.”

Drowning would’ve felt better than the way my lungs and idiotic heart constricted.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

Maybelle lifted one of her hands from my face to brush at the hair that fell over my brow. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our walk?”

“Of course.”

A smile graced her full lips, but it didn’t meet her eyes as she said, “Good night, Trey.”

Depleted of my will to live, I slipped off the bed, but stopped when I reached her bedroom door.

Every instinct was kicking at me to go back.

To kneel before her and plead with the girl that owned every part of me to keep me.

To let me keep her. As I looked back at Maybelle, who watched me back, my commitment to her was reinforced.

She was everything to me. The girl who watched me with those big, beautiful eyes and a closed off heart. One day she would let me in and would let me stay, because she was mine and I was hers. She was my vault, my crutch, my protector, my balance, and my anchor.

Maybelle Mason was my hope.

“Goodnight, Mayhem.” And I walked away.