Page 51 of Just My Type (The Boston Hearts #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

HANNAH

“ F uck yes,” I mutter, my fingers flying over the keyboard.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of one of Hallie’s guest room beds, my laptop on my knees and a Twizzler dangling from my mouth, the final scene plays in my head like a movie, my only job to translate the movie into words on the screen.

My heart soars, my chest as light as air as I type the final paragraphs.

They flow from my brain, my characters speaking to me as the culmination of the story I never thought I would be able to write unfolds in front of my eyes.

When the scene finally ends, the final sentence on the page, I take a deep breath and type the words I didn’t think I would ever type again.

The end .

My fingers freeze on the keyboard, my breath hitching and tears flooding my eyes as I scan the screen, looking at words and words and words. Words I wrote. Good words. Great words even. A whole entire book, when I thought I would never write another book ever again.

Emotional as fuck and so excited I could scream, I reach for my phone and snap a picture of those last two words I just typed. Maybe the most important words I have ever typed. As I stare at the picture, my phone dings with a message and I take a sharp breath in, anxiety curling in my stomach.

Brett

I know you’re here in Pittsburgh for your sister’s wedding. You weren’t even going to come and see me? After everything we’ve been though together? Jesus, Hannah, I thought you were better than that.

I read his words over and over again, my resolve strengthening with each pass because honestly, fuck him.

Fuck him so hard. Swiping away the message, I go to Brett’s contact and do the thing I should have done months ago.

I hit Block Contact , my breath whooshing out of my lungs and relief flooding me.

Asshole. Good fucking riddance.

Navigating back to my messages, I pull up my thread with Noah and attach the picture I just took to a text.

Me

[picture attached]

I FUCKING DID IT.

Noah

YEAH YOU DID.

THAT’S MY FUCKING GIRL.

*WIFE

THAT’S MY FUCKING WIFE.

Me

Bold of you to say that word. You’re lucky my sisters aren’t looking over my shoulder right now.

Noah

I like to live on the edge, Han. You know this about me.

Fuck, I’m so damn proud of you.

Me

I wish I could kiss you right now. I could never have done this without you.

Noah

You could have. You’re amazing and brilliant and your books are romance perfection.

Me

Okay fine, I probably could have. Eventually. But I did it better with you.

Noah

Damn right, you did. It was the thing I did with my tongue yesterday before you flew to Pittsburgh, right? That’s what gave you the inspo to finish.

Me

Oh, no doubt about it.

Noah

Really?

Me

Uh, no. But the thing with your tongue was still pretty great.

Noah

Oh, I know it was.

I wish I was with you right now.

Stupid brothers.

Me

You love your brothers.

Noah

Okay fine, I do love my brothers, but I miss you. Two things can be true.

Me

Two things can, indeed, be true.

And I miss you too.

Noah

Gorgeous, that’s the best news I’ve ever heard.

Me

And there’s something else.

Noah

Give it to me, baby.

Me

How can you make literally anything sound dirty?

Noah

It’s a gift.

Me

I’m taking the deal, officially. My agent is my next text.

Noah

Goddamn right you are. And the day the new publisher publishes your first book, we’re taking a road trip to see it in every bookstore we can find.

Me

Now that is a road trip I can get behind.

Noah

You’re amazing. Brilliant. Absolute utter perfection.

And mine.

You’re fucking mine, Hannah. I adore you.

“What’s going on with your face?” I whip around to see Hallie leaning against the doorframe, grinning at me.

“That’s her Noah face.” Jo pops up behind Hallie, standing there with a matching grin.

I beam at both of them, not even bothering to protest that it’s not, in fact, my Noah face because it so is. But it’s also something else. “It’s also my I finished my book face.”

“Fuck yes!” Jo shrieks, bouncing into the room and taking a flying leap onto the bed next to me, tackling me in a hug.

As if such a thing were possible, Hallie’s grin spreads wider as she comes in and drops down on my other side. I never told her I was having trouble writing, but I’m positive Jo took care of that for me. “Happy looks good on you, Hans.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” I say, leaning a head on Hallie’s shoulder as Jo takes my hand.

A comfortable silence falls between us as the three of us sit there, connected.

And I don’t know whether it’s the three of us being together for the first time in a while, or the fact that I finished my book, or Brett being out of my life forever, but my mouth opens and words I don’t expect come right out.

“I’ve been keeping something from you both,” I start, looking back and forth between them. “Something I want to tell you now. It’s about Brett.”

I feel both of my sisters sit up straight, as if they know what I’m about to tell them is heavy, and they are preparing themselves to carry my burden.

I love them so much. I scoot back on the bed, curling my legs under me so the three of us sit in a circle on the bed.

And with a deep breath, I open my mouth and tell them everything.

The truth about my relationship. How unhappy I was for so, so long.

How resentful Brett was about my writing.

How much he tore me down. How I pretended it didn’t bother me instead of what it really was, which is death by a thousand pounds of mental load and tiptoeing around his anger.

His hands around my wrists at the bar, and the way Noah found us.

The downward spiral. How writing got hard and then how I couldn’t do it at all, because of him.

The final night. Hands around my wrists and hips pinning me down.

Brett ignoring the word stop . The real reason I went to Boston.

I look down at my hands. At the nails I painted bright purple earlier tonight during our manicure party—Jo’s big fuck you to our mom who insisted that we all have nails professionally done for the wedding in the most boring neutral shades imaginable.

Then I look back up at my sisters, who are watching me not with pity, but with a love so intense it has my heart clenching.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. Sharing parts of my life doesn’t come naturally to me, and I just felt…

stupid I guess? I knew my relationship wasn’t healthy.

I knew that it didn’t make me feel the way a good relationship should make you feel.

I was anxious all the time unless I was writing, and then I couldn’t write and I was terrified but god, I was so angry too.

I’m still sorting all of that out. But more, I was embarrassed.

I always thought I was an anxious person, but it turns out that all my anxiety came from him.

What kind of person doesn’t leave her boyfriend after he puts bruises on her wrists in public?

Who stays for so many years after that?”

I take a long, slow breath and let it out, and when I do, it feels like I’m exhaling a weight I didn’t even realize I was still carrying.

“No.” Hallie’s voice is serious, her eyes fierce as she takes my hand, holding it tightly.

“It’s not your fault, Hannah. None of this is your fault.

You didn’t deserve any of it, and you made what felt like the right decision at the time.

And when you were ready, you made a different choice.

You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.

Not ever, and definitely not with us. I’m proud of you, Hans. So fucking proud of you.”

“Me too,” Jo says, wiping under her eyes, catching the tears that escape and then taking my other hand.

“But you need to know that I would be proud of you even if you never wrote another word, ever again. I know opening up doesn’t come naturally to you, and I’m really glad you did.

You’re my sister, Hans. One of my very favorite people in the world, and I’ll always be here for you. ”

“Always.” Hallie squeezes my hand. “I might not live where you live, but I’m always just a phone call away. I’m really glad you told us too, and also that you ditched Brett because fuck that guy.”

“Are you okay?” Jo asks, voice uncharacteristically quiet. When I turn to her, she has concern written all over her face. “Because what Brett did was not okay at all. It was assault, Hannah. Brett assaulted you.”

I shake my head, my brain rejecting that word just like it rejected the word trauma when Cece said it to me a few weeks ago.

“She’s right,” Hallie says firmly. “You said no. You told him to stop. He didn’t listen.

That’s sexual assault. You’re the only one who gets to decide what you want to do with that, but don’t minimize what he did, Hans.

And if you feel like you need to talk to someone, we can help you get whatever help you need. ”

My heart squeezes, filled with love for my sisters. “Thank you. I’m okay, seriously.” It is, I suddenly realize, the absolute truth. “I wasn’t at first. Not for a long time. But I am now.”

“Does that have anything to do with a certain golden retriever-esque Wyles brother who is completely obsessed with you?” Jo asks with a grin.

I shrug. “Not exactly. Or, not entirely I guess I should say. It feels weird to say, but I think maybe Boston made me okay. When I think back, I can’t even remember getting from Pittsburgh to Boston that first time.

All I remember is getting in my car, and then I was pulling up at the Wyles’ house.

I walked in and you were sprawled in the living room with Amelia, Cece, and Pam and you guys welcomed me in like…

” I break off, trying to think of the right words.

“Almost like you were waiting for me or something. I remember that part so clearly because it felt like coming home.”