Page 96 of Just My Type
“Yeah, we do,” Jordan says shoving both of us towards the door. “We’re out. Catch you at the alter, Coop.”
“Shit, Jord. You’re getting married tomorrow,” I say, bumping my shoulder with his.
The grin he gives me is wide and dazzling and hits me right in the chest. And with my brothers by my side, we head out to get our girls.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
HANNAH
“Fuck 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 formy 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 hitBlock 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
