Forever Together (Forever Love #2)

Forever Together

Jade Whitfield

Copyright © 2016 by Jade Whitfield

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover art by Joshua Jadon.

Prologue

Cindy

"SHE SAID YES!" Brady screams and the crowd goes wild.

Seriously, you'd think it was him that had just got engaged rather than his best friend. He's so proud of 'his boy' Noah. It’s completely adorable. I suppose it has something to do with this being a day we never thought would happen. Noah Travers, hotshot quarterback and resident ladies’ man has actually become a one-woman man. Of course, that one woman just happens to be his stepsister, but that’s another matter altogether. You can’t help who you fall in love with.

Even though I’m unbelievably happy for Noah and Liv, I can’t help that little pang in my chest. I’m only eighteen and I have no business getting engaged, but I’d be lying if I said that after two years with Brady I wasn’t waiting for something... more. I suppose us moving in together should be good enough.

Brady jumps down from the chair he’s been cheering on for the last five minutes and looks me straight in the eye. Those chocolate brown eyes contain a pinch of mischief, a sprinkle of humor and a whole lotta love. The crowd drifts to make way for him and he walks through like a leader.

The guys from the football team slap him on the back and I see more than a few easy cheerleaders rub his shoulder before he shrugs them off. His eyes don’t leave mine though, not even for a second. His smile just gets wider and wider the closer he gets until finally, it practically covers his face and he’s standing right in front of me.

“Cinders. Now we got the good news, what do ya say we get outta here?”

“I don’t know; I am really enjoying this party. The smell of puke and the sight of Tucker playing tonsil tennis with two girls at the same time is just way too much fun for me to miss.” I shrug and smirk sarcastically.

He holds his hand out and I take it willingly, happy to be getting out of here. When I was sixteen, Tucker's parties were fun. It was entertaining watching some drunk guy sliding down the banister and freshman’s playing beer pong. Now not so much. I'm starting to think Liv’s got a point when she talks about how bad they are. Call me boring, but right now I just wanna go to bed. Preferably with Brady.

I keep a tight hold of his hand so as not to lose him in the mass of sweaty bodies grinding together like a low-budget porno. It’s like a furnace, the heat hitting me in the face. I can feel the sweat at the base of my back.

When I see the front door wide open, I practically push Brady along ready to get some fresh air to make a change from the cigarette smoke and the fumes from the three bongs working their way around.

Even on the front porch there are couples who have long passed third base and who by morning will be reporting about thirty pictures that they’re tagged in on Facebook.

“Get a room.” Brady mumbles and I don’t miss him turning his body to the side and shielding me from the sight.

He leads me down the path and pulls the car keys from his pocket, pressing on the little button to unlock his black Grand Cherokee. His hand lets go of mine and lays on my lower back, hurrying me up. He really doesn’t need to. Trust me, I want to get away and back to his as fast as he does. I trip on a dip in the pavement and let out a small scream before I’m grabbed round my waist and put back on my feet.

“Thank you for catching me.” I cock my head and bite my lip.

“I’ll always catch you Cinders, you should know that.”

It’s the night of our graduation and every teen movie ever made dictates that it should either be spent ridiculously drunk or rolling around with your High School crush. My only High School crush just happens to be my only High School boyfriend, so luckily for me, I don’t need to get into any mishaps in an attempt to win his heart. I already have it.

“Come on before I chuck you over my shoulder and go all Tarzan on you.”

I giggle and squeal when he wraps his arms around me and hoists me up, only letting me go to pull the door open. He pretty much throws me into the passenger seat before jogging round to the other side. 

He jumps in and looks at me with lively eyes, the chocolate brown reflecting my own.

“It’s a new start.” He tucks a strand of my dark hair behind my ear. “I fucking love you.”

He's so perfect, so handsome. How did I ever get so lucky?

“I love you too. Forever together.” I state, nodding my head.

“Pinky promise.” Brady holds his little finger and I wrap my own around it. This is the guy I’m gonna marry. I know everybody says that with their first love, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that not only is Brady Cooper my first love, but he is also my last.

“Pinky promise.”

Chapter 1

Two years later

Cindy

On seeing that old familiar sign welcoming me back to Franklin, the knot that has been ever present in my stomach since boarding the flight from LAX to Hilton Head airport definitely tightens. Why I agreed to come home for the Summer, I really don’t know. Well, actually I do, I was running out of money and if I didn’t get away from my depressing and very gothic roommate Vanessa, I'd probably kill her. Plus, the guilt of not seeing my family in almost six months was starting to eat at me what with my Mom's weekly phone calls, or guilt trips as I like to call them. There's only so many times a person can be updated on how long it's been until they finally get the hint and crack. It's not as if I haven't seen them on purpose anyway. Ok, maybe at first I was nursing a very broken heart and couldn’t face seeing a certain guy whose name begins with B, but since then I've simply been too busy. Ok, maybe I’ve been busy going through my three stages of a breakup as my self-help book referred to it, but I would never tell my Mom that. I'm so done with that stupid book now anyway. Not only was it totally inaccurate, but in hindsight it was pretty unhealthy. I dread to think how many girls out there take it as gospel. I'm not one to talk though seeing as it was my obsession for a while. Maybe I should send the author a bill for my semester, it was her book that basically guaranteed my failure this year after all.

              The first stage was crying while watching terribly sad movies and eating chocolate and ice cream. I officially will never be able to stomach watching 'My Sister’s Keeper' ever again. All the junk food had me gaining like ten pounds too, though stage two easily rectified that problem. Yes, apparently the way to recover from a broken heart is to take on a raw vegetable diet and volunteer. That helped for a total of about five minutes until I realized it was actually no help at all. That led onto stage three which was to drink the pain away. Yes, someone actually published this crap! That basically undid most of the good from stage two seeing as though when volunteering at a rehab center, it’s not surprisingly frowned upon to turn up hungover and smelling like a distillery. Anyway, I created my own stage four which was definitely my favorite. Oh yes, burning the damn book actually turned out to be the most therapeutic thing of all, even when my little trashcan bonfire activated every sprinkler system in my apartment block.

I park up in front of the white country style house that I grew up in. It looks exactly the same as it did at first sight when I was just five years old with its black window shutters and white front door with a single pane of glass filling the top half. The only thing stopping our nosy neighbors seeing inside is a white and blue checkered curtain which is drawn across. I can see my little sister Bailey's toys littering the driveway in front of my Dad's cherry red Chevrolet S-10 and my Mom's silver 2001 Toyota Sienna. Me being the second oldest of five kids, my Mom definitely needed a minivan.

              After a six and half hour flight I’m looking forward to getting some shuteye as well as my Mom's famous apple pie that I have no doubt is currently baking. It’s my Mom's signature for any special occasion. I wouldn’t call me coming home with my tail in between my legs a special occasion but I know my Mom is super excited. She’s a typical Mama bear that lives for her kids. I think if she could, she would keep us all living at home till we're ninety if only to feed us sweet treats and get all the gossip because if my Mom is anything, then it’s the world biggest gossiper.

              I walk up the stone path, avoiding Bailey's pink Barbie tricycle that lies on its side and a purple scooter that’s obviously been thrown aside as she’s rushed into the house. I briefly wonder whether I should knock on the door or just step right in. Even though this is my home, it’s not where I live anymore and hasn’t been for the past two years. I know my Mom would be extremely offended if I dared to knock on the door though so I simply pull the chrome handle down and walk right on in.              

As soon as I step over the threshold, my ears are instantly attacked with noise. Well this sure feels like home. I can hear Bailey screaming along with my Mom's soothing voice trying to console her. She’s many things my little baby sister, one of them being a complete spoilt brat. I can only pray I haven't gotta share a room with the little monster. I'd rather take the couch but there’s no room to argue in this house. My Mom may be a protective Mama bear but she rules the roost, no matter what my Dad says, and I know for a fact she'd never accept anyone sleeping on the couch. It’s pretty much a law in our house that seeing as there are seven of us including my parents, that the oldest kids that still live at home get their own rooms and the visiting kids which are now my older brother Luke and I, bunk with the younger kids. If Bailey still has the princess bunk bed she had six months ago then I’m totally stuck with her. This being a four-bedroom house and there being five kids, it’s the first time since Avery, my sixteen-year-old sister was born that every kid has their own room.

Last time I visited which was at Christmas, I was at Brady’s parents’ house. His parents usually spend Christmas skiing in Switzerland so we had his colossal mansion to ourselves which was heaven. This time I won’t have the same luxury of being able to practically run around the whole house naked and not have to worry about how long I’m in the shower in case I use all of the hot water up. Instead, I'll more than likely be sharing a room with my baby sister who may or may not still be wetting the bed.

"Hello!" I call out, resulting in the noise stopping for about three seconds before resuming and getting nearer and nearer.

A stranger would probably hightail it in the other direction but I grew up in a home filled with noise, laughter, and tantrums so I’m used to it. Hell, I was the one making this much noise at one time, though I was never as spoilt as Bailey. Being the youngest as there is a ten-year age gap between she and the previously youngest child Avery, I suppose it’s to be expected.

My mom rounds the corner to meet me in the hallway and her face instantly brightens my day. Even with all my worries, I know she can make it all better, but I’m a big girl now and it's time to get my big girl panties on and toughen up. My mom is basically me in twenty years’ time with her thick black hair which lies just past her shoulders and big brown eyes. All of the girls in my family look like her whereas my brothers Luke and Aiden are the image of my Dad.

"Oh honey, you never called to say you were on your way." She says as her arms wrap around me. There really is nothing like a Mother's hug.

"Sorry I totally forgot." I say as I struggle to breathe through her death grip.

"I missed you sweetie, your Dad is going to be so happy you're home. He’s at work but I’m gonna call him now and I’m sure he'll come back early."

"Dad's not home? I saw his truck in the driveway."

"Oh he got a new one for work. It’s very fancy. It’s got Martin Construction written on the side, you'll love it." That’s my Mom, excited for anything. I almost forget sometimes that being the daughter of first generation Italian immigrants, she didn’t get many nice things since my grandparents basically started from scratch in America.  

"CINDY! CINDY!" A six-year-old Bailey comes running towards me, her face still wet with tears.

"Hey Bailey." I crouch down and hold my arms out which she proceeds to throw herself into.

"Cindy, I missed you." She whispers into my ear. Now, this is the Bailey I love, however, I know her too well so I know that within ten minutes she’ll be stamping her feet and pitching a fit once she can’t get her own way with something.

"I missed you too." Yes, I definitely missed this Bailey, the sweet and lovable one. It’s the Regan MacNeil version I can live without.

I look up to see my Mom tapping something into her phone with a wide smile on her face. It’s probably a text to my Dad informing him I’m home. She looks up at me and quickly pockets it in the pouch of her apron.

"I’ve got some apple pie in the oven." HA! I knew it! "I didn’t know your flight was in yet so it won’t be done baking for a while. How about we go in the kitchen and I get you some iced tea? You must be so tired after that long flight."

"Ok." I smile.

"Bailey honey, why don’t you go play with your toys in the den?"

"But I don’t want to!" Bailey's pout comes out in full force.

"Well, your sister just got back and Mommy would like to speak to her without little ears being around." As well as being a complete spoilt brat, Bailey is also incredibly nosy and unable to hold her own water, a little like my Mom.

Bailey looks at me with shiny pleading eyes as if I’m able to do anything. I quickly avoid her gaze and look around the hallway with its paneling running halfway along the wall and upper walls covered in family photos. It’s weird how parents always seem to pick the most embarrassing pictures to put on display as is evident by a photo of me in only a diaper in the back yard with ugly ass pigtails in. That can actually be one of my first calls of business while I’m here, somehow burning that picture.

Eventually, Bailey gives up and storms away, hitting the soles of her bare little feet against the wooden floor in the hardest steps she can and grumbling to herself.

"Some things never change." I mumble.

"She’s going through an adjustment period what with Aiden leaving for college soon." My Mom shrugs.

Looks like some things definitely don’t change, being that Bailey can never do anything wrong. I hate to break it to my Mom, but if Bailey has to go through one of these adjustment periods every time there’s a change, then my parents are screwed. With five kids there’s always change and since Aiden’s leaving for the University of Virginia soon and then Avery will be going to college next year, she’s gonna be in an adjustment period for a long time.

"Ok." I simply answer, totally unconvinced.

"She'll grow out of it. Oh, how is Vanessa?" She asks while I follow behind her into the country style kitchen with its oak cabinets and white granite worktops.

"Erm... she’s good." I may have told a little white lie concerning my friendship with Vanessa. While my Mom thinks we're best buds who paint each other’s toenails and watch 'Pitch Perfect' together, in reality, she’s actually a super bitch and I suspect a devil worshipper. I can’t tell my Mom that though. I can’t tell her that I hate college and I hate LA and most of all I hate my purple lipsticked, heavy eyeliner wearing, heavy metal music listening roommate. She'd have me moved back home in a heartbeat.

"I’m glad. You should have brought her home with you. I would love to meet her."

"I know but she’s... Erm... going back home to her family?" That totally wasn’t supposed to come out as a question. I cross my finger behind my back and silently pray that she doesn’t call me out on my lie.

"Maybe next time then. So, tell me how long are you planning on staying home?"

"Probably until the end of Summer."

"Perfect, you'll be here for Avery’s birthday, that'll make your sister so happy. And I guess you'll be here for the wedding too?"

"Wedding?" My eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. I don’t know who the hell is getting married but I doubt I even know them. I mean, if someone I knew was getting married I'd know about it, right?

"Liv and Noah’s." At those three words, my face drops and I can feel the color drain out of it.

I haven’t seen Liv or Noah since I broke up with a certain guy whose name begins with B. Liv tried repeatedly to call me afterwards but seeing as she was back here in Franklin along with everyone else and I was in LA, I simply couldn’t face it. In the end, she gave up and there had been too many missed calls and unanswered messages for us to pick up on where we left off. The fact that all those missed calls and messages were possibly to tell me she was about to get married makes me feel like the worst person in the world right now.

"Sure, maybe." I look down at my feet in a bid to hide the tears that are building up in my eyes.

My Mom pulls some glasses out of the cupboard before pouring a generous amount of Ice Tea in each of them and topping them off with a slice of lemon.

"Have you spoken to Brady?" She’s still looking at the glasses but I don’t miss the hopeful tone of her voice. My Mom was definitely a fan of his as was every other member of my family.

"Mom." I groan, wanting this line of conversation to end.

"I’m just asking."

"Well, please don’t and you know that that name is banned in my presence."

She lets out a sigh and gives a slight shake of her head as she gives me the look. It’s the same old look she’s been giving me my entire life. It’s the look that says "You can’t keep burying your head in the sand." The truth is that I like burying my head in the sand and that’s the way it’s gonna stay. I’m just going to hide out here for the next three months and avoid Liv and Noah, and of course, he whose name starts with B, so that’s basically everyone, and then I'll go back to LA, back to my evil roommate and back to hating on my life.

"Where’s my little lady?" My Dad's deep voice distracts me from my self-pitying and head burying as I turn to see his smiling face as he walks through the den towards me.

His bright blue eyes are twinkling and the slight wrinkles at the corner of his eyes from forty-five years of laughing pull me out of my depressive state and I start running to him. I throw myself into his pot belly and breathe in his familiar spicy cologne.