Holding On

Holding
On

Holding
On:
Book
One

RACHAEL

BROWNELL

Holding On ~ book 1 in the Holding On
Series

Copyright © 2014 by Rachael
Brownell.

All rights
reserved.

Cover Design by Marisa Shor of Cover Me,
Darling

No
part
of
this
publication
may
be
reproduced,
stored
in
a
retrieval
system
or
transmitted
in
any way
by
any
means,
electronic,
mechanical,
photocopy,
recording,
or
otherwise
without
the
prior permission of the author as provided by USA copyright
law.

This
novel
is
a
work
of
fiction.
Names,
descriptions,
entities,
and
incidents
included
in
the story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events,
and entities is entirely
coincidental.

Published
in
the
United
State
of
America.

ISBN:  
978-1499390759

For my son Nicklas, the love of my
life.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my
f
amily.             

My
boyfriend,
Jeremy,
who
finds
a
way
to
make
me
smile
every
day,
who
puts
up
with
all
my
oddities
and
repeats
himself
countless times because I wasn’t listening the first time. My son, Nicklas, who
is the absolute center of my universe and always will be. I love you
very much.

My mom and dad, who have taught me a lot about life, how I
want
to live and who I want to be. Mom, you have always been my
greatest supporter—thank
you.

Finally,
my
sister
who
is
the
beauty
and
the
brains
in
our
family.
Julie, I could not be more proud of the person you have become.
Thank you
all
for
helping
me
become
the
person
that
I
am
today
and
supporting
me in my efforts to reach for the stars and achieve my
dreams.

I
would
like
to
make
a
special
thank
you
to
my
very
first
official reader,
Jessy.
She has been a great friend throughout the process of
this book coming to life and a huge supporter of my writing. She gave
me the
courage
to
submit
my
work
and
the
strength
to
remain
positive
if the outcome had been different. Thank you for your countless hours
of listening to me worry and complain, bounce ideas off of you, and
just plain talk about
myself.

Eight months,
that’s
not nearly long enough
, I thought. There are
so
many things that can change your life completely in eight months, but is this one of them? As I sit there, watching him pull his shirt
over his head, the muscles of his back rippling, the tattoo around his
bicep teasing
my
eyes,
I
realized
that
eight
months
should
not
be
long
enough to fall in love. But was
I?

I
think
I
was
trying
to
fight
those
feelings,
knowing
that
in
six
short hours, it would be
over.
Things were changing. If things could
change that much in eight months, then what would the next six hours
bring? What
about
the
next
four
months?
The
truth
of
the
matter
is
that
I
am pretty sure I fell in love with him the first moment I saw him. Then
his eyes,
they
remind
me
of
my
ring.
It’s
a
beautiful
dark-green
princess-cut emerald.
It’s
not
large,
but
the
color
is
defined.
In
the
darkness
of
the room, you cannot see the color clearly, but I can see it perfectly in
my mind.

Looking down, twisting my ring as I stare at it, I realize that I
will
never forget this man or the things that
he’s
made me feel. Getting lost in my thoughts, a dip in the bed brings me back to reality.
He’s
dressed
now,
but
his
proximity
to
me
makes
my
stomach
flip
anyway.
You
would think after everything
that’s
happened between us, I wouldn’t
be affected by him this
way,
but I think those feelings are just
intensified
now.
I have never felt this way about anyone before. His touch
charges my
body
in
a
way
that
nothing
else
does.
His
proximity
has
my
pulse racing
the
second
he
steps
into
a
room.
It’s
almost
like
I
can
feel
his presence before I can see
him.

A
year
ago,
I
would
have
never
pictured
myself
in
this
situation.
There was nothing more important to me than tennis. I had no time
for a boyfriend. I barely had time for my friends. I was completely
focused on
my
recovery.
I
lost
all
sense
of
focus
on
New
Year’s
Eve,
and
it
feels like
I
have
yet
to
regain
my
composure.
I
think
back
on
all
the
things that
have
changed
over
the
past
eight
months
and
realize
that
I
have changed too. My physical appearance, as average at it has always
been, is about the only thing that reminds me of who I use to be and even
it has changed in a way that I cannot
describe.

“So
what
time
do
you
have
to
leave
in
the
morning?”
I
ask,
glancing at
my
alarm
clock
over
his
shoulder.
I’ve
been
watching
it
all
night,
even before
he
showed
up,
and
it’s
now
close
to
3:00
a.m.
My
mom’s
at
work
and my sister is in the other room sleeping. She probably can’t hear
us, but I feel the need to whisper just in case. Or maybe I was
whispering
because I was afraid to hear his answer. Either
way,
it was hard to
miss the hesitance in my
voice.

He reaches over and grabs my hand, stroking my knuckles
lightly with
his
thumb.
For
a
minute,
I
think
that
maybe
he
didn’t
hear
me because
he
hasn’t
answered
yet.
I
want
to
ask
him
again,
but
I
can’t seem to find my voice. At the moment, I can’t even muster the
strength to
make
eye
contact
with
him.
I
know
that
he’s
looking
at
me,
but
I
don’t have
the
strength
to
look
at
him,
so
instead
I
just
stare
at
our
hands.
His
touch makes my hand feel like
it’s
on fire, and I am enjoying the
burn just a little more than I should be. I don’t want this to end. I don’t
want
to give up this
feeling.

“My parents think that I should try and be on the road by nine so
I can beat traffic.” He had a long way to drive, I think, and I should
not have kept him up so late. He should have stayed home to get some
rest.
We
had said our good-byes yesterday afternoon, but I couldn’t let
him go
without
one
last
night,
and
when
he
showed
up
a
few
hours
ago,
I knew
he
felt
the
same
way.
Now
he
was
going
to
be
driving
on
very little sleep, and I felt like an
ass.

“Huh.”
It’s
the
best
I
can
come
up
with
at
the
moment.
Like
usual, I am at a loss for words around him. I hear that he is saying
something
to me, but my mind is beginning to wander again. I can see the
barbell piercing
his
left
nipple
through
his
shirt,
and
I
feel
the
need
to
reach
out and touch it, to touch
him.

As
if
reading
my
mind,
he
reaches,
pulls
on
my
hand,
and
puts
it flat
against
his
chest
over
his
heart.
When
I
finally
look
up
he’s
staring
at me.
This
feels
all-too
-
familiar,
and
my
breath
catches
in
my
throat.
I
can feel
the
muscles
in
my
throat
constricting
as
I
try
to
exhale.
My
pulse
is racing, and the only thing I can think about is how much I want to
kiss him in that moment. I want to wrap my arms around his neck and
pull him to me. I want to hold on to him, to this feeling,
forever.

I have to say something, but I can’t find any words that I want
to share with him because I sure as hell can’t tell him I love him. I
don’t know
how
he’ll
react.
I
would
much
rather
live
in
my
little
bubble, where I can pretend for the next few minutes that maybe he does
love me
somewhere
deep
down
inside.
I
want
to
live
in
that
little
bubble where
I
feel
like
everything
we’ve
been
through,
everything
we
worked
so hard
for,
the odds that we beat were all for something greater than
a short-term
romance.

“So is that all you have to say? I’m leaving in a few hours and
you have
no
thoughts
to
share
with
me?
Because
I
find
that
hard
to
believe,” he
says,
pausing
only
for
a
brief
moment
like
he
needs
to
catch
his
breath before
he
continues.
I
can
feel
his
heart
rate
starting
to
increase
beneath my hand. His eyes are starting to dilate, and I’m finally able to
release the breath I’ve been holding. “If those are the only words that you
can manage right
now,
then maybe we can fill our time another
way.”

There
it
is—his
million-dollar
smile.
I
can’t
see
his
dimple
winking
at
me,
but
I
know
that
it
is.
He
runs
his
hand
through
my
long,
thick dark-brown
curls
and
starts
to
massage
the
back
of
my
neck.
As
he
leans towards me, I find myself playing with his pierced nipple. His lips
are centimeters
away
from
mine,
my
heart
is
pounding
in
my
head,
and
I can barely remember to breath. His other hand slides up my bare
thigh, and I close my eyes. I can feel the heat from his breath along my
jaw.
His lips graze the bottom of my ear lobe, and when I hear him
whisper
those three little words in my
ear,
I wonder if I am actually
dreaming. When he brushes my bottom lip with his tongue, I know that I am
wide
awake.