Lucky Star Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lucky Star

  By Allie Everhart

  Lucky Star

  By Allie Everhart

  Copyright © 2019 Allie Everhart

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Waltham Publishing, LLC

  Cover Design by Marisa Wesley of Cover Me Darling

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, things, and events are fictitious, and any similarities to real persons (live or dead), things, or events are coincidental and not intended by the author. Brand names of products mentioned in this book are used for reference only and the author acknowledges that any trademarks and product names are the property of their respective owners.

  The author holds exclusive rights to this work and unauthorized duplication is prohibited. No part of this book is to be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  Chapter One

  Star

  Luck. You either have it or you don't. I don't. But that might be starting to change, with the exception of my car which completely died this morning.

  But I'm trying to look on the bright side. And on the bright side I'm starting a job today. A real job where I'll finally make decent money. And I have my own apartment now. Well, it's not mine. I live there with some guy and his girlfriend but at least I'm no longer living in my parents' basement. I'm finally on my own, in a new city, with a new job.

  So yeah, things are going well, except for the fact that I have to bike to work today. But hey, it's good exercise, right? I've heard positive thinking leads to positive results so I figure if I keep looking on the bright side, my luck will keep changing for the better.

  Something wet hits my face. I ignore it and keep riding my bike, a hand-me-down from my brother. It's a blue ten speed that's rusted because he always left it outside. I wasn't going to move it here but at the last minute I decided to take it just in case my car gave out. Good thing I did or I might've missed my first day on the job, which could've meant losing the job, which can't happen. I really need this job.

  Another drop of wetness hits my face, then another. I glance up at the sky. It's clouding over and getting dark. It better not rain. I'm wearing brand new black dress pants that ate up a good chunk of my pitiful savings.

  A drop hits me right in the eye. It burns and stings and blurs my vision.

  "Shit," I mutter, blinking repeatedly as I pedal faster.

  Thunder booms from above and the few drops of rain become a steady downpour.

  "Seriously?" I yell at the sky as the thunder booms again. "You couldn't give me a break today? Just one lousy break?"

  I'm almost at work. If I'd left just a few minutes earlier I would've beat the storm but how was I to know it was going to rain? I don't watch the weather.

  My new pants are getting soaked and sticking to my legs. At least my blouse is covered by my jacket, but the sleeves are riding up as I grip the handlebars. I can already feel the water seeping up my arms. Damn! Why didn't I leave earlier?

  I'm approaching a stoplight and see the countdown on the walk button. It has eight seconds left. If I hurry I can make it across the street. The office is just a block away. I'm ten minutes early. I'll get there, run to the restroom and use the hand dryer to dry my clothes.

  I hunch down and pedal faster, my eyes focused on the countdown timer, which is now at five seconds. As I enter the intersection I'm hit by a force so strong it launches me from my bike. Thunder claps, and for a moment I think I might've been struck by lightning.

  My body lands in the street with a thud, my head hitting hard against the wet pavement. I see stars, then my vision fades in and out. I hear yelling but it sounds distant, like an echo.

  Cars start honking and I hear a man's voice.

  "Miss, are you okay?" he asks.

  I feel him next to me but can't see him. My eyes are closed. I feel like I'm falling asleep.

  "Talk to me," he says. "Tell me where it hurts."

  Pain shoots through my head and remains there, throbbing, getting worse by the second.

  Cars start honking and someone yells, "Get out of the damn street!"

  It's followed by more honking and then someone yells, "She's been hit!"

  Voices start chattering all around me. I feel people there but can't see them. My eyelids are heavy. Too heavy to open.

  "Stay back," the man beside me yells. I feel him covering me with something. Maybe a jacket?

  It all seems to be happening in slow motion. It feels like I'm not really here. Like I'm just watching from afar. Am I dead?

  "Miss, can you tell me where it hurts?" the man next to me asks, but I'm unable to answer. Instead I moan a little as my head falls to the side.

  Warm strong hands slip under my neck and I hear the man again. "Don't move. You don't want to damage your spine."

  His hands move to the side of my head, holding it in place.

  "I'm so sorry." His voice is soft and steady but I can hear his concern. Why is he worried? What's wrong with me? Am I dying?

  "You're going to be okay," he says, which makes me wonder if I asked the question out loud. I don't think I did. I can barely open my eyes so I doubt I was able to talk. "The ambulance is on its way."

  The man's hand continues to hold my head in place while his other hand reaches down and wraps around mine. "I know you're scared but I'm right here. I won't leave you. I promise." He lightly squeezes my hand. "Just stay with me, okay?"

  My eyes try to flutter open but can't. It's like they've been weighted down.

  "Stay with me," I hear the man say as he clutches my hand. "They're almost here." I hear him exhale a long heavy breath. "God, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

  Chapter Two

  Earlier that Morning

  Corbin

  Lauren comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, using another one to blot the water from her long blond hair.

  "We need to be at my parents' house by six on Saturday," she says. "We can't be late. They want to leave at seven to beat the traffic."

  "There's no traffic on a Saturday morning," I say, going past her to the bathroom. I shut the door but she continues to talk.

  "It doesn't matter if there's traffic or not," I hear her say from the bedroom. "You know how my father is. He'll be very upset if we don't stick to the plan."

  Lauren's the same way. She has a plan for everything and trying to veer from that plan just leads to arguments, which is one of the many reasons we argue so much.

  Not responding to her comment, I pick up my razor and run it along the side of my face, then rinse it in the sink, turning the water on all the way.

  "I'll pack your bag when I get home tomorrow," she says. "I'll be packing your navy suit for dinner and I'm going shopping to get you a new tie."

  She's bought me at least twenty ties. I have so many I can't even wear them all. I do
n't even like ties. Even when I wear them loose I still feel like I'm being choked. Lauren knows this and yet she still buys me ties, then tries to make me feel guilty if I don't wear them.

  "On the way there you should wear the khakis and your green polo shirt," she says. "Oh, and wear those new loafers Mother got you. You know the ones that match Father's?"

  Lauren's mother bought me shoes. Stuffy old man loafers that are the same kind her father wears. As if it's not bad enough my girlfriend tries to dress me, now her mother's doing it too.

  "And don't think for one second you're bringing those sneakers you love so much," she says, raising her voice to make sure I can hear her over the running water. "I can't believe you tried to wear those to dinner last week with John and Liz. Honestly, Corbin, sometimes I just don't understand you."

  It isn't just sometimes. She never understands me. Never has. Because she doesn't listen. When I try to tell her what I think or how I feel, she interrupts and talks about something else. She doesn't want to know the real me. If she did, she wouldn't be with me. The Corbin she knows is the one she wants me to be. The one who likes wearing ties, and shoes that match her father's. The one who likes taking weekend trips with her parents and putting on a suit for what's supposed to be a casual dinner with friends.

  None of those things are me. They should be, given my upbringing, but they're not. And nobody, not even my own family, accepts that, which is why Lauren and I started dating in the first place. I did what was expected of me. I chose a rich, intelligent, career-driven woman who comes from a good family.

  Given that criteria, I could've picked someone else. There are plenty of other women in the Boston area who have those characteristics. But I chose Lauren because I already knew her. Our families have been friends for as long as I can remember.

  Lauren was my first kiss. I was fifteen. She was fourteen. Our families took us on a summer trip to Nantucket and one night we were alone on the beach and I kissed her. It wasn't great but it made me feel closer to her. We'd shared something special that no one else knew about, and although we didn't date after that, we kept in touch. She went to a different school but we'd meet up now and then, just to hang out.

  We started dating in med school. Back then I didn't see her as my parents' choice. I knew they'd approve of her but that wasn't the reason I asked her out. I did it because she's beautiful, extremely smart, and I admired her ambition. And we had similar goals, or at least I thought we did. In reality, the only thing we had in common is that we both wanted to be doctors. Our differences didn't start to show up until we'd dated a few months but I ignored them because I wanted it to work between Lauren and me. It made sense for us to be together, and our families loved that we were a couple. They've been talking about us getting married for years. We're not even engaged and her mother is already buying bridal magazines.

  Lauren's mother will be furious when she finds out about the breakup. My father will be too. But I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending everything's great between Lauren and me when it's not. I can't keep telling myself I love her when I don't.

  Our relationship's been over for a long time but I haven't been able to end it. Every time I try, I tell myself I need to give it more time. Or I make excuses for why we're not getting along, like the fact that we both work a lot and never see each other.

  Work definitely puts a strain on our relationship but even if that wasn't an issue, we still wouldn't get along. We're too different. We want different things. And at this point, neither of us is invested enough in this relationship to keep it going. It's not that I haven't tried. I've read books. Read relationship advice online. I've even asked Lauren to go to couple's counseling, which caused a huge fight because she assumed I was trying to tell her there's something wrong with her.

  That wasn't it at all. I suggested counseling because I thought it would help us communicate better. Figure out how to talk to each other so we could stop arguing so much. But Lauren refused, and now, whenever we start to argue, she changes the subject or leaves the room. She's decided to deal with conflict by avoiding it, which has only made things worse.

  The bathroom door swings open and Lauren appears, now dressed in a black skirt and beige blouse, her hand on her hip. "Corbin, are you even listening to me?"

  "I have to get ready," I tell her as I slide the razor over my chin.

  She huffs. "Like I don't? I still have to do my hair and you won't even let me use the bathroom."

  "There's another bathroom down the hall."

  "Then YOU use it. I need this one. All my products are in here." She pushes past me to open a cabinet.

  This is my apartment, not hers. I never asked her to move in. She just did it, gradually bringing her things over and leaving them here, hoping I wouldn't notice. When I called her on it, she said it made more sense for her to live here because it's closer to the hospital where we work. I didn't argue with her because I thought living together could be our final test to see if this relationship could be salvaged. Unfortunately, it just proved once again how incompatible we are and confirmed my decision to end things.

  "We need a new place," Lauren says as she runs a glossy liquid through her hair. My bathroom cabinets are overflowing with her hair products and make-up. I barely have room for my stuff.

  "This is my grandfather's place." I tap the water off my razor and place it in the one drawer I have left since Lauren took all the others. "I'm not moving."

  "Your grandfather could rent it to someone else," she says, leaning forward to inspect her eyebrows in the mirror. She's obsessed with her eyebrows. She's always plucking them, combing them, then plucking them again. "We need a place that's ours. A place we both pick out."

  Both? I almost laugh. If we were choosing a new place I'd have no say in it.

  "I have to get dressed." I walk out of the bathroom to the bedroom and go to the closet. I hear the blowdryer turn on as I change into my pants and dress shirt.

  Just as I'm about to leave, the blowdryer shuts off and Lauren storms into the room, her hands on her hips.

  "I'm so sick of you not listening to my concerns."

  "Lauren, I—"

  "Don't you even CONSIDER how I feel living in a place that's not mine?" She steps closer to me, her eyes narrowed. "I'm not even going to ask you anymore, Corbin. I'm just going to do it. I'm going to go out next week and find us a new place."

  "Good idea," I say, folding my arms over my chest. "But I'm not going with you."

  I hadn't planned to do this today, and definitely not now, when I need to be heading to work, but it can't wait. I can't take another day of this.

  "Of course you're going," she says. "And you're going to like whatever I pick out."

  "I'm not going." I look her in the eye. "Lauren, I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore."

  "Do what?" she snaps.

  "This. The constant arguing. Being told what to do. What to wear. I can't do it anymore."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "I'm done. This relationship is over. It has been for a long time but neither one of us wanted to admit it."

  "You can't be serious," she says with a laugh. "We're getting married, Corbin. My mother's already looking at wedding invitations."

  "Which she shouldn't be doing. We've never even talked about marriage."

  "Because we don't need to. We've been dating for years. We live together. The next step is to get married. It doesn't need to be said."

  "I'm sorry but it's not going to happen. It's not what I want. And I don't think you do either."

  She shakes her head really fast. "I don't have time for this. Go to work and we'll talk about this later." She storms off to the bathroom and slams the door.

  "Lauren." I walk across the room and knock on the bathroom door. "Lauren, I'm serious. I've thought about this a lot. I've tried to make it work with us but it's just not. We need to end this." I try the door handle but it's locked. "Lauren, open the door."

  The
hair dryer turns on. She's tuning me out. Giving me the silent treatment because she refuses to talk about this or even acknowledge what I said. Once again, it's all about her. She doesn't care what I want.

  There's no use trying to talk to her now. I'll have to try again tonight. Knowing Lauren, it'll take several tries before she finally listens to me and moves out.

  I walk over to the nightstand, grab my phone and leave. On my way to the hospital, I hit traffic that's worse than usual. It's raining and traffic always gets worse when it rains.

  My phone rings and I see it's my father calling. I answer it. "Hey, I'm on my way into work."

  "Yes, this won't take long. I was just calling to ask what time you and Lauren will be back on Sunday. Helen wants us all to go out for dinner. We haven't seen you two in almost three weeks now."

  "Sorry, work's been crazy. More for Lauren than for me. She's had to work double shifts."

  I finished my residency last year and now work at the urgent care clinic that's connected to the hospital. The job has regular hours so I can actually have a life as opposed to all those years of med school when I never had free time. Lauren's in the last year of her residency so she works constantly.

  "I'm sure you'll both be glad when she's done," my father says. "I assume that's when you'll propose?" His voice lifts slightly, which indicates he's telling me what he expects me to do. He always phrases it like a question but his tone implies the answer is already decided for me. But what he wants isn't going to happen.

  I can't get into this now. I need to tell him about Lauren and me but I'll do it later. And in person.

  "Dad, let's talk tomorrow. I need to get to work."

  "Son, I need to know a timeline here. Helen and Eve are planning a summer gathering to celebrate your engagement and they need to book a venue soon."

  Helen is my stepmother. She's almost as bad as Eve, Lauren's mom, when it comes to making plans for me without asking. For the most part, we get along, except for when she does stuff like go behind my back and plan an engagement party when I'm not even engaged.