You Only Need One
Contents (39)
You Only Need One
Lauren Connolly
For Mom & Dad
Thank you for reading to me every night and telling me Real Life Stories. You are both the reason I hear voices in my head.
(That’s a good thing)
Contents
Prologue
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
Epilogue
Thank You!
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
About the Author
Copyright © 2018 by Lauren Connolly
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at www.laurenconnollyromance.com
Cover Designer: Okay Creations
Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 978-1-949794-01-4
Prologue
HOLLY
“If you don’t talk to me, I swear, I’m gonna go crazy. Like punch a hole in the wall crazy.”
The room is quiet, except for the scratch of a pencil and the occasional crackle of stiff paper as I shift uncomfortably on the examination table. Luckily, I’m just getting the results of my blood test today, so I’ve got on jeans and a cotton T-shirt rather than the revealing gown that opens up in all the private places I don’t want my brother to see.
Marcus sits in the only normal chair in the room, foot crossed over his ankle, notepad propped on his knee, pencil skittering across the paper. In his own world, like always. Normally, I’d leave him to it, but today, I need a distraction.
“Which wall?” He keeps sketching.
“Which wall? Which wall? Does it matter?” I throw my hands up at the ridiculousness of his question.
“Only if you’re strong enough to break through the drywall.” Finally, he stops drawing, instead using his pencil like a professor would use a pointer during a lesson. He even sounds like one of my instructors. “Three of these walls”—he points them out—“you’d likely just get empty space behind. So, you’re good to go. But this one”—he reaches back to tap the one behind his head—“is a load-bearing wall. So, there are beams. I’m guessing steel. Punch one of those, and you’ll break your hand.” Finished with his lesson, Marcus goes back to his work.
I roll my eyes, a common occurrence around my big brother. “You architects. Think you know everything, don’t you?”