Until Fountain Bridge
(an On Dublin Street novella)
By Samantha Young
Copyright © 2013 Samantha Young
All Rights Reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made
without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or
transmitted save with the written permission of the author. This work is registered with and
protected by Copyright House.
A Note to Readers
After the publication of On Dublin Street I was not only overwhelmed by the many readers who contacted me to tell me how much they enjoyed Joss and Braden’s story, but also by
how many that expressed their love for Ellie and Adam, and requested to read more about
them. Until Fountain Bridge is an answer to those requests and a thank you to my readers for their unwavering enthusiasm and support.
Readers should note that the Fountainbridge area of the city is actually spelled as one word
but I’ve taken artistic license and separated it into two words for series title continuity. Just thought you should know in case you try to look for it… I don’t want to get anyone lost on
the streets of Edinburgh. That would be bad.
Anyhoo, this is Ellie and Adam…
Happy Reading!
Chapter 1
It was always the same when you were looking for something in amongst a big pile of some
things—the something you were after was at the bottom of that big pile of some things. I finally dropped the last box on the other side of the room and wiped a streak of sweat from
my forehead.
When I’d moved in with Adam three months ago I’d promised him that all the boxes of
junk that I put in his spare room would be sorted out and tidied away within a couple of
weeks. I’d unfortunately reneged on that promise and wasn’t ashamed to say I was still
leaning on my tumor scare to get me out of the admonishment that should have followed. I’d
been diagnosed with my benign—and yet still terrifying—brain tumor eight months ago, a
diagnosis that not only traumatized my family and friend, Joss, but had kicked Adam, my
brother’s best friend, swiftly up the behind.
He’d finally admitted to everyone he was in lovewith me, and we’d hardly spent a day apart since. Although our relationship had changed, we
were still us and Adam tried not to treat me like I was made of glass. However, I’d noticed he
let me away with things he wouldn’t have before—such as cluttering up his clutter-free,
swanky duplex with all my rubbish—and I didn’t know if this was because of the scare or
because we were a couple now and he was compromising.
I swooped down on the last box with a grunt of triumph and ripped off the packing tape.
Inside I found exactly what I was looking for and smiled. I’d already upended the box and
sent my old diaries cascading across Adam’s hardwood floors before it occurred to me that
upending a box of diaries might cause scratches. Wincing, I did this silly little dance over the falling journals as if this would somehow, magically, soften the impact of their rapid descent.
It didn’t.
I dropped to my knees and picked up the books, checking the floors. Nothing. Thank God.