The Workaholic and the Realist (New Hampshire Bears #2) (12 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Keaton

I sat at The Latte Bean, nursing my coffee and people watching. I came here often, but not in the past month, since hockey, school, my book, and especially Harlow had been taking up my time. I loved every moment of it.

I was twenty-five years old, and this was the happiest I’d ever been. I had a girlfriend, something I believed would never happen. I had a great hockey career that I had worked hard to accomplish. I was going to be finished with grad school in May, and I couldn’t wait. I loved going to school, but I was ready for my next adventure. Let’s not forget my book. Another something else I didn’t know I would finish.

“Of all the people to call me, you were the last person I expected.” Meadow took a place across from me in the empty chair.

“Thanks for meeting me. Do you want coffee? I’ll buy.”

“Nah, I’ve been up most of the night eating sugary snacks. If I add an espresso, I might explode.”

I chuckled.

“So, you said you needed some advice. Is this about Harlow?”

“Actually, no. She and I are pretty great. It’s about publishing. I know the basics, but I need to know more.”

“This is about your book? Is it done?”

I nodded. “It’s done, but I need…more.”

“All right. Do you have a cover?”

“No.” That’s right; I needed a cover. I’d forgotten all about it.

Meadow pulled out her phone. “I’m sending you an email address of a designer I’ve worked with in the past. She’s good.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly, Meadow launched into the ins and out of publishing on all major sites, how to upload, how to categorize the book, adding in keywords for searching the book, and most of all, pricing. She threw a lot at me, but I knew she was fluent in the publishing world because she was so successful.

“Are you going to use your name?”

I shook my head. “A pen name, Bret Knapp. It’s in honor of my grandparents.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet.”

“Thanks for everything, Meadow.” After everything she just told me, maybe opening my own publishing company would need to wait for a bit.

“Listen, when you go to publish yours, I’ll walk you through the steps.”

“Great.” Just like that, I was one step closer to publishing my book.

Harlow told me she had to get work done, and I couldn’t come by and distract her. Even though I wanted to, I left her alone. I finished my homework and worked on my final project a bit.

The designer Meadow suggested emailed me back, and we discussed what my vision of the cover might look like and what she could do with it. I would never admit it, but there was a little bit of girly giddiness in seeing the cover mock-ups.

I decided since I hadn’t seen Grams in a couple of days I’d go over there. Maybe we’d go out to dinner or something. It’d been a while since we’d hit the town. Of course, that was putting it mildly.

“Grams,” I called out coming into the house.

“Kitchen, Keaton Michael.” When I made my way to her, I smelled the aroma of mashed potatoes and meatloaf. I might have drooled a bit on myself. Grams made the best meatloaf in the world.

“I’ll set a place for you.” Felicia hopped up from the table and grabbed a plate, but I reached for it.

“I got it.” I sat at my usual spot and filled my plate with the scrumptious homemade food.

“How are things going for you?” Felicia asked, sitting across from me.

“Great,” I answered.

“How’s Harlow?” Grams beamed.

“Great.” I gave her the same answer.

“Where is she? I loved for us to have a family dinner.”

Even though Grams asked the question, my eyes drifted to Felicia who looked back at me. “She’s working. Maybe some other time we can arrange it.” I continued eating.

“Felicia got a job,” Grams informed me.

“Great,” seemed to be the appropriate comeback.

“She’s working for the Bears.”

My fork stopped midway toward my mouth. I froze. “What?” Maybe Grams made a mistake.

“It’s in the promotion's office.” Felicia smiled.

“What?” The team was constantly in and out of that office, especially me.

“Yes, I start next week.” She still held onto the happy expression.

“How the hell did you get that job?” In the pit of my stomach I thought I already knew the answer, but part of me hoped I was wrong.

“I interviewed.” She sat her fork down, and we began our stare down.

“And did my name come up?”

She remained silent.

“It did, didn’t it?” The anger began to rise.

“It may have.”

“Damnit.” I slammed my fork on the table and jumped to my feet. “How dare you use me to get a job?”

“It isn’t like that. They asked me if I had any relatives that worked for the Bears, and I told them you’re my son.”

“Bullshit. And I’m not your son because you’re not my fucking mother. A
real
mother doesn’t abandon her child, and that’s exactly what you did. You were never there for me. Ever. You have only cared about yourself, a needle, and alcohol. There has never been a time in my life that you’ve given one shit about me, because you’re nothing but a selfish bitch.” My ears rang so loud, and my heart was pounding from the adrenaline pumping through me.

“I’m sorry, Keaton, okay? I’m sorry about everything. If there was some way I could change it, I would in a heartbeat. But I love you. You might not believe me, but it’s the God’s honest truth. I’ve made so many mistakes, especially with you. But, you’re right; I’ve been a selfish bitch for a long time, and I want to change for you.”

“Don’t do that.” I waved my finger in her face. “Don’t say you’re changing for me, because it’s a lie. Just another lie to add to the never ending pile.”

“I’m not this time. I mean it. Do you want to even know why?”

“Sure,” I scoffed. “Go ahead and tell me another elaborate story.”

“I OD’ed. It was the worst yet. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, and the TV had a Bears game on.” Her voice cracked, and her eyes filled with tears. “Your team scored, and the camera fell on you. You were so happy; and you were so handsome. It had been so long since I’d seen you and …” She wiped a stray tear that had rolled down her cheek. “And I wasn’t the reason for your success.”

“No, you weren’t. Grams is the reason, and I’m the reason. Nowhere in my life are you the reason.”

“I know, and I have to live with it, but now, maybe, we can start anew.” There seemed to be hope in her eyes.

“No, and want to know why?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “Because you left me, like I was nothing more than trash.” I choked on the tears that came out of nowhere. “Fucking trash.”

I had no reason for actually telling her how I really felt. I’ve kept it down all these years. I knew how she was and how she’d treated me.

“Keaton.” Felicia rushed from her seat to me, and I realized Grams was no longer in the kitchen. “I never wanted you to feel that way. Never.” She reached for me, but I moved past her to go find Grams.

She wasn’t in the living room or on the front porch, so I headed to her room. The door was slightly open, and I lightly knocked.

“Come in, Keaton Michael.”

I pushed it open, and she sat on the side of her bed. She’d been crying.

“Grams.” I hung my head. She was the one person I couldn’t stand to cry. “I’m sorry.”

“I just wish you two would see eye-to-eye.” She dabbed her cheeks as I sat next to her and put my arm around her. “You have such a big heart and she needs your forgiveness.”

I sniffed the tears away. “I’m not in a forgiving mood with her.”

“She’s your mother. She’s the only one you’ll ever have.”

“But I have you.” I hugged her tighter to me.

“You always will. But a bond between a son and his mother is special. You need it.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Keaton Michael,” she leaned back and patted my cheek. “I love you more than the world. You’re a good man, and I know you’ll forgive her.”

It would be the one time Grams will be wrong.

I knew she had to work, but when I left Gram’s house all I wanted was Harlow. I could talk to her, and she’d give me the soundest advice. She was the smartest person, beside Grams, in my life.

When she opened the door, she was about to say something, probably to yell at me, but stopped.

“I’ve had a bad night.”

“Well, you’re in luck, puppy, because I have a brand-new bottle of wine and a great set of shoulders to lean on.”

I captured her lips. The kiss was meant to be soft, but soon, we’re both tearing off each other’s clothes, and I laid her down on the carpeted floor. I pushed myself as deep as I could into her. Harlow wrapped her long legs around my hips.

Neither of us lasted long, and soon I collapsed on top of her. “I’d say sorry, but I’d be lying.”

Harlow giggled. “I wanted it, too.”

“Me too.” I gave her a tiny kiss.

“Why don’t we clean up and then we can talk about what’s bothering you?”

With another swipe of my lips with hers, I pulled out, and we both made our way to the bathroom. We cleaned up together and went back into the living room. Harlow picked up the bottle of wine and glasses.

“Okay.” She sat next to me on the couch. She poured us both a glass and handed me mine. “I’m all ears.”

I gulped the wine down, took a deep breath, and told her everything that happened. This time, I didn’t cry like a bitch. I did tell her how I felt like trash and even the story about hockey camp.

Why?

I had no clue.

It was something about Harlow. I could be open with her, expose myself, and not feel judged. Judged was maybe the wrong term. But my name was Keaton Jaco, and I had to uphold my image of a headstrong, tough defense player. I couldn’t just sit around and talk about my feelings all day like some Dr. Phil program.

Then again, here I was spilling my guts out to Harlow.
Again
. She listened to me. Never interrupted me, never made fun of me, or acted like I was some whiny, sissy. She held my hand and poured more wine for us both.

“Grams really wants us to reconcile and bond. I get the point, but I still have my doubts. Being burned as many times as I have, who wouldn’t have doubts?”

“Puppy,” Harlow squeezed my hand. “I know I don’t completely understand your feelings, but I know it’s extremely rough on you. There’s no way you can get over it in an instant. It’s twenty-five years of hurt, but your grandmother is right, Felicia is your mother. Forgiving her would rebuild your relationship. You can still have a mother.”

“It’s hard.”

“You don’t have to try to explain it to me. I understand.”

I looked deep into her blue eyes. All the care and love was bright within. “What is it about you?”

She tilted her head and put on a sexy smirk. “What do you mean?”

“You’re so perfect for me. You actually make me feel whole. It’s like you are the drug that keeps me calm.”