Off Beat (Forgotten Flounders Series Book 1)

by J. C. Hannigan

  She shrugged, straightening and offering me a mischievous grin. “I just know.” I rolled my eyes, unable to fight the exasperated smile off. “All I’m saying is that it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere.”

  The door dinged, and our first customer of the day walked in.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he said warmly, tilting his weathered chin in acknowledgement. “Beautiful day out there.”

  “Morning, Ted! How’s Margaret doing?” I asked with a smile as warm as my favourite couple in town.

  Margaret Watson was a beloved regular customer of ours. She was eighty-five years old and had made it her mission to read every single romance we had in stock. They made regular donations to our reading programs, and Margaret had recently undergone hip surgery.

  “Very well, thank you. I’ve just dropped her off for physiotherapy. I thought I’d treat us both to hot chocolate and croissants.”

  “She’ll love that,” I smiled at how sweet it was; to see a couple still as in love after sixty-five years of marriage. Moving to one of the display tables, I picked up one of our staff recommendations and brought it over to Ted, holding it out to him. “This is for Margaret, tell her we’re thinking of her.”

  “Thank you,” he said, accepting it with a grateful smile.

  “It’s the least we can do for her. She must be going out of her mind with boredom.” Margaret Watson loved to keep busy; she had been active in the community all of her life, her husband, too. Ted Watson had owned the pharmacy for fifty-five years, although he had sold it a couple of years back so he could enjoy his retirement with his wife.

  “Oh, she certainly was. But she’s starting to feel better now, so she hosted her first knitting club this Monday. How’s little Asher doing?”

  “Not so little,” I replied. “He’ll be eight in nine days! We’re having a little party for him here on the nineteenth if you and Margaret feel up to coming. Ellery’s baking a cake.”

  “That’s right! They grow so quickly,” He said fondly, letting out a low chuckle as he passed a bill to Ellery for his hot chocolates and croissants. He tucked the book under his arm and picked up the tray. “I suppose I ought to get back for Margaret, let her know we’ve been invited to another party.” His eyes sparkled. “Have a good day, ladies.”

  “You too!” I grinned, watching him leave. “God, they’re the sweetest,” I remarked to Ellery, momentarily forgetting my troubles.

  “They really are,” she nodded with agreement.

  “All right, I need to get moving,” I sighed, forcing myself into action. “I have a billion things on my to-do list, and Shelly’s going to be late, she has a dental appointment.”

  Too bad, I was moving like a sloth.

  “Oh! Are you still going out for dinner with Shay Friday night?”

  “Crap. I completely forgot about that,” I sighed, worrying my lip.

  “I can watch Asher if your parents aren’t home yet.”

  “I should cancel,” I exhaled, my brows pinching together.

  “For Cal?” Ellery challenged, and I frowned.

  “No, it’s just bad timing.“

  “It’s Cal.” Ellery sighed, fighting a knowing smile.

  “Maybe,” I admitted unwillingly. “But it’s also Shelly, and Asher—it’s Shay, too. My head’s not in the right space right now.”

  “You’re such a good person. It’s almost sickening.” My friend rolled her eyes, which twinkled with affection and amusement. “I would have gone on a date to make Cal jealous, myself.”

  I chortled. “If it were anybody else, I might consider that now. But it’s Shay. That’s cruel.”

  “You’re right,” She nodded with agreement.

  “Maybe you could come over and help me make garlic bread instead?”

  “By help, you mean make right?” she laughed.

  “You know me so well,” I grinned, backing away and heading to the office to drop my purse and bag off before walking back out to open the cash register, coffee cup still in hand.

  More of our early morning regular customers began to trickle in, securing favourite spots in the café or the comfortable reading chairs scattered throughout the store. It was a slower morning for book sales, but the atmosphere throughout the store was still positive, the smell intoxicatingly soothing.

  During one of the lulls, I opened up Facebook on the computer to update our business page. I scrolled through the newsfeed, catching up on local news, and stilled when I read the headline of a local newspaper.

  The Forgotten Flounders show in Edmonton this Saturday is cancelled! Lead singer and guitarist Calum Jacobs unable to attend due to a family emergency. Fans can expect a full refund, along with the bands sincerest apologizes and a promise to make it up with an additional show on their next tour.

  At some point, while I read, I’d moved my hand to rest on my collarbone. I pressed my fist against my chest, trying to calm the roar of emotions thrashing throughout me. I hadn’t realized he had a show on Saturday, I’d been too stunned by seeing him again, and he hadn’t mentioned it when I invited him over for dinner.

  Instead of leaving, Calum had cancelled one of his shows. The gravity of that action wasn’t lost on me.

  “Ms. Morrison…are you okay?” I jumped at Shelly’s voice, startled by her sudden appearance behind the counter.

  “Yes,” I replied, quickly exiting the browser and fixing a smile on my face. “How did your appointment go?”

  “Awesome,” Shelly grinned widely, pointing to her mouth. “I got my braces off!”

  “That’s great!” The tension was still set deeply in my shoulders, but my smile grew more genuine.

  “I’m so glad I don’t have to do college orientation with braces,” she grinned, doing a little wiggle of excitement.

  “You would have slayed it with braces too,” I scolded gently.

  “That’s true…” she trailed off, shrugging out of her jacket. She stole a glance at me, her nose wrinkling a little. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “You know Calum Jacobs? For real?”

  “Yes.” My smile slipped a little, but Shelly didn’t seem to notice.

  “That’s so cool! I love The Forgotten Flounders! I even have a few posters in my room,” she laughed, her cheeks flushing with mild embarrassment. “How did you meet him?”

  “We went to high school together,” I answered, avoiding meeting Shelly’s interested eyes. I didn’t want to announce that he was Asher’s father just yet, although I was sure it would eventually get out. I just hope it didn’t leak before Calum and Asher had a chance to spend time together. Even the mere thought that it might made me feel sick with unease.

  “That’s awesome! Do you think I could get him to sign something or take a picture with me?” she pleaded, her eyes bright with excitement.

  “I’m sure he’d be happy to do that if you asked him,” I replied, working to keep my smile in place.

  “Okay! I think I will,” Shelly chirped, her grin spreading.

  “All right. I need to go order more bags and restock the new releases.” To lessen our carbon footprint, we ordered bulk cream tote bags in three different sizes in place of plastic ones. Our shop emblem was stamped on it, and customers loved that they could reuse the bags. Most of our regulars did reuse their bags, but I still had to put in the occasional order. “I’m leaving you in charge of the front. Shout if you need me.”

  It took every ounce of self-control to make it to the office without letting my smile slip.

  Calum

  July 10th, 2008

  Harper bit down on her bottom lip, almost shyly, and stole a glance at me through her thick lashes from the passenger seat of my Jeep Cherokee, watching as I parked against the curb in front of her house and killed the ignition.

  “Thanks for today, I had a lot of fun,” she said, shifting so that she was facing me. A few long tresses of hair had escaped from her braid. Her cheeks were flushed and growing pinker a
s my appreciative gaze lingered. I wanted to kiss her again and never stop.

  “I had a lot of fun, too.” Grinning, I moved closer to her and brought my hand up to cup her face. She leaned in with welcome, her eyes darkening. My attention dropped to her lips—pouty and slightly parted.

  I moved in, my lips brushing against hers cautiously. I’d never taken so much pleasure from kissing before; nor had the act alone turned me on so much. Even now, our lips had barely made contact and I was already straining against the zipper of my board shorts.

  So, I kept it gentle, refraining from pillaging her mouth like I wanted to. I kissed her softly, sliding my tongue against hers in slow strokes that she matched, igniting me.

  Reluctantly, I pulled back, flashing her a grin when her eyes fluttered open half a second later. I moved my hand to tuck a long, tangled strand of hair behind her ear. “Let me take you out for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah, okay,” she nodded, and I dropped my arm completely away from her. If she didn’t leave soon, I’d end up kissing her again—and I was pretty sure I’d end up embarrassing the hell out of myself if this heated exchange continued.

  “I’ll pick you up at six?”

  “Sounds good,” she smiled, unbuckling her seat belt and reaching for her tote bag as she opened the door. She climbed out, shutting the door, still grinning with amusement as she backed away from the Jeep. Pivoting, she walked up to her front porch, pausing to look at me over her shoulder once before she disappeared inside.

  A gentle tapping sound roused me. Cracking my lids open, I shut them just as quickly, waiting until the disorienting fog of grogginess lifted before I opened them fully. Silence greeted me—no tapping or knocking. In fact, I wasn’t even all that certain I’d heard it in the first place.

  Last night, I’d stayed at the beach until almost three o’clock in the morning, when I was sure both of my parents would be sleeping. I’d spent those hours debating on whether I should come out and tell them about Asher immediately or wait until after the funeral.

  I didn’t want his first time meeting my family to be under such sad circumstances. Mom had a lot on her plate with Gramps’ death and the funeral arrangements, and I was hesitant to drop one more thing on her. She wouldn’t be mad—anger wasn’t an emotion she basked in, but she might be disappointed and heartbroken to have missed the first eight years of her first-and-only grandchild’s life.

  Fuck. I knew the feeling. It had haunted me all night. Harper was the only girl I’d ever wanted a future with—the only one I’d ever entertained the brief thought about starting a family with, and she had raised my child without me, because of me. Because of who I’d been. Because I had thrown away what we had, I’d thrown away her for music and fame.

  I could handle my father’s anger—it was pretty much inevitable. I pissed the man off by just breathing the same air as him. I fully anticipated that he’d take this opportunity to go on a tirade about how much suffering I’d caused my mother and him and what a colossal fuck up I was.

  The knocking resumed, more persistent and very real this time, and interrupting my ruminating. “Yeah?” I crocked, voice raw from lack of use and sleep.

  “Are you decent?” came Connor’s muffled reply.

  “Yeah. Come in,” I called out, staying beneath my blankets. The door opened, and she slipped inside, leaving it open. She crossed over to my window, yanking open the blinds, allowing more light to spill into the dark cave of my bedroom. My eyes snapped shut, my brow furrowing with resentment at the blinding wakeup. “Was that necessary?” I asked dryly, blinking until my pupils adjusted.

  “Yup.” She flopped down on the edge of my mattress, facing me, arching her brows at me. “Dad thinks you were out drinking last night.”

  “I wasn’t.” I scowled.

  “I know,” she said, mimicking my tone. She sighed, moving so that she was sitting beside me with her back against the headboard, pensively contemplating me. “How are you?”

  I sighed, sitting up and wiping the grit from my eyes. It’d been a miracle that I’d managed to fall asleep at all. My thoughts had spun so twistingly out of control that I’d fallen straight into a dream of a memory, awakening with a ceaseless ache in my chest.

  “Processing.” I finally gritted.

  “Well?” Connor asked a moment later, when I didn’t elaborate. “When are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”

  I turned my head to address her, a heavy sigh falling from my lips before I could explain. “I’m going to wait until after the funeral. It’s tomorrow, and I don’t want to stress Mom out anymore.”

  “Why do you think it’d stress her out?” she inquired, her auburn brows raising with surprise.

  “She’ll be disappointed, probably. And even if she isn’t, Dad’s reaction will stress her out,” I answered, disheartened. She nodded, agreeing with me. “I should probably have a contingency in place for when the shit hits the fan.”

  Connor shot me a sympathetic look. “Such as?”

  I rolled it over in my mind for a minute, considering her question. It was something I’d been pondering myself. “I don’t know yet. I need to talk to Harper.”

  She nodded again. “That’s a sound start. Mom and Dad will be home from the store soon, so you should probably get up, anyway. It’s only going to fuel his idea you’ve been drinking.”

  “Yeah,” I bobbed my head, agreeing with her. Not that I cared what he thought.

  “Okay, I’ll leave you to it,” she stood, retreating down the hall.

  I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and hit the home button. A few new text messages from the boys, and about seven thousand Twitter and Instagram notifications. The label had probably broken the show cancelation news to fans.

  I felt bad, of course—finally tripping up with music was just another add-on to the fail pile—but that guilt was nothing compared to the lives I’d missed out on. I couldn’t leave now, not before I’d had a chance to know my son.

  Setting my phone back down on the nightstand, I threw off the covers and padded over to my duffle bag to pull out clean clothes.

  Tucking my clothes under my arm, I headed for the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind me and locking it.

  I turned the tap on and stripped out of my clothes, stepping under the water before it was even lukewarm. The cold pellets of water helped chase away the lingering exhaustion. I rolled my neck as the slowly warming water hit my tense muscles. My thoughts focused on the universal what now question as I washed.

  It was glaringly obvious that I couldn’t remain here, under the same roof as my father. I had enough to deal with without having to tip-toe around him and his moods, and I’d never had it in me to do that, anyway. I was too combustible.

  We were on course for a horrific collision, one where his judgment and lectures would undoubtedly lead to an argument and provide an excellent outlet for my deep-set frustration.

  I couldn’t have that; not anymore, and especially not right now.

  But I could just save myself the hassle and buy a house. I could easily afford one, and I needed the space and privacy. If I wanted to get to know my son, I would need to find a more permanent living solution. The more I thought about it, the more I was sold on the idea.

  Did I want to leave the band? The question came from seemingly nowhere, and the answer wasn’t complicated. Fuck no. I needed a break—that was true. I needed time to adjust to the sudden shift of my reality, but I didn’t feel finished with that chapter yet; I just felt like altering it a little.

  Okay, a lot.

  We’d acquired enough success that it now didn’t matter where our central hub was. I wanted mine to be back home.

  But before I did anything, I definitely needed to talk to the boys—and to Harper again, to see where her head was even at with all of this. With me.

  I knew I’d fucked up majorly by walking away once before, but the second I saw her again, I felt the shift. And the moment I heard our son’s voice, that shift
became roots.

  Turning the tap off, I reached for the towel, drying my hair before running it over the rest of my body before dressing. Grabbing my phone, I headed back to my room.

  It was eerily silent in the house; no voices were drifting from any of the rooms throughout it. My parents were still out. I grabbed my jacket from the desk chair I’d tossed it on.

  Shoving my arms into my jacket as I barreled down the stairs, I came to a halt when I saw Connor sitting on the couch in the living room. Her legs were curled up beneath her. She looked up from the notepad she had balanced on the arm of the couch.

  “I’ll be back in a bit. Are you okay alone?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just working on a paper that’s due when I get back.” She replied, smiling softly at me.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes,” she insisted, arching her brows. “Good luck with Harper,” she added, sparing me another encouraging smile before her eyes dropped back down to the notepad.

  Harper

  The rest of the morning passed by slowly and quietly. Enough customers trickled in to keep us comfortably busy, but there were lulls that I could let my thoughts drift as I stocked shelves, pondering the cancelled show. Hope was blooming where it shouldn’t, and that scared me.

  At a quarter to noon, the door dinged, drawing my attention away from my task and my thoughts. I turned, expecting another customer, my heart slamming into my ribs when Calum’s resolute gaze landed on me. He stalked toward me while I stayed rooted at the end of the young adult fiction aisle.

  Today, he was dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans that clung to his muscular legs. A pale gray Henley peeked out beneath his black leather jacket. His hair was hidden beneath a dark toque, and the dark bags beneath his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept well, either.

  He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, slowing when he neared me. “Hey,” he said lowly—his voice rough like he hadn’t used it much today. The abrasive roughness of it made my spine tingle.