Off Beat (Forgotten Flounders Series Book 1)

by J. C. Hannigan

  “He’s already talking about it,” she pointed out, arching a brow. “Besides…life’s too short to put off the things that make you happy. Calum makes you happy—and even though he’s hurt you in the past, you still look at him like he’s the only man you see. And the kicker is…he looks at you the exact same way. You two are walking proof of fate being stronger than mistakes.”

  “You’re being a little silly about this.” I laughed awkwardly. Her idolization of my relationship made me both uneasy, and yet…at the same time, her visual of us made me a little happy—a little more secure in my decisions.

  I’d always felt wholly loved by him with his glances, and his touches, and his smiles. I could never explain it, especially not to the likes of my mother, who I thought would understand. After all, she had followed my father all over Canada when he was in the air force. She sacrificed a lot for their love, and the deployments when they were separated were agony for her. She did her best to mask it, but I saw it.

  “I don’t think I am,” Ellery shook her head, and a sense of sadness seeped into her irises, her shoulders drooping a little. “Grant doesn’t look at me like that, the way that Calum looks at you. For the last little while, he’s barely looked at me at all. He’s always staring at his phone or talking to someone else—a teammate, a sports reporter. He half-listens to everything I say and seems to forget it five seconds later.”

  “Really? How long has this been going on for?”

  “Ever since he got that offer to play in Montreal. I think he’s going to take it…and that’ll be the end of us.”

  “I’m sorry. What are you going to do?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” She admitted, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m not leaving. This is home for me. And right now, I’m not sure he’s even worth leaving it for.”

  I placed my hand on her arm. “I feel like the worst friend, I’ve been so wrapped up in Calum and everything, that I didn’t even notice you were going through this. I’m sorry, Ellery.”

  “It’s okay. Technically I’m not going through anything yet. I’m just realizing that maybe my relationship isn’t as great as I thought it was. It lacks something I didn’t even realize I needed.” She let out a heavy sigh. “It just sucks, we’ve been together for years. We should be moving forward, not backward. I hate that I’ve wasted all this time.”

  “Even if it ends, it’s not a waste of time to have loved someone.” My words, warm and soothing, brought moisture to Ellery’s eyes, but she didn’t cry. She just smiled.

  “You’re only saying that now because, well. All is right. But I’m nearly thirty. I wanted to get married and have kids of my own. Grant’s not there, and I don’t think he’ll ever be there.”

  “Sounds like you already know what to do.” I arched a brow.

  “Yeah, well. Anyway, let’s get these boxes in your car.” She said, swiftly changing the subject and leaving the office.

  Calum

  The clock in the waiting room ticked by with each painful second. The occasional rustle of a page turning or a throat clearing would break up the silence.

  I sat in a chair beside Connor, my fingers tapping against the arm of the chair to the rhythm of the first song Gramps ever taught me to play on the guitar: Blackbird by Paul McCartney.

  “Could you stop doing that?” My father ground out, leaning around both my mom and sister to scowl at me.

  “Michael, leave him be. He’s fine.” My mom frowned.

  “He fidgets more than a two-year-old.”

  Mom let out a sigh, closing her eyes as if praying for patience, but otherwise didn’t respond. When she opened them, she leveled my father with a look that had him leaning back in his chair and putting his nose back in his own business.

  I continued tapping my fingers, and this time Connor joined in—her manicured nails tapping out the same beat as she hummed along. Our father’s jaw clenched, but he kept silent.

  The receptionist’s phone rang, silencing us as she picked it up. She listened for a moment before hanging up. She stood, walking around the length of her desk, heels clicking against the hardwood.

  “Mr. Willowby will see you now,” she said. She led the way to a conference room, directing us to the far side of it. Four sealed bottles of water were placed in front of the four chairs.

  We sat, and a moment later, Mr. Willowby walked briskly into the room carrying a leather folder. He sat down across from us and adjusted his silver wired glasses before peering at us with a solemn smile.

  “Good morning. Thank you all for coming together so quickly. Mr. Murphy discussed in great detail what he wanted for his estate. Now, typically how these things go is that I’ll read the will out loud, and at the end of it you will have the opportunity to ask questions.”

  We nodded solemnly, and Mr. Willowby cleared his throat, his eyes going to my mother. “Maeve. You’re aware that your father appointed you as his Executor?”

  “I am.” Mom said, as my father’s hand found its way to her knee to quietly comfort her.

  “He ensured his funeral expenses were covered and arranged before his death, so you will not have to do that. However, there are some tasks he’s left you with.” Mom nodded, and I let out a breath—the ache of missing him growing acutely more painful the more we talked about it.

  Between finding out about Asher, and everything happening between Harper and me, I hadn’t really given myself time to process the fact that he was gone. Gramps was more of a father to me than my own dad. He’d been the first to show me that men can be tender and soft.

  But he was gone now, and the man who was my actual father couldn’t stand to look at me anymore than I could stand to look at him. He’d failed me throughout my entire childhood, well into my teen years, and even now.

  And yet…he was there for my mother, a strong pillar of support for her to lean on, and my sister, too. Just not me.

  I gripped the arms of the chair tightly, trying to regulate my anger and pain. It was a bad time to process this shit right now, sitting in the middle of a conference room with my father two seats over.

  Closing my eyes brought Harper and Asher’s faces to mind, and felt the tension slowly slipping from my extremities.

  Mr. Willowby began reading the will, and my eyes opened, focusing on the elderly lawyer.

  “This is the Last Will and Testament of me, Frank David Murphy, of Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. I hereby cancel any previous wills I have made of every kind and nature.

  “I appoint Maeve Siobhan Jacobs, to look after my estate and I hereinafter refer to her as “my Executor”. The executor is to pay all taxes and any remaining debt post-mortem from my estate. My house at 56 Victoria, Lunenburg Ontario is to be left to my granddaughter, Connor Mae Jacobs, along with the Bechstein piano. My music books, my album collection, and my instruments—exempting the Bechstein and Steinway pianos—are to be left to my grandson, Calum Michael Jacobs. My remaining estate is to be divided and left to my daughter, Maeve Jacobs, my granddaughter, Connor Mae Jacobs, and my great-grandson, Asher Morrison, to be held in trust of Calum Michael Jacobs until he is of age. I also leave the Steinway piano to Asher Morrison.”

  My mother and Connor both gasped, and my father’s brows drew together in confusion. I swallowed against the lump of emotion clogging my throat, but it didn’t dislodge it.

  “How—“ I started, but was swiftly interrupted.

  “Were you just pretending you didn’t know you had a kid?” Dad demanded, glaring at me.

  “Michael!” My mother snapped, sending an embarrassed, apologetic look to Mr. Willowby. He seemed unperturbed by the outburst; he merely shifted in his seat and cleared his throat again.

  “Now, it can take some time for the taxes to be paid and everything squared with the estate, but the deed to the house is right here. In your case, Connor, all you have to do is sign it, and the house is legally yours.” He set the will down and picked up the deed, sliding it across the table in front of my sister.


  “As for you,” Mr. Willowby said, turning his attention to me. “I have a bunch of documents for you to sign for your son’s inheritance.”

  Nodding, I absently raked my fingers through my hair. All of Gramps’ calls and insistence that I come home suddenly took on a whole new meaning. He wasn’t just doing it because he’d known how I truly felt about Harper.

  I ignored Gramps’ sage advice to just come back for years, and it had cost me almost a decade of experiences with my son. All the money in the world couldn’t buy that time back.

  Two hours went by, and by the time I was through signing everything I needed to sign and finally leaving the lawyer’s office, my father had already left for work.

  “Did Gramps ever mention knowing about Asher?” Mom asked the moment the doors closed behind us and stepped out onto the stone pathway that would take us to the parking lot.

  “Not directly. He’s always told me to come home and make amends with Harper, but he never said a thing about Asher.”

  “Does Harper know?”

  “I doubt it, Mom. She would have said something if she did. She didn’t intentionally hide, she just…”

  “Didn’t seek.” She nodded sadly, falling silent with her thoughts. When we’d nearly reached my Jeep, she spoke again. “Maybe he found out some other way and didn’t tell anyone because he didn’t think it was his place?”

  A heavy sigh escaped my lips. “I really couldn’t say. Gramps was always a little cryptic. Are you guys hungry?”

  My question pulled Connor from her thoughts. “Actually, I have to run an errand. Mind if I borrow the car, Mom?”

  “Sure. Is everything okay?” Mom frowned, taking in the slight flush in Connor’s cheeks.

  “Yes, I’m just overwhelmed about the whole house thing,” she replied, giving her a quick hug and a kiss.

  “Don’t feel pressured to keep it if you don’t want it. You can sell it, or you could rent it out while you finish up school in Halifax. It was kind of him to leave you that in this economy, it’s hard for first time home buyers. Unless you’re a rock star,” she added that last part teasingly, sending me a wink.

  “Yeah.” Connor nodded distractedly, her brow furrowing. “I’ll come pick you up later, okay?” We watched her walk away, her feet carrying her quickly across the street to Mom’s car, red hair billowing in the wind beneath her toque. Mom frowned with concern, and even though I’d also picked up on something, I could sense Connor wouldn’t want us to follow her.

  My little sister had been carefully guarded and protected her entire life, mostly by our father, who couldn’t stand the thought of anything bad happening to his princess, but also because of me. I had a reputation that had dribbled down to even her peers. Mess with her, and you’d get my wrath—threefold.

  Connor liked to figure things out for herself, and she detested being told what to do. She didn’t need to be told what to do…she always did the right thing, anyway.

  Right now, she was hurting. She’d been just as close to Gramps, and she was probably struck with the conflicting emotions of inheriting the house he and Nan had lived in since the fifties.

  “We should give her a little space,” I said, gently touching Mom’s elbow. “Do you still want to get lunch?”

  “Sure, let’s get lobster. Gramps would want it.”

  “He sure would,” I chuckled, turning to the passenger door and opening it for her. Once she’d climbed in, I shut her door and walked around, my thoughts ricocheting back to the fact that Gramps had known. He’d left Asher fifty-grand and the Steinway piano.

  Before I opened the door, I pulled my phone out of my jacket and texted Harper. What’s your stance on joining my mom and me for lunch? Asher, too, if you’re still picking him up?

  It felt like my heart was in my throat with each millisecond that slipped by without a reply. I’d all but given up, about to slide the device back in my jacket, when it pinged with an incoming message.

  Sure, I’m just waiting for him at the office now. Where are we meeting?

  Opening my door, I slid into the Jeep, still holding my phone with one hand. “Instead of our usual haunt…how do you feel about hitting a different fish and chips place? One in Mahone Bay?”

  Mom grinned with elation. “That sounds great.”

  “There will be a couple more people joining us, if that’s all right.” I winked, typing out a quick text to let Harper know where to meet us.

  “Really?”

  “Yes really. I’d like you to meet him first if you don’t mind…since you would have had that honor if…” I trailed off, but before I could beat myself up about it, Mom’s hand was covering mine, and she gave me an encouraging squeeze.

  “I’m honored. I can’t wait to meet my grandson.”

  With a twist of my wrist, the Jeep’s engine fired up. I checked my mirrors and pulled out of the space, driving toward Mahone Bay.

  “Oh! I’ve been here a few times with Gramps before.” Mom exclaimed when I pulled into the parking lot of The Codfather. “It’s so strange to think, that all these years…they’ve been so close to us. I could have passed them a hundred times.”

  I glanced over at her, pocketing my keys. She looked a little nervous, and a whole lot excited, as she reached to release her seat belt.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “Yes. No.” My mother laughed, her eyes misting as she pressed her palms to her cheeks. “I can’t figure out what to go by. Nana? Granny? Nan…I know it’s silly, and I haven’t even met him yet. But what if he asks straight away, and I don’t have an answer?”

  “Nana,” I said after a moment’s reflection. “Now let’s go, Nana. They’re inside waiting.”

  She smiled then, her nervousness slipping away as she took a steadying breath before opening her door and stepping out. I followed suit, locking the Jeep with the key fob as we walked towards the restaurant’s entrance.

  I opened the door and held it for her to slip through ahead of me, and when we reached the hostess stand, a woman in her early forties greeted us with a smile.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Pricilla, and I’ll take you to your table.” She said with a welcoming, friendly smile. “Right this way.” She headed toward the back of the restaurant, where Harper and Asher were waiting at a table that overlooked the bay.

  My mother stopped walking when her eyes landed on Asher. Her hand came up to cover her mouth. They hadn’t noticed our arrival yet, and we weren’t near enough to draw their attention. “He looks just like you.” She gasped, looking at me with astonishment.

  “Those Jacobs genes.” I joked, and all she could do is nod in agreement. Placing my palm on her back, we continued forward.

  Harper looked up, her brown eyes finding me first. Her rosy lips parted, the corners curling into a soft smile. She stood from her chair when we neared, and Asher watched her before copying.

  I wanted to take her in my arms, kiss her in greeting and let the whole goddamn world see that she was mine, and I was hers. Instead, I forced myself to keep a respectable distance, knowing she was nervous enough about seeing my mother for the first time since…well, a lot of things.

  But my mother—the sweet, loving woman that she was—practically shoved me aside to embrace Harper in one of her signature hugs. Her embrace made Harper visibly relax, her arms raising to wrap around my mom, returning her hug.

  “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Jacobs.”

  “I told you years ago, it’s Maeve to you.” My mother scolded her with a smile, finally releasing her to look at her. “Gosh, you look radiant. Doesn’t she, Calum?”

  “She does,” I confirmed, eyes flickering to Harper’s while the corner of my lips twitched up in a smile. I stepped forward, my hand landing on the small of her back, and pressed a kiss her to her temple.

  That was all I allowed myself; that chaste kiss on her forehead—before my arm dropped and I walked around her, to our son. Lifting my chin, I held out my arms for him to step into—if he wanted.
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  He grinned, throwing his arms around me in a tight hug before peering around me. I moved to stand beside him, looking over to my mom. Her emerald eyes landed on Asher, who smiled shyly.

  “Asher, this is my mom. Your nana.” I introduced him with a proud smile, my gaze bouncing from my mom to Asher.

  “Hello there, Asher. It’s nice to meet you.” She said, her voice full of warmth, her eyes bright and shining with emotion.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.” He replied, politely reaching out to shake her hand. She smiled, clearly impressed with his manners.

  “So, who’s hungry?” I proclaimed, realizing that we had acquired the interested gaze of the nearby patrons, all of whom looked away once I’d made eye contact.

  “I could eat,” Asher shrugged, sitting down in the chair he’d vacated earlier.

  Harper sat back down beside him, and my mom sat in the chair to her right, across from Asher. I tugged out the remaining chair, dropping down into it and sending a wink to my right.

  “How was the spelling test?” I asked, and he brightened.

  “I aced it. Even the extra credit ones.”

  I chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Atta boy. Smart like your mom.” Leaning back in my chair, I caught Harper’s gaze and smiled at the warmth reflecting in her irises.

  The same server we had the last time we were here, Adella, approached with her notepad and pen already in hand. “Can I get you started with drinks and appetizers?”

  Scanning the table, I noted that Asher and Harper already had drinks. “Iced tea, Mom?” I questioned, and she nodded. “I’ll have a coke, please. Do you guys know what you want?” I directed my question to Harper and Asher, eyes flickering between the two of them.

  “I’ll have the grilled cheese,” Asher replied politely, sliding his menu to the edge of the table for Adella to collect. “Please,” he added, catching his mother’s raised eyebrow.

  “Sure thing, little man.”

  He grinned. “Thanks!”

  “And for you?” Adella smiled at Harper.