Off Beat (Forgotten Flounders Series Book 1)

by J. C. Hannigan

  Pulling the cord, I blocked the morning light from further disrupting her sleep and dug into my duffle bag for new clothes. I dressed quickly and quietly, leaving the room and tugging the door shut soundlessly behind me.

  Before going downstairs, I glanced down the hall into Asher’s bedroom, finding him still asleep in his bed.

  I could let him sleep for another twenty minutes before he had to be up, and it’d give me time to take out the garbage and recycling and make breakfast. The domestic tasks made me feel both a little weird and more normal than I’d felt in ages.

  It’d been years since I worried about things like taking the garbage out or even cleaning up after myself.

  Before the fame, I’d done those things all the time. With both of my parents working full-time jobs, I cooked a lot for Connor and me and had a neverending to-do list of chores I was expected to do before any social activities. Failure to do those chores resulted in dealing with my father, which was enough of an unpleasant negative consequence to keep me from slacking.

  Pausing long enough to collect the bag from the bin in the kitchen and slip into my shoes, I found the garbage can and recycling bins in the shed. Lifting the lid of the bin, I tossed the bag in and secured the lid. I lifted the large blue bin that was half-full of recyclables, carrying it with one hand. The garbage can had wheels, so I wheeled it over the gravel to the end of the driveway.

  Springtime in Nova Scotia wasn’t as warm as springtime in Toronto, and the biting wind cut through my long-sleeved waffle shirt to remind me of that. The icy sting was an effective way of zapping the lingering drowsiness from me, and I realized there wasn’t a single fucking thing I missed about Toronto.

  I didn’t miss the penthouse, the parties, the studio, or the routine. I felt alert for the first time in years, like waking from a coma. Everything was brighter, more pronounced.

  By the time I’d walked halfway down Harper’s driveway, Jack had approached, his hands in his jacket pockets. Although he wasn’t smiling, he seemed relaxed, seemingly unbothered by my being there at his daughter’s house.

  I lifted my chin in greeting. “Morning, Jack.”

  “Calum. You’re up early.” I set the blue bin down beside the can and straightened, hearing the words he hadn’t said—that he knew my Jeep hadn’t left the driveway all night.

  Where his daughter was an open book, Jack Morrison was difficult to read. Impossible, nearly—his brown eyes and expression neutral but shrewd. I couldn’t tell if it bothered him that I hadn’t left.

  “Yeah,” I replied, shoving my cold hands in my jean pockets. I’d always been an early riser. For the past nine years, I’d slept like shit. I battled insomnia and could only find sleep after drinking myself into it or tossing back a couple of sleeping pills. Even then, it was fitful, and I’d awaken all too soon. I was only just admitting it to myself—admitting that it wasn’t just the lifestyle, but a misguided attempt at self-medicating. It was running from and trying to drown out my problems.

  Coming home to her had shifted something in me, and I hadn’t needed those sleeping pills or that unopened bottle of Old Crow in the middle of my duffle bag.

  The silence had stretched long enough to be awkward, Jack was still watching me expectantly, waiting for me to say something. Clearing my throat, I forced another sentence out. “I figured I’d let Harper sleep in.”

  Jack nodded, glancing up at the house with his hands in his coat pocket. “Caroline told me what you did for Harper yesterday.” My brow furrowed and I shifted my weight on my feet with discomfort. “She saw you pull up when she got back from driving Asher to school.” He explained, sending me a bemused yet apologetic look. When he caught my expression, his amusement ebbed as he continued. “It’s not that we’re spying, but for nine years, we’ve looked out for them. It’s going to be hard for us to step back, and it won’t happen overnight.”

  It was my turn to nod. It was all I could do for a moment. My words trapped behind my teeth. Clearing my throat, I finally freed them. “I can understand that.” I hadn’t known of Asher’s existence for very long, but I already knew with every atom of my being that there wasn’t a thing on earth I wouldn’t do for him. I knew Jack felt the same about his daughter.

  “If you don’t have anything going on, you’re welcome to join us for dinner next Sunday. Harper and Asher usually come over, and we’d like to keep doing that. Caroline and I value the time we spend with them. Family is important to us.” He said, his gaze unwavering and austere.

  “We’ll be there.” I accepted. Satisfied, he nodded, a hint of a smile softening his lips.

  “See you all then.” He said, clapping his hand on my shoulder before turning and walking back down the street.

  I watched him go for a moment before turning and walking back in through the mudroom. Asher was awake and standing in front of the refrigerator, looking inside. He’d dressed for the day, but his hair was an unruly mess. He’d combed it and done his best to tame it, but his hair was a lot like mine, thick and unpredictable.

  He looked over his shoulder when he heard the door close behind me. “Hungry?” I asked, and he nodded. “What do you feel like?”

  “Pancakes?” he replied hopefully. Nodding, I set to it, grabbing the ingredients and frying pan. It hadn’t taken me long at all to familiarize myself with where Harper kept things. Ten minutes later, Asher had a steaming tower of pancakes drenched in maple syrup in front of him, and I had almost a full cup of coffee in my system.

  “Are we letting Mom sleep in again?” Asher asked, his voice muffled from the bite of pancakes he’d recently shoved inside.

  “Why not?” I lifted my shoulder, my lips tugging up in a sideways smile. “I figured I could drive you to school.”

  “Oh.” He seemed disappointed by the offer, and that stung a little, but I tried not to take it personally, reminding myself that the kid hardly knew me—even if he had started calling me dad.

  “If you’d rather wake her up, we could do that,” I added.

  “It’s just…” Asher shook his head, his frown intensifying. “I told Nik I’d be on the bus. He’ll be expecting me. He doesn’t really like going on the bus alone.”

  “Why not?”

  “There are some kids that pick on him when I’m not around,” Asher replied, his brows drawing together.

  “We could pick him up on the way if you want.”

  “Ok! I’ll call him and tell him.” As he jumped up from the stool, rushing over to the phone hanging on the wall by the living room entry, a sense of pride hit me. This kid—he was something special, and I’d had half a hand in making him. Harper had done the rest, and I would spend the rest of our lives thanking her for it. Asher dialed a number, waited a moment, and then frowned, hanging the receiver up.

  “Everything okay?” I asked as he made his way back to the table. I didn’t like the concern in his eyes.

  “Yeah. He didn’t answer. He might already be at the diner.”

  “I could drive you,” I offered, knowing that’s close to where the bus stop was. His eyes brightened, and he nodded. “Finish your pancakes, get your things, and we’ll head over.”

  Asher finished at breakneck speed, shoveling pancakes in his mouth faster than I could drink my coffee. He rushed his plate to the sink and paused to open the refrigerator, grabbing a bright blue lunch bag from the middle shelf and a water bottle. He shoved everything into his backpack before rushing to the mudroom to put on his boots and coat. He grabbed his hat and tugged it on before shoving a pair of mitts in his pocket.

  I grabbed my phone, keys, and wallet, slipped my boots on and followed him out through the side door to my Jeep. While I walked, I texted Harper to let her know I’d be back after taking Asher.

  He already had his seat belt on by the time I’d reached my door. Checking my blind spots before backing up, I watched Asher for a moment. His brow was still tightly drawn with worry, and he seemed a thousand miles away.

  Double checking that t
he way was still clear, I backed out of the driveway and onto the road. “Are you okay?” Something was bothering him.

  “I guess.” Asher was quiet for another moment, thinking. “Do you have a lot of money?”

  “I suppose so,” I answered honestly. I’d worked hard over the years and spent way less than what I’d put away. My account grew every day from royalties and record sales. “I’m not the richest person out there, but my Gramps taught me how to invest my money, and my parents taught me how to save it.”

  Celebrities tended to get a lot of crap for free, too. Endorsements and all that. Prior to buying the house—and the Jeep—I hadn’t gone big on expensive things. I chipped in on Connor’s university fees, paying for her books and parking passes and any equipment she needed. My parents could barely cover the tuition expenses, and none of us wanted her adult life to start out in debt when she didn’t have to.

  He nodded, absorbing my answer. “I wish I had a lot of money. If I did, I’d help out people who need it.” I could tell, even without him saying it, that he was thinking about a specific person who needed it. I had an inkling on who.

  “That’s a noble thing to do.” I agreed, my eyes cutting to his again in the rear view mirror. “Does…someone you know need help?”

  He nodded, somewhat sadly, but it was clear he still warred with whether or not to tell me. I kept quiet, giving him a moment to work it out. “It’s Nik and his mom. He told me not to tell my mom, but he didn’t say anything about my dad.”

  My throat felt tight as I pulled into a free spot between the bookstore and the diner, one with a clear view of the bus stop. Killing the ignition, I turned to look at him. “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t really know,” Asher confessed. He frowned; his brow marred with concern. “Nik says the landlord keeps coming by, and that he’s always angry. Last week, the water and power went out. He didn’t want me saying anything to Mom, because he said his mom is really embarrassed about it. It’s only the two of them, like it was only Mom and me for so long. But Nik’s dad is dead, he’s not gonna come back, and Nik doesn’t have any grandparents either.”

  I nodded, thinking of Nik, and how his hair had been a little greasy the day I’d met him, and his mom—the server. Something about her had seemed strikingly familiar. Only I couldn’t put my finger on why. Both of them had a sad, defeated look in their eyes that they worked to conceal. I recognized it, because I used to live it.

  “That’s tough.” I croaked, clearing my throat. I couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Nik’s mom, raising him alone on a server’s wages, with his father gone for good, gone forever, and no other family to speak of.

  Just then, Nik stepped out of the diner and zipped up his jacket, walking along the sidewalk until he reached the intersection. He didn’t look up at the Jeep until he’d crossed in front of it. Spotting Asher, he smiled a little—the anxiety in his eyes easing a bit.

  “I’ll see what I can do for them.”

  “Thanks, Dad!” The relief in his voice was evident, and the warm feeling in my chest hearing him say those two words spread straight to my soul when he leaned between the front seats and wrapped his arms around me for a hug.

  As I hugged him back, yellow flashed in my peripheral. The bus turned onto Pleasant, and I let him go. He grabbed his bag from the floor of the Jeep and swung it on. “Have a good day,” I told him as he opened the door to climb out onto the sidewalk.

  “Bye, Dad!” He shouted before jogging down the street to join Nik at the bus stop, just as it pulled up, lights flashing and stop sign out. Asher climbed on first, Nik following behind him.

  Even after the bus pulled away, heading on to its next pick up, I remained in the Jeep, thinking.

  After several minutes of deliberating, I opened the door and stepped out onto the road. Closing it and locking the key fob, I headed down the street to the diner. I pushed open the door, and delicious greasy breakfast scents wafted out onto the street. Most of the tables were occupied, so I approached the counter.

  Nik’s mom, Raina, had her back to me. She was facing the kitchen window, smarting at the cook. “Well, put on more homefries, Toby. It’s kind of a staple here.”

  Her long dark hair was up in a ponytail, and it swung as she grabbed a few plates. Shaking her head, she turned, suddenly stopping when she saw me standing in front of the counter.

  Her impassive expression changed to a scowl. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” She gritted, moving around the counter and heading out to the dining area, the plates balanced expertly in her hands.

  She didn’t look at me at all until she was back behind the counter, and she waited long enough to put on more coffee before finally begrudgingly giving me her attention. “What can I get you?” She clipped, notepad in hand.

  “Two eggs benedict breakfasts to go, please. One of them with sausage and bacon, one of them with sausage. Homefries, too.” I added, grinning at the end. Raina wrote out the order, her dark brows drawn together and blue eyes icy.

  “Toby! Order up. Make it snappy. We have a celebrity in our midst.” She shouted dryly as she turned, ripping the paper off the pad and clipping it to the order wheel above the kitchen window. A tanned hand reached through the window and tugged the paper off as Raina moved over to the back counter, where two large industrial coffee pots sat. One was half brewed, the other full. “Do you want anything else?”

  “Sure. Coffee, please. Two cups. One black with two sugars, one—“

  “Double double with Irish cream,” Raina finished, turning her back to me. She grabbed two paper cups, scooped out the sugar into both cups, then picked up the coffee pot. Pouring it with a steady hand, she filled one and put the lid on before moving to the refrigerator. She opened it and pulled out the Irish cream, casting a dark scowl over her shoulder.

  “I guess you know Harper pretty well,” I chuckled, sensing her resentment and disdain. She pursed her lips, arching a brow.

  “I don’t, actually. I just know how she takes her coffee when she’s desperate enough to have it here.” Her shrewd eyes held mine with a directness that felt strangely familiar. It was odd, almost like I saw a lot of myself in someone else, or someone I knew? Either way, her biting tone reminded me of exactly who I’d been just three weeks ago.

  Raina put the creamer back and snatched the coffees of the counter. She walked over and placed them on the counter separating us. “Pro tip—the Irish cream doesn’t hide how shitty it is.”

  “I heard that, Raina!” A snappy voice said from somewhere in the back.

  “Good. Stop cheating on the coffee!”

  “Hear hear!” Shouted someone sitting in the dining area, causing a bunch of people to laugh out loud.

  “It can’t be that bad,” I hedged, taking a sip of mine and immediately wincing. “Wow. I’ve had some shitty coffee, but that’s possibly the worst.” Bitter and somehow bland, it really was unpleasant.

  This earned a smile and almost a laugh from Raina. “Told you. Sludge has more flavor.”

  I set the flimsy paper cup down, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “That it does.”

  A bell dinged, and she turned back to the kitchen to grab the two Styrofoam containers. I pulled my wallet out, opening it and looking at the wad of bills in it. I pulled out a few hundreds and I placed them on the counter beside the register while Raina put the containers into a large paper bag.

  She handed it to me, and I grinned. “Thanks. See you around.” I turned heel, leaving the diner before she had time to ring through my order or count out my change.

  I always tipped generously, but I’d been even more generous today and left as much as I dared. I didn’t have to know her to know she was proud—I knew the type. My father’s face came to mind, and I let out an aggravated sigh, forcing him from my mind.

  After all, there was a beautiful woman waiting in a bed for me.

  I pulled the key fob out of my jacket pocket, I unlocked the Jeep and opened the door, sliding in
and settling on the cold leather seat, putting the paper bag on the floor of the passenger seat.

  I shoved the key in the ignition and waited for a break in traffic before pulling out and turning around, heading back to Harper’s a few clicks to fast. I was eager to slice any second I could off the time I spent away from her. Knowing she was under sheets, waiting for me made me itch to get back there with her. I drove just above the speed limit, slowing completely in community safety areas but rushing where I could.

  My tires ripped up the gravel as I sped into her driveway a little too eagerly. I pocketed my keys and grabbed the paper bag of food before stepping out and closing the door. Jogging up the backporch steps, I threw open the mudroom door and kicked off my boots.

  Moving the bag from hand to hand, I slid out of my jacket, leaving it on a hook as I passed. I slowed long enough to grab two forks and knives from the kitchen and continued upstairs.

  Light spilled into the bedroom as I opened the door. Harper shifted beneath the sheets, a soft, pleasured moan escaping her lips. “Is that breakfast I smell?”

  “Eggs benny, baby,” I said enticingly, shaking the bag twice as I moved to the window to open the blinds. Harper stretched beneath the sheet, her breasts pushing against the fabric. The early morning sunbathed her in an ethereal light.

  I slid into bed beside her, on top of the covers, bringing the paper bag with me onto my lap. “Eat up. You need your strength for today.” I waggled my eyebrows at her. My appetite was a mile long and growing.

  I had a shit ton of pent up energy in me. A mixture of excitement, trepidation and determination drove me to want to take every moment I had with this second chance. I wanted to immerse myself in it. Today was our last day together before she had to go back to work, and I got the keys to the new house.

  Harper sat up, the sheet falling away from her breasts. She caught it just before her nipples were fully exposed. I frowned, tugging it from her grip. “Better.” Her nipples tightened at the cold, and she laughed, rolling her eyes at me.

  “I’m starving,” she admitted, and I popped open the first box. She hummed with appreciation, taking the Styrofoam container and a fork from me. I grabbed her pillow and propped it up against the headboard, doing the same to the one behind my head.