"Okay, Coach Bellows. So...what do we do now?"
Clint begins to rub my back in the way he knows I love. "Well, we are both unemployed. So there is that. We have nowhere to live. All of your stuff is in Mitchum. We've no money and no prospects."
He screams this like Charlotte Lucas in Pride & Prejudice and I curse Minka for ever making the boys watch that movie. All they did was snicker and go on about English royalty for months.
"I have money. In my trust at least..."
"But would you really use it? That's your parent's money. It’s basically blood money..."
I contemplate that. "You're right. But I also worked hard on their preserves for years. I earned most of that. Hell, I'm not one of these kids who is righteous and determined to spite my parents by being successful. Fuck that."
Clint rubs my tummy and I look down. "Sorry, I guess I have to clean the language up a bit now, huh? But really, I mean, I have no qualms over taking the blood money and buying myself a nice little place with it. Those fuckers put me through more than enough. I've earned it. And if that makes me a selfish, dirty bitch then so be it. I'm providing for myself and my kid."
When I look up, Clint has one of those goofy ass smiles of his gracing those full lips. "You're the sexiest spitfire on the face of this planet. And you make me so proud. You're not selfish and you're not a bitch. And I love your honesty. You say exactly what everyone is thinking or wished they could say out loud."
He sighs and runs his thumb over my lip. "Okay. Not that we can play your infamous strip question game, because we already pretty much handled that. But, where are you going to buy said place?"
Memories of our abandoned strip game come back to me in heartwarming flashes. "I don't know..."
Clint is silent for a second before he speaks again. "Have you thought about talking to Jackson at all?"
My muscles tense up just at the mention of his name. I feel the tingling at the base of spine, the indication that I'll have a full blown anxiety attack if I begin to tackle the biological dad issue. I had to shut it down now.
"No. And I don't want you to bring it up. Ever again. I love you and I'm glad you're here, but not one word about Jackson. Got it?"
Clint nods and I can feel the motion as I snuggle into his incredible abs. "I guess the first thing I need to do is go back to Mitchum. Go through my stuff. We can figure everything out from there."
27
Kelsey
Standing outside of the ornate double doors of my parent's Mitchum mansion feels weird. But surprisingly, I don’t feel much. I never spent much time here when I did live in town, choosing to crash at Minka or Chloe's houses where family actually meant something.
All I related this house too were nannies and holidays spent alone. Stepping inside, our footsteps echo in the grand foyer. This place is like a mausoleum. The place where familial love and happiness come to die.
I rub my shoulders in the 80 degree heat and Clint comes to wrap his arms around my waist. "Let's get out of here quickly, yeah?"
We'd spent another month in New York mapping out a plan before deciding to come down here. Clint had come to his first doctor's appointment with me, my three month checkup, both of us tearing up as we'd heard the little acorn swimming around in there.
Turns out we’d conceived right around when Clint came back from Omaha. I’d always refused to take birth control, didn’t believe in those hormones in my body. But that meant that condoms, like they sometimes did, had failed. Which scared me at first, since I’d still been drinking when I hadn’t known that his boys could swim. But the doctor ran tests, assured me everything was okay with me and the baby.
For the first time, I had a real life family. Two people to call my very own, who had to put up with me even when I was being a pain in the ass. I'd told Clint he had to or else. He just smiled and said "gladly".
Clint had a job interview in Virginia tomorrow at a small non-profit that dealt with childhood obesity. I was along for the ride, coasting on my trust fund money until he made a decision about his career. Because as usual, I went where I pleased. Only nowadays, I went there with Clint.
I rubbed my small bump as we ascended the stairs. For as freaked out as I still was, I was getting used to having this tiny person living in my body. He or she was always with me, and our baby was going to be a cute, sassy little mix of Clint and me. And yes, I said sassy because I just had a hunch that this was a girly acorn.
Being back in my childhood bedroom is weird to say the least. Mostly because, again, I have no attachment to it. I could tell you every knick on the wall in Minka’s bedroom, or exactly where we kept our wine coolers in Chloe’s closet. My room? The most personal thing in it is a poster of Robert Pattinson back from my vampire, punk phase.
“Big Twilight fan, eh? I think I view you in a completely different light now…”
I throw a pillow at Clint to wipe that stupid, smug judgmental look off his rugged face. Stupid sexy asshole.
“I had a goth phase, okay? We all went through one.”
“Not me.” He shakes his head. “All boyband phase. I idolized JC Chasez.”
As if this information isn’t embarrassing enough for him, he does a little pop-lock and slide move. I have to bite my lip until the point of breaking the skin to keep my cackles inside.
“You can laugh. I know you want to. Come on Roo, give me a laugh!” Clint attacks me, tickling my sides until I’m puffing out and saying Uncle.
But it’s the front door shutting that has us both shooting upright, the worry and fear mirrored in the expressions we give each other.
I go to face our unexpected visitor first, moving through the doorway and out onto the open hallway staircase. Clint grabs my waist, half in support and half to stop me from keeling over as we look down on our guests.
Madeline and Hugo stand in the foyer, scowling up at us.
“What are you doing here, Kelsey?”
My brain associates Hugo as my father, but I needed to stop labeling him that way. He was just some no good, cheating bastard who happened to be married to my ice queen mother. I didn’t even want to look at him, much less use words to acknowledge him.
It was Clint who spoke for me. “We’re just gathering Kelsey’s things, Mr. O’Brien, and then we will be out of here.”
Madeline has to butt in. “And who, may I ask, are you? And why are you in my home?” She has her nose upturned, as if she can’t fathom why someone in jeans and a t-shirt would dare enter her home in that attire.
I had the sudden urge to scratch her eyes out. But I had better ammo to lob at her. “His name is Clint Bellows. He is my boyfriend…and also the father of my child. You should probably speak to the father of your grandchild more kindly, mother.”
Her mouth drops open, and it looks like Hugo is going to shit nails. “Wha…what? You’ve gone and got yourself pregnant? Why, you little slut—“
“Enough.” Clint silences my mother, his voice the definition of power and control. I beam up at him. “You will never speak to her like that again. Like I said, we’re getting her things, and we’re leaving.”
“And where do you suspect you’ll go? Huh, young lady? Don’t you expect any more money from us, you failure!” Hugo’s face is a putrid green, his rage and fear mixing to make one awful looking complexion.
And here’s where I lose it. Because I am officially done with these monsters ruling my life.
I march down the stairs, coming toe to toe with my parents, in name only. Madeline suddenly doesn’t look so tough, Hugo not so formidable.
“I don’t want your fucking money. I’m taking my things, and I’m taking my trust, and I never want to see either of you ever again.”
“And who says we are just going to let you take that entire trust that you didn’t even work for?” Hugo thinks he has some leverage on me.
I just chuckle like a psychopathic villain giving their climatic monologue. “Oh come on, Hugo. You have to try harder than that. I’m g
oing to walk, with my trust, and I will never hear from you again. And you want to know why? Because if you even try to come after me, try to contact me or badger me, I’ll go to the media. I’ll tell them what a sham your marriage is, how many people you’ve been fucking. Or, I can just out you, Madeline. I’m not sure that the media will like that their darling lied about her daughter’s paternity for all these years. Do you?”
The two of them stand there, gobsmacked as I feel Clint grinning behind me. This might quite possibly be the best feeling I’ve ever had. Sticking it to the robots who raised me after all this time, yeah it feels fucking great.
We turn to head back upstairs and throw the rest of my stuff in bags.
“Oh, and one more thing.” I turn on the spiral staircase. “I want the Virginia preserve. You’ll deed it over to me, make me controlling owner, whatever. Just put it in my name and never come back.”
* * *
I’d surprised myself when I’d demanded the Virginia preserve. I hadn’t planned to set foot back here in this lifetime. But as I’d blown over Madeline and Hugo, I knew I had to face all of my issues.
I’d never let conflict or problems hang over my life like dark clouds, and I was done letting that happen. Clint was back, we were on our way to a successful future, and I was a mother-to-be. Adulthood was knocking on the door, and I was going to hit this challenge out of the fucking park. I didn’t know any other way to do things.
We’d stayed in a hotel last night, snuggling naked under the covers until we couldn’t take it anymore and made slow, sweet love while Clint whispered in my ear. I hadn’t wanted to leave that little bubble this morning, but it was time to face the music. Or the tigers.
Clint pulled my little red Jetta up the familiar gravel preserve drive, and the knots in my stomach tightened and hardened. Happiness at being back in this place mixes with nauseous fear, and I look down to see my fingers shaking.
“You sure you want to do this, baby?” Clint grabs my hand across the console.
He looks so handsome in his grey suit, and I know he’s probably more nervous for today than I am. I squeeze back, trying to rub off some love and luck for his interview.
“Yes. I have to do this. Especially for the acorn.” I rub my tummy and smile.
“I love you. My sassy, kickass lady.”
Clint cleared the top of the hill, and I saw Jackson’s office come into view. I could feel the nervous sweat start under my boobs, which had already grown a size in my first trimester. Talk about perks of having a baby. I hope I get to keep them.
After pulling to a stop, he palms my chin and turns me toward that now clean-shaven, but still fucking sexy face. It’s all I can do not to pull on that tie until I’m straddling his lap. That’s another thing about pregnancy. The constant horniness. Although, I guess I had that one before.
“Just listen for once, okay? I think Jackson has some things to say that you’ll want to hear.”
He knows me too well. He gives me just enough room so that I still feel like my free, independent self, but has no problem going over my head to make decisions when he knows I’m being a coward.
“Alright.” I press my lips to his and mourn the loss of the scratchy stubble. It will be back soon he assured me.
It’s not until I’m watching him drive back down the hill that I wish he was holding my hand through this. And it’s amazing that I even think like that now, when just months ago I wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to become a vital part of my life.
My nerves are trying to wiggle out of my body as I trek up to Jackson’s office. I hadn’t talked to him since the blow up, and I hadn’t given him a chance to explain in the first place.
Clint and I have talked sparingly about what Jackson told him, so I know some of the back story. But it’s still painful to talk about, like a scab that keeps ripping open if I breathe the words biological dad. Clint tried not to push it, but he also wanted me to have the facts. And after two months away, I think I’m ready to stop picking at this issue, letting it fester. It’s time to heal the wound.
I don’t even bother knocking, because I never have, and let myself into the rusted old trailer he insists on keeping up here. I remember him telling me once that he wanted preserve guests or visiting scientists to visit him up here so that they would take him seriously. I think he just likes that this is sooo Jurassic Park.
“How can I…”
The man sitting in the chair trails off as he looks up and catches me standing in the doorway.
And everything clicks into place. The nose, the way our eyes are set on our faces. The ears, pointed slightly at the top to give that fox look everyone always associates with me. And a dozen other things.
I don’t know how I haven’t noticed it until now, but it’s clearer than the oceans of Antigua that Jackson is my father.
Now that I’m here, standing in the door, I’m not sure what to say. I can’t go with, “Hey, tell me about that time you and my mom had a secret affair and then had a child, me, and never told me about it.” That would be awkward.
“Kelsey…” It seems Jackson is just as dumbstruck as I am on what to do here.
It’s strange. We had this relationship, a great friendship. He was my greatest ally, my mentor. Finding out he is my father, something I’d wished for as a child and even as a teenager, should be a good thing. Except it slices at my heart that he was never honest about it.
“Would you like to sit down?” His rough voice is oddly tentative and gentle. Maybe he’s just as scared of me as I am of him.
Taking his direction, I move into the musty space, so full of paperwork and old magazines that I have to step over piles to get to his desk. I see his eyes trail over my bump, and I move my hand to rest over my growing stomach. I can’t even imagine what I’ll look like when the baby is full term. I’ll be so top heavy, even the Hawaiian Punch guy will feel bad for me.
“Are you…uh…”
“Pregnant? Yes.”
Jackson’s eyes are miles-wide, but then he rights his expression. “I’m sorry that was so rude of me. I have no right to ask that.”
I smile. “Well, you are an old friend. And apparently my father, so you probably do have the right.”
I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. And I’m not nervous often. So I feel like a fucking moron, babbling on and smiling like a loon.
“I can explain…”
“Please do.” I curse myself for cutting him off again. Okay Clint, I’m going to listen and shut my trap.
Jackson sighs, and I can see his leg jiggling up and down like a jackhammer under the desk. He starts to talk, his voice ragged and hoarse. I study his face as he tells me the tale, the story of my life. Deep lines run through the overly tanned skin, making him look older than he actually is. But in a handsome way. The way that men do after 40. Damn does it suck to be a woman.
His brilliant green eyes are the exact shade of the rolling hills in Blarney, Ireland. In his usual khaki uniform, Jackson is as much a part of this landscape as the wildlife and fauna that live here.
He weaves the sad story of young love, at least on his part, gone wrong. How my mother got pregnant, how she left. The first time he saw me. The way he’d confronted her, only to have his hopes of being my father, providing for me, dashed. How he’d had to watch her choose Hugo and then forfeit all right to me to keep his career. How he’d done it to protect me from the media.
“If I could go back and do it all again, I would fight for you. I took the coward’s way out, the one your mother provided to me. I should have taken the media firestorm. It would have meant being in your life.”
Tears suffuse my eyes, making it hard to see or think straight. I wipe them with my sleeve. I get it, why he did it. I know I’d only just embarked on this journey of motherhood, but already I felt a fierce, almost violent protectiveness to my child. I would cut down anyone in his or her path, walk through any fire.
“You did what you thought would protect me best.�
� I say it simply, and Jackson nods as if I’ve found the Holy Grail. “I would do the same for my child.”
At this, his face splits in two with the smile running across it, causing the dimple in his leathery left cheek to pop. “You really will be Mother Nature now.”
“You can call me Head Mother Nature, now.”
“What?” His face is curious and blank, letting me know that Madeline hasn’t alerted the staff yet to my takeover. I’ll have to do something about that.
“I told Madeline and Hugo that they would transfer the ownership of this preserve over to me, or I was running to the media. Say hello to your new boss.”
He’s silent for a moment, but then Jackson tilts his head back and laughs like a hyena. “Of course you are.”
We laugh some more until the moment dies out and we’re just kind of awkwardly staring at each other.
“Listen, Kels. I know you may never feel comfortable enough to call me dad or think of me as family. But…I’d really like to try. As you know, I don’t really have anyone. I’ve waited half my life to tell you just what you mean to me, and I’d love the opportunity to get to know you. As my daughter.”
My heart swells to epic proportions. Ever since I’d come home from Africa, I’d believed I would never have anyone who mattered in my life. And look at this little hippie nomad now. I have a boyfriend, a baby and a father all within six months. Life really couldn’t get much better. Except, I also had a preserve that was all my own. And all of the exotic animals I could ever want. So yeah, life really couldn’t get any better.
“I would love to try too.”
28
Clint
What no one tells you about the real world is that time moves fucking fast.
After accepting an offer from Healthy Kids, Healthy Lives, a non-profit half an hour from the preserve, Kelsey and I bought a decent sized townhouse. We’d spent weekends scouring furniture stores for just the right mix of modern — my style — and hippie chic, obviously her style.
Catching to Win (Over the Fence #3) Page 18
