Colton: Wordsmith Chronicles Book 2 (The Wordsmith Chronicles)

by Christopher Harlan

  “What do you mean?”

  “My dad was many things but intelligent wasn’t one of them. I guess he was too broken to understand all the different parts of himself. On one hand he thought it was cool to take his anger out on me and my mom. But then the prideful side of him—the one that didn’t want a ‘pussy’ for a son—showed me all of his tendencies as a fighter. We used to spar, hard, and I got to learn how he threw punches, how to block them, and I banked all that knowledge for when I needed it next. He didn’t even realize what he was doing.”

  “He was doing more than that, Colt.”

  “How’s that?”

  “He was teaching you more than just how to fight. He was teaching you that fighting was how you settled differences—how you deal with problems that words can’t fix. To say it simply, he was teaching you how to be a violent man.” Hearing her state it like that hits me harder than any blow my dad ever threw at me. It hits me in the chest, and I can literally feel the effects of her words on my body. I feel disgusted. “And now we’ve come full circle.”

  I lean forward in my chair like I just had a revelation. I always knew my Dad was scum, and that my anger came from years of physical abuse, but I never thought of his abuse as instructive—as teaching me on some level that it’s okay to be that way. Holy shit. “Wow,” is all I can think to say. “Just, wow.”

  “Take this before you go.”

  “Another short session, huh?”

  “I know you need to get going, and it’s not about quantity, it’s about understanding yourself. Once you get to that point then it’s time to reflect, and you don’t need me for that.” God, she’s good at her job. “But remember this like it’s your mantra, and I want you repeat it to yourself—either in your head or out loud—whenever those feelings surface.”

  “What is it?”

  “Break the cycle. Only you can break the cycle of violence.”

  Our session ends as quickly as it began, but in that brief time I feel like I’ve hit some kind of milestone, and I realize right away what a good therapist can do. She’s right, I have a lot to reflect on, but I also have a huge weekend coming up at RAAC. She walks me out of the office and I thank her again.

  “I know that I have to be here and all, but thank you for your help.”

  “Don’t thank me, Colt,” she tells me. “Just get better. That’s all the thanks I need.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “I know you are. Enjoy your signing, okay? I better get some signed books when this is all done with.”

  “You will, I promise, from all the guys.”

  As I’m leaving I hear Calem come back in from his run. He looks like a stereotypical New York jogger right now—the circles of sweat extending outwards under the arms of his shirt, the headphones dangling from his ears, and the deep breaths he’s taking to compensate for the rapid beating of his heart. God, being a romance author is a curse sometimes. I’m looking at one of the most storied NYPD detectives in the organization’s history (I Googled him), a friend, and basically my Jiu Jitsu instructor, but all I can think of as he stands there looking muscular and sweaty is how great a cover of him would sell. Author problems.

  “Hey, Calem.” I wave at him just in case he can’t hear me through his headphones. He looks at me with wide eyes like he’s trying to acknowledge my call.

  “Hey. How was the session?”

  “Awesome, man. You have a very talented wife.”

  “Shh, don’t say that too loud, she’s bound to get a big head.”

  “You ever consider doing any modeling work? You might make a best-selling romance cover, you know that?”

  He starts laughing, almost uncontrollably for about five seconds, and I just stand there feeling like an asshole. “That’s why I love you, Colt. You keep me on my toes. I’ve been asked a lot of questions in my life, but whether or not I ever considered being on the cover of a romance novel is a new one.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “The answer is no, I haven’t, but I’ll take the question as a compliment. Thanks, brother.”

  “No problem. But if you ever reconsider, I know one of the best photographers around. You’d like him actually, he’s a fitness guy also, about your size or a little bigger.”

  “You’ll have to hook us up at some point, then. I’m always looking for good partners to push my body farther than it’s gone before.”

  “I will, for sure. Hey, unrelated, can you walk me out, I have something I wanted to run by you.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  I say goodbye to Cordelia one last time, and she waves from across her living room. It was a good session, and I actually feel better that I got some of those things out, even though I haven’t thought of them directly in years. As Calem walks me down the steps I consider what I’m about to say to him one more time to make sure that it’s a road I want to go down. I actually thought about it all the way over here from Queens, and I told myself that I wouldn’t seek Calem out, but if I happened to see him that I was going to tell him about something. Now that I’m face to face with him I’m not so sure.

  Fuck it, I decide.

  Then, I tell him everything he needs to know.

  14

  Harley

  I open Facebook ten minutes before they do it.

  The Wordsmiths are going to go live for their big cover reveal and I’m so happy for Colton and the guys. Rowan and I meet at my place to check it out. I invited Everleigh, too, but she’s already seen the cover. One of the perks of living with an author, I guess. Those two are really in love, and she moved into his house last week. She’s been really swept up in wedding planning for a while now. I never realized how much there is to do for a wedding until I got some behind-the-scenes looks with Everleigh. There are about a thousand little decisions that have be made, and a whole bunch of major ones. Tonight she’s checking out a catering hall out east on Long Island with her parents. Knight told her to go ahead without him since he had the big reveal. So it’s just me and Ro and a bottle of rosé.

  “I can’t wait,” she says, finishing up her first glass.

  “Pace yourself, Ro,” I tell her. “You wanna be able to see straight when they finally post the cover.”

  “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

  Rowan’s jumped head first into the indie romance world. Just a few months ago she was a full blown, judgmental prude when it came to my reading habits, but Everleigh and I managed to drag her, fake kicking-and-screaming, to the Wordsmith signing, and she’s never looked back. She still tries to put on a front that she’s this chaste, blue blood from time to time, but that’s just the remnants of her upbringing not allowing her inner freak to come out and play. She’ll get there eventually. Grayson will help her.

  “Who do you think they got on the cover?” she asks. I love that she’s getting into this.

  “Do you even know cover models?” I ask, smiling at her.

  “I know a few. I downloaded a ton of books on my Kindle. Got a lot of deals and took advantage of free promotions.”

  “Good job, girl, you’re learning.”

  It’s true. If you’re a hardcore reader and you’re on a budget you have to learn how to play the game to get more content. What’s great about indie authors is that they have to do their own promotion. It sucks for them but it’s great for readers like me because there are always ways to get your Kindle filled with great books. Authors do giveaways for their new books, contests where you can follow them on social media or share a post in exchange for a chance to win a free book, and then there are countdown deals where they can discount their books, or make them free, for a certain period of time. If you keep up with enough authors there are always chances to get great content—like a romance author lottery that goes on every day of the year.

  “I got Grayson’s last book that way.”

  “You won a contest?” I ask. She shakes her head. “He’s running a Kindle Countdown? I didn’t see it.”

  “Nope, not a countdown eith
er.”

  “Shit, Ro, don’t tell me you went on one of those piracy websites and downloaded illegally.”

  “Fuck, Har, what do you think of me? You know I’d never do something like that. First of all I’m not that cheap—these books aren’t exactly priced like collectibles—and secondly, I know I’m new to this world, but I’d never do that to an author.”

  Thank God. For a second I was actually mad at one of my best friends. The only reason my mind even went there is because I know some women who are otherwise ethical and nice people who nonetheless have no issue going on one of the many, many piracy websites that exist out there and downloading a paid book for free. It’s basically stealing money right out of an author’s pockets in a field where very few of them make a full time living out of it, but I guess ethics go out the window when you can get free stuff.

  “Good,” I say, relieved that she didn’t take that road. “But how, then?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I raise my eyebrow to that one. She has my attention now. “Oh, I think it might. What are you hiding over there?”

  “Nothing.” She’s lying. I know her as well as I know anyone in the world, which means that I can tell when she’s trying to keep something from me. She makes really bad eye contact and grins a little bit like she’s embarrassed and happy at the same time.

  “Why don’t you let me judge whether it’s nothing? Tell me where you got the book.”

  “Okay, fine. I guess I can’t hide things from you.”

  “Nope,” I joke. “Never could.”

  “Well, if you must know, he gifted it to me.”

  “Grayson?”

  “Uh-huh. Sent it to my Kindle directly.”

  “Just that book?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “How many books?”

  “His whole library.”

  “What?” I sit up straight and almost spill my wine all over the couch. “All of his books? Why?”

  “’Cause I said I wanted to read them the other night.”

  “The other night?”

  “Yeah,” she says as if it’s nothing. “We were texting for a while. I told him that I wanted to read more of his books, so he sent them to me.”

  I’m in the fucking Twilight Zone right now. I knew that there was a little spark between Rowan and Grayson, but I didn’t know they were actively talking to one another. . .late at night. . .in secret. . .with gifts. “I’m pissed. When were you going to tell me?” I’m not really pissed, but I’m good at faking it so that Ro feels guilty.

  “I wasn’t, honestly. There’s nothing to tell. It’s not like we’re dating or fucking or something.”

  I’ve never heard Rowan use the F-word like that. I’ve heard her say it in anger a bunch of times over the years, but never as a word to describe sex. I don’t know if it’s the books, Grayson, or some combination of both, but something is definitely changing with her. Instead of pointing it out I just decided to let if flow.

  “Well I hope you’re not fucking anyone without telling me, especially one of the guys.”

  “Same.” Now it’s her giving me the eyebrow and the grin. I have to say, I love Rowan like a sister, but I’m loving this version of her even more.

  “No, alright. The answer is no.” She doesn’t need to actually ask me. The question in her mind is, are you screwing Colton. And the answer, unfortunately, is no. “We’re not.”

  “And how come? He’s hot, Har.”

  “Yeah he is. No offense to you or Everleigh, but I think he’s the hottest of the group.”

  “Agree to disagree,” she says. “But I guess that’s how it should be. You should think he’s the hottest. And shit, they’re all hotter than the average bear.”

  “Aren’t we a lucky bunch of girls?” I say this last part a little sarcastically. I’m speaking like we’re three couples, but we’re not. If you put the six of us together you have one very happy couple, and two. . .I don’t even know what to call the other arrangements. Me and Colton are hot for each other but haven’t done much, physically, and apparently Rowan and Chase are in some weird, high school texting-late-at-night-in-secret phase. We’re all kind of weird, undefinable messes. “But hey, no more secrets, okay? Even if you don’t think they’re secrets. If you’re unsure whether something’s private or not just run it by me first and I’ll let you know.”

  “Oh, is that how it works?”

  “I think it is, yeah, because if I find out that that you’re doing more than just reading a whole set of free books, I’m going to be upset. I need to know these things.”

  We each take a sip of our wine and snuggle up on the couch with the Wordsmith reader group page open. As soon as I see the little red notification at the bottom I’m going to click and open up their live video. I’m excited for the book—I love a good cover reveal—but really I’m psyched about seeing Colton on video. I’ve been thinking about him non-stop—his coal black hair, dark eyes, and muscled body have been on my mind almost 24/7, and now that Rowan and I are talking about sex they’re on my mind even more so.

  Right on time I see the little red notification at the bottom of my Facebook screen and I click. “The Wordsmiths are Live” is at the top of my screen, and as soon as I click on the link I see the boys—Knight, Colton, and Grayson all sitting around at Knight’s house. They really are a great looking group of guys, but I stand by what I said before—Colt is the hottest of the hot. Knight’s speaking, and Grayson is looking handsome in the back, but my eyes are locked on only one of them. He’s sitting there is a tight v-neck tee, a light purple that accentuates his dark features, and even though he’s smiling at a phone, I feel like he’s looking only at me.

  I can’t wait until I see him.

  It’s still early in the day, and he promised to take me on an awesome date later. I kinda forced him to be creative but, hell, he’s a writer, creativity should come with the territory. I know he’s going to step up, and I’m so excited for it. Their live video lasts about twenty minutes and at the end they hold up the cover of the book into the camera.

  “And here you go, everyone, the cover of the Wordsmith Chronicles, featuring. . .”

  “Brody!”

  Rowan’s voice rings out in perfect harmony with Colton’s, and she’s right, that’s Brody, one of the more popular cover models out there. I swear he’s on like ten of the books on my Kindle right now, but when you’re that hot women don’t really get tired of seeing you half naked in compromising poses. Good choice, boys. “Very good. You’re a quick study, Ro.”

  “Thanks. I’m getting my Ph.D. in smut.”

  “Oh, shit, I’ve gotta get ready. He said he’s picking me up about a half hour after they’re done with their video. I have to make myself beautiful.”

  “You’re always beautiful, girl. You know that.”

  I blow Rowan a kiss and then run off to the bathroom. He told me to wear my favorite dress, but nothing too fancy. I don’t know where he’s taking me, but I’m intrigued.

  15

  Colton

  I feel bad that I ran out of Mike’s place the second we cut off the live feed, but I have something just as important as a cover reveal to do, and I’m not about to be late for it. I promised Harley an original date—something fun and something unique—and I plan on delivering on my promise. New York traffic is a bitch no matter the time of day, but I think for once I may have avoided the cluster fuck that’s coming a few hours from now, when the sounds of horns will be so loud that you’ll be able to hear them in Jersey. But right now it’s pretty smooth sailing, and I make it to Harley’s place exactly thirty five minutes after the live feed ended.

  When I knock on the door Rowan answers, looking a little happy for this time of day. “Hey there, sexy Colton writer man.”

  I can smell the wine on her breath. “Hey there, Rowan. Are you drunk?”

  “Absolutely,” she confesses. “That’s what four glasses of wine and a sexy cover reveal will do to a girl.”<
br />
  I ignore the part that sounds like low grade alcoholism and jump right to the book part. “Oh, you saw! That’s great, what’d you think?”

  “We both saw,” she tells me. “And I think that Grayson is better looking than Brody. Just one woman’s opinion. Maybe you should have put him on the cover.”

  She’s not full out slurring her words, but she’s right on that line. “Yeah, I don’t know about that, Ro. Might be a bad look for an author to appear on his own cover. I don’t think the readers would buy it—literally and figuratively.”

  “I’d buy it,” she tells me. “Literally and figuratively.”

  “I bet you would. Where’s Harley?”

  “Getting all pretty for you,” she says. “Jeez, where are my manners? Come in.”

  “No, it’s okay, we’re just leaving.” I hear Harley’s voice come from behind Rowan, and then I see her. She looks stunning, and when my eyes hit her it’s like Rowan vanishes.

  “Holy shit,” I say. “You look. . .what’s better than beautiful?”

  “You’re the writer, you tell me.”

  “I don’t know the right word at the moment, but whatever it is, that’s what you are.”

  “See,” Rowan says. “That’s what I was saying. Getting all beautiful for you.”

  “Can you give us a second?” Harley puts her index finger up and I nod, and then she closes the door. I hear voices but can’t make out exactly what’s being said. A few seconds later the door opens, Harley steps out in front where I’m patiently waiting, and then the door shuts again. “Okay, we’re all good.”

  “What happened in there?” I ask.

  “I took the rest of the wine from her and poured what was left in the bottle down the drain. She didn’t like it, but she needs to sober up. She’s not a pretty drunk.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression. Do you have anything else to drink in there that she could get to?”