I was both of those things; unworthy and selfish.
Seeing her today solidified the painful truth that I’ve always known; she would have chosen me, she would have chosen us, and if I hadn’t left the way I had—if I hadn’t broken off all contact…
But I had. Now I had to figure out how to repair all the damage I had caused; damage that went so much further than breaking the heart of the woman I’d loved.
It was years of missing out on an entire person, a person I had created. I’d managed to fuck up more in fatherhood than my own father, and if I wasn’t careful, I would drown in the disgust of that knowledge.
Be here now. It was simple, but it was also the hardest pill I would ever have to swallow. I would need to dig myself out of the ashes of the past, and it wasn’t going to be easy.
I stood, watching the sky slowly darken, listening to the surf’s roar, pondering my next steps. We had one more show before our tour ended, but I couldn’t board that plane. I couldn’t walk away from them again, especially not now.
My phone rang shrilly in my pocket, and I fished it out quickly, glancing at the caller ID. Dare’s name flashed, and I answered, saying nothing for a moment. I knew he could hear the surf.
“Cal? It’s Dare.”
“I know.”
“We haven’t heard from you in a couple of days—is everything okay, man?” he questioned.
“Not really,” I chuckled, almost bitterly.
“I’m sorry. I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Dare said. I could hear the disbelief and sorrow in his voice.
“It’s not that, well. It’s that, but it’s more. I fucked up, Dare.” I sighed.
“What are you talking about?”
“Harper.” Her name was the only thing I could say at that moment.
“What about her?”
I sighed. There was too much, so I got to the point. “I’m not going to be making my flight Friday night.” I knew he could figure out the subtext; that I was definitely going to miss the show Saturday night in Edmonton.
In the nine years that The Forgotten Flounders had toured, I’d never once missed a show, never fucked up a song, never left my bandmates hanging. I played while sick; I played while hungover, hell—I even played stoned out of my tree.
“Because of Harper?” he asked, stupefied. I hadn’t spoken her name aloud to him in years, at least not sober.
“She’s got a kid, my kid,” I replied, shaking my head.
“You’re fucking joking.” He deadpanned, falling silent for a few moments as he worked it out. “How do you know it’s yours?”
“Because his age lines up with when I left, and because it’s Harper. She wouldn’t lie about something like that. Because he looks just like me, and because I know in my fucking gut that he’s mine.”
“Easy, Cal. I’m just saying…” he hedged cautiously.
“I know, I’m sorry.” I inhaled, the crisp air coming off the ocean, soothing my raw lungs. “I’ve got a lot of shit to figure out right now. I can’t leave, not yet.”
“This is our last show for a while, why don’t you play it and then we’ll take a small hiatus?”
“I hate to let the fans down—and you guys too, but I really can’t leave, Dare. I’m meeting him Saturday night. If I reschedule or push it, it’ll give the impression that I don’t care and that I’d chose music over him, like I did to her. I can’t do that—not again.”
The line was silent for several beats. I waited them out, knowing he had every right to be pissed at me. “I get it. We’ll cancel the show. Extenuating circumstances and whatnot.” He didn’t sound happy about it, but I didn’t expect him to. My fuck ups were now affecting our band.
“Thanks, man,” I said, some of the burden releasing from my shoulders, new guilt filling the space.
“Don’t mention it. I’ll talk to Evan and Tai, and we’ll get it sorted on this end. Guess this means we’ll be making it to the funeral after all. I’ll give you a call later once our flight is booked, okay?”
“All right,” I said before ending the call. I sank down, sitting in the cold, damp sand, gaze affixed to the horizon. Impulsively, I snapped a picture of the sunset and pulled up Harper’s name. She still hadn’t replied to my last message.
I’ve never forgotten.
Those three words went so much deeper than simply never forgetting her number.
Harper
July 23rd, 2008
The fine white sand was warm and soft beneath my bare feet as we walked along the beach, stealing coveted glances at one another.
Calum Jacobs was everything book boyfriends were made of. Never before had a real-life boy caused an explosion of butterflies to riot in my belly with a simple glance, or the graze of the back of his hand against the back of mine.
When he approached me in the bookstore and asked me out, I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t imagining him. He was attractive in every sense; dark hair, piercing eyes, tall and sinewy. He smelled like leather, the sea, and something else—something that was entirely him and entirely alluring to me. Pheromones, probably.
I was a puddle of need beneath his feet, but I fought it. Or I tried to, anyway. But boredom and curiosity won out.
He took me to all his favourite, touristy places, saving this beach for last. I’d explored Lunenburg myself a little but seeing it through Calum’s eyes was like seeing it through a completely different lens.
It was strange. I’d only just met him, and yet…I felt as comfortable in his presence as I did with people I’ve known all my life. It was almost like a part of me recognized a part of him; an instant connection, if you will.
Calum had a disarming smile, and a way of looking at me like he was seeing all of me. For so much of my life, I’d felt unseen. My mother was consumed by my father’s career in the Royal Canadian Air Force, and so much of her time was spent worrying about him. Now that he was retired, it was like they were in their second honeymoon phase.
Little seemed to exist outside the two of them, and I was okay with it. They deserved the time, and I was used to being independent. I was lonely, though. Lonely and bored, my only escape was from the books I disappeared in.
But in less than forty-eight hours of meeting, Calum pulled me out. His playful, bold energy revived me. From the moment his eyes first locked with mine, something had awoken in me.
In the hours we’d spend touring around Lunenburg, he had proven through invigorating conversation that he was as smart as he was charismatic. Having his attention made me want to be a little bolder. It made me venture outside of myself and the reserved way I usually behaved.
“Favourite classic novel?” I asked him, watching while his brow creased with concentration as he thought it over.
“Lord of the Flies,” he answered, tossing me a dimpled smile that literally caused me to trip over my own feet. He laughed, his arms reaching out to steady me. My skin burned beneath his touch, and I grinned, unable to stop the laughter from spilling past my lips.
“Morbid,” I said, still smiling. “But somehow unsurprising.”
“Maybe, but it was the only classic novel I’ve managed to get through,” he grinned, pausing and looking toward the horizon. I followed his gaze, the oxygen stolen from my lungs by the beautiful orange and yellow hues of the sun slinking lower and lower in the sky, closer and closer to the bay. “What about you? What’s your favourite classic novel, Miss Books?”
“Jane Eyre,” I replied, turning my head, affixing on his peculiar eyes. I’d never seen eyes quite like his before; they were more breathtaking than the most beautiful of sunsets. It wasn’t fair that a male should have such beautiful eyes, framed with such thick lashes, but instead of feeling jealous of his eyes—I felt spellbound.
His lips twitched into another sizzling smile, and he cocked a brow at me like my answer had given away so much about me. “Is that the one with the rich selfish guy who wouldn’t marry beneath his station, or is it the one who locked his wife in
an attic?”
“The one who locked his wife in an attic,” I replied, lips twitching with amusement at his summarization.
“Do you think it’s the greatest classic novel of all time?”
“That’s debatable,” I replied, pausing for a breath. “I haven’t read every classic novel. But it’s the reigning champion.”
“And what about it do you love so much?” he asked, his transcendental blue eyes practically glowing with warmth and interest.
“It’s a novel centuries before it’s time; it’s the embodiment of a strong, independent female protagonist. She was a nineteen-century feminist, and although she fell in love, she didn’t lose herself to it.” I replied.
Calum’s answering smile held enough wonderment in it to assure me that I wasn’t boring him. He seemed just as engaged by our conversation as I was.
Catching a stray tress that had fallen loose of my braid; his fingers brushed softly against my skin as he tucked it behind my ear. His hand lingered, his eyes losing their playful glint—but never their warmth. If anything, those deep pools of blue heated—causing a transitory reaction throughout my entire system.
My heart was racing, fluttering madly away in my chest. It continued to speed up as his fingers brushed against my scalp, and his hand flattened, his palm pressing against the side of my neck, his thumb and index finger caging in my ear.
I knew he was reading me, watching for some sign of protest—but I had none. I wanted his lips on me like it was critical to have them, and it was. I bit down on my lip, and moved a fraction closer to him, tilting my chin in open invitation.
That subtle movement was the only thing Calum needed to spur into action; his lips capturing mine in a kiss I hadn’t realized just how desperately I’d needed.
He was gentle and slow at first, tasting my lips as if I were a delicacy, a rarity. My lips parted invitingly, and he sighed a breath, dropping his free hand to my waist, tugging me closer before he deepened the kiss. Our tongues and lips moved perfectly in sync. Each stroke breathed life into the ache between my thighs, and the pointed evidence of his arousal pressing against me told me I wasn’t the only one suffering with want.
Calum Jacobs wasn’t my first kiss by any means, but he may as well have been. Kissing him was a full-body experience; my core tightened, my heart soared, butterflies fluttered in my belly, and time stood still. All other kisses before it paled, and even in that moment…I knew all others after would, too.
In a crowded beach on a summer’s night, the setting sun painting a background of warmth and potential, we were alone in our own little world. One that I’d happily stay locked in for hours.
My fingers fisted the material of his t-shirt, the kiss slowing into long, languishing kisses as he shifted closer.
Calum reluctantly pulled away, although his hand remained splayed against my lower back. His other hand still cradled my face, and his thumb stroked lightly against my jawline.
I blinked, trying to catch my bearings, trying to breathe through the ache between my thighs. It was almost painful, this desire for him, and so caught off guard was I by the kiss that had Calum’s hand not been pressed against my back, I’d probably have fainted.
The astonishing—albeit embarrassing part—was that wasn’t an exaggeration, I was so breathless, fainting was a real possibility. I didn’t need to raise a finger to my lips to know that they were swollen; ravaged thoroughly by him.
“Wow,” he said, his tongue darting over the seam of his lips, his gaze fastened on me like he couldn’t look away—like the kiss, and everything it evoked, had startled him as well.
The tips of his fingers pressing against my lower back, pulling me closer to him. With one word and the astonished, intrigued look in his eyes, he’d conveyed exactly what was running through my mind, too.
“I don’t usually kiss boys who aren’t my boyfriend,” I blurted, the words escaping before I could call them back.
“You have a boyfriend?” his brow cocked, but he didn’t release me. It was like he’d claimed me with that kiss.
“No, I mean. I don’t kiss boys unless…“ I trailed off, realizing how stupid I sounded. I’d meant it as a reminder to myself, not for him to hear.
But Calum grinned, bringing his lips to my ear, speaking directly into the shell of it, the warmth of his breath made goosebumps erupt along every inch of my skin. “I guess I’m your boyfriend now.”
“We’ve only known each other for a couple of hours,” I pointed out, fighting a smile. The euphoric effects of that kiss still heavily upon me, and I felt almost incoherent. I was stumbling around my thoughts, trying to grasp ahold of them, trying to analyze them. “I just meant that I don’t usually kiss boys that I’ve just met.”
He brought his hand up to cup my chin, gently holding it so I had no choice but to look up at him. “I only had to kiss you once to know that I don’t want to kiss anybody else, and I don’t want you to kiss anybody else either,” Calum said, his eyes reflecting his sincerity.
I was about to respond smartly to his line, even though his words made my heart palpitate— when he ran his thumb over my lips. My smart remarks dissipated on my tongue as he silenced my hesitation with another kiss, just as earth-shattering as the first one.
I melted against him, taking everything he gave, and giving it back. It was a language that should have been unfamiliar, but somehow—I could speak it fluently.
I awoke with a jolt, sitting up quickly in bed to get my bearings. Moonlight poured in through my windows, casting a glow on the cream walls of my bedroom. I watched the beams, slowing my breathing and working to still my heart.
The dreams that were memories stung the most, and tonight’s dream was particularly jarring. It was as if my subconscious mind tormented me even in my sleep, reminding me how good it had once been, when it could never be that way again.
Worse was the lingering hollow ache between my thighs, which pulsed more fervently the more I stewed about seeing him again, and it only served to anger me more.
My desire for Calum Jacobs had never quietened; it had never lessened in any capacity, and I’d been a fool to think it had.
I blamed myself, of course. Perhaps if I’d tried a little harder to fall for someone else, I wouldn’t be contending with these heady emotions. I was certain they were fueled by loneliness, spurred by the fact that nobody knew my body like he did.
Frustrated, I rolled over, closing my lids tightly and pleading with the sleep gods for a few more hours of rest.
But sleep didn’t come; just thought after thought, whirling and quickening, one after the other, as if my brain had been jolted awake with an electrical shock. My head pounded with exhaustion, and my body pleaded for sleep, but my mind wouldn’t release from its repetition.
As the minutes ticked closer to seven, I rolled over and reached for my cell phone. It rested face down on the end table, so the notifications wouldn’t light up the room and disturb me while I tried to sleep.
After tucking Asher in, I read the last text Calum sent over and over again until my eyes blurred with exhaustion. I’ve never forgotten. I must have mulled over those three words for hours, questioning their meaning, questioning my obsession with their meaning.
The girl inside me, the girl who once fell for a boy on a beach eleven years ago, desperately hoped for something the woman I was now knew was unrealistic and fanciful.
To my astonishment, three dots appeared in the chat window. Calum was up, too—and typing a message. After a moment, the three dots disappeared, as if he’d deleted it all. They came back, promptly disappearing for a second time, and I chewed on my lower lip in deliberation.
Part of me wanted to reach out and ask him if he was okay. He’d lost his grandfather and found out about his son all in one week. It had to be a lot to take in. But when the three dots disappeared for a final time and stayed gone, I lost my nerve. I didn’t know how to reach out to him, and I didn’t know what to say to make any of this less painful�
�for either of us.
Harper
Just after nine, I pushed through the bookstore doors and headed straight to the café, my boots dragging against the hardwood floor. A glass of water and Advil had chased away the pounding headache from lack of sleep, but I desperately needed caffeine.
“Hey,” Ellery greeted me, casting a fleeting glance that held some concern before resuming her task of caffeinating me, like the good friend she was. I hummed in response, accepting the paper cup gratefully. She smiled sympathetically, waiting until I’d had a couple of sips to press for more. “How’d the talk with Asher go?”
“Surprisingly well.” Drawing my bottom lip in, I chewed on it thoughtfully before continuing. “Calum is coming over for dinner Saturday night, and Asher’s really excited about it.”
“This Saturday night?” she responded with surprise, her brow furrowing.
“Yeah.” I paused, hesitating. “Why? Is that too soon?”
“No, not at all.”
“Am I doing the right thing, Ellery? Letting him come back like this?” I asked, my voice lined with uncertainty.
“Well, that depends. Who are you doing this for?”
I frowned. “For Asher, of course. It feels wrong to keep them apart, but I guess I’m just worried…” I trailed off, not voicing the rest of that thought…that he’d choose music over Asher, the way he’d chosen music over me.
“That he’ll bail again?” Ellery finished for me, her eyes softening. “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Harper.”
“What makes you say that?” I demanded, needing more reassurance. I knew I wouldn’t get any from my parents, who’d likely argue with my decision to let Calum meet Asher so quickly after his return—which was precisely why I hadn’t told them.
They would want me to wait, to make sure that he was serious with his intentions. But I knew Calum, and his reaction to the news had felt authentic. He was stricken, and he seemed to genuinely want to get to know Asher…but still, I was scared. Terrified. My safe little world had been obliterated with his return.
Off Beat (Forgotten Flounders Series Book 1) Page 8