“I’ve been busy—“
“No, you’ve been avoiding me. I saw the article. I know what Mr. Heartbreak said. And since you’re too mopey to answer my calls, I was forced to drag my ass all the way down to your shitty apartment to make sure you weren’t dead on the floor with Couch Cat clawing out your eyeballs.”
“Wait. What? You’re here?” I glanced around the apartment in a panic.
“Just giving you fair warning, so you had pants on when I got there,” she said.
I started hustling around my apartment like my ass was on fire, picking up trash and shoving it out of sight.
“There’s nothing worse than watching you ball your eyes out while you’re sitting around in your underpants.” She paused, and then I heard the ding of the elevator through the phone, announcing that she was on my floor. “You have thirty seconds to get your shit together while I find my key.”
I slammed the door to my closet shut, and when I heard the key slip into the lock of my front door, I sighed and flopped down on the bed in defeat. There was no point in fighting Storm Willow when she was blustering. Best to just let her have her way now and pick up the wreckage afterward.
***
Willow’s way ended up being a flight out to California to spend Thanksgiving with my dad. She’d invited herself and Marlow as well. I usually spent Thanksgiving with Flex since I couldn’t afford to go home often, but even though I whined and complained about being forced to go back to California, I was secretly happy. I needed to get out of town…away from Maryland, my apartment, and memories of Trace. I needed to get a new perspective. To try to figure out exactly what I wanted out of my future.
I needed to figure out how to tell my dad I almost made him a grandfather. Because eventually the health insurance forms would rat me out and there would be bills to pay. Guess I’d be picking up extra shifts at the Dairy.
Ugh. The days of Perfect Harlow were definitely numbered, and for once, it was kind of a relief.
— TRACE —
28. FIGHT FOR ME
November 23, 2016
IS TRACE STONE HUNGRY FOR A WIN? By National Sports Network
Trace Stone finished his pre-season training at Mammoth Mountain in California this week and will be starting off his competitive season at the beginning of December in Aspen, Colorado—the first stop on the Back Country Tour.
“He’s feeling great,” his agent, Jesse Dunne, said. “He’s just as excited to get back to racing as his fans are to see him.”
But not everyone is happy to have Stone back at the top of the mountain.
“Stone is old news. He might have been top dog once, but his luck ran out,” Javier Bellini boasted. “I predict that you’ll be seeing my name at the top of every leader board this season. I’m the guy who’s going to be crossing the finish line first.”
When asked how he can make such a prediction without seeing Stone in action, Bellini responded, “The X-Games broke him last year. This year, I will.”
Snowboard cross has always been an unforgiving sport, but it looks like Stone now has more than just a tough course and an old injury to contend with. The rest of the racers smell blood, and they’re hungry for a win. The question is, are they hungrier than Stone?
=========================
Harlow wasn’t exactly the kind of girl to be apologetic about anything, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting at least a little regret from her. I couldn’t believe that she thought I’d cheated on her. And I was still furious that she’d gotten an abortion without talking to me first. It’s not that I was judging her, I was still a little stunned over the whole idea of a pregnancy, but it stung that she didn’t want me to be there with her when she made the decision and went through the procedure.
I’d been stewing in bitterness and anger for the last five days.
She’d told me not to come knocking on her door, but there was no way I was letting this thing between us go without having my say face-to-face. She wasn’t brushing me off with a few texts.
When I rapped my knuckles on the door, I heard the loud mewing of Couch Cat and then heavy footsteps. When the door opened, I was struck silent.
“Hey, Trace!” Flex said, his smile large.
My jealousy flared up like gasoline thrown on flames. What was he doing here? Had she already moved on?
“Hey, Flex,” I managed to say. “Is Harlow here?” I tried to look beyond him to see if she was hiding inside and whether she’d avoid me or man up and have the long overdue chat we needed.
“Nah.” He opened the door and ushered me inside. “She went home for Thanksgiving and asked me to stop in and feed her cat.” He turned to go into the kitchen and gestured at the countertop. “There’s a package here for you. She said to give it to you if you came by while I was here.”
I walked to the countertop and glanced down at the large manila envelope with my name on it. “Oh? Are you here a lot?” I lifted the package, wondering what was inside.
He reached under the kitchen counter and pulled out the bag of cat food. “No more than usual. Just here feeding Couch Cat the last few days. Oh, and I was here last weekend to check on her after her D&C.”
I glanced up from the letters of my name, my forehead creasing in confusion. “D&C?”
When the cat food started to tip into the bowl with a loud jingling sound, Couch Cat came running, nudging her face in the way to eat as food continued to pour in.
Flex shrugged. “Yeah. They put her under anesthesia, which was a good thing. She was a mess. She thought the miscarriage was all her fault.”
His words were like a dozen knives straight into my chest. “Harlow had a miscarriage?”
Flex looked up, his expression stricken. Food continued to fall out of the bag and all over the floor. “Oh shit. That was a secret. I wasn’t supposed to tell you about the miscarriage. Shit. I’m sorry dude.”
A miscarriage? That didn’t make sense. She’d just told me she was pregnant and then the next day she said she wasn’t. How could she have miscarried?
“Are you okay?” Flex asked.
I blinked a few times and realized he was crouched on the floor trying to stuff the extra food back in the bag before Couch Cat could eat it.
“I thought when she said it was gone, it meant she got an abortion.”
He scowled at me. “Do you really think she’d do that without telling you first?” He stood up and tossed the bag of cat food on the counter where it fell over and scattered bits of stuff all over the place. “I know she’s stubborn, but she’s not heartless.” He walked toward me, and the happy go lucky Flex I was used to seeing was nowhere in sight. This Flex looked like he wanted to kick my ass six ways to Sunday.
“I know, I just…” I paused, my anger turning into uncertainty. Why didn’t she just tell me it was a miscarriage? Why let me think she’d had an abortion? “Is she okay?”
His mouth flattened into a grimace, and he shrugged. “Physically, yeah. She’s trying to act like everything is normal, but she’s…changed.”
I understood. I felt changed too, and not in a good way.
“So,” he said, brushing his hands on his pants. “What’s the deal between you two?”
I gripped the envelope in my fist. “That’s between Harlow and me.” I couldn’t even process the way I was feeling. “But just so you know, I’m not the one walking away. She is,” I added.
He stared at me for a moment, and then he nodded once before turning toward the counter to clean up his mess yet again. “If you want her, you’re going to have to fight for her,” he said without looking up.
My answering laugh held no amusement. “I’ve been doing that since the moment I met her.” I tore off the edge of the envelope and reached inside to pull out a stack of papers.
He grinned and then looked up to meet my eyes. “Then maybe it’s time to make her fight for you.”
“Meaning?”
“She thinks she knows what’s best…for both of you
.” Flex nodded toward the papers. “I happen to think she’s wrong.”
I looked down at the sheets in my hand and had the urge to rip them in two as I read them. “Did you look at these?” I growled.
Flex shoved the bag of cat food under the sink and then started filling another bowl with water. He turned to face me before setting the bowl on the floor. “Of course I did. Harley’s like a sister to me. I have a right to know why my best friend is an emotional disaster.”
I flipped through the pages in my hand, trying to figure out what I should do. I’d done nothing but chase Harlow since the moment I met her. And now I was holding annulment papers that she expected me to sign. I squeezed the edges in my fist, watching the way her signature crumpled and disappeared under the pressure before I released my grip and shoved them back into the envelope.
“I think you’re right, Flex,” I finally said. “I think it’s time for Harlow to fight for me.”
— HARLOW —
29. LUCKILY UNLUCKY
November 24, 2016
BELOW THE FOLD By Harlow Ransom
We regret to inform you that the story for today has been pulled from publication due to unforeseen circumstances. We have no further information as to when Harlow Ransom will be back above the fold again.
=========================
My dad had been retired from the Navy for a long time, but you couldn’t tell by looking at him. He still kept his hair short, and he was barrel-chested and as muscular as any of the new recruits that the military spit out on a regular basis. The only difference was that his hair was gray, what little of it that he kept, and the skin around his eyes was wrinkled with years of laughter. Jack Ransom was a scary SOB most of the time, but he had a good heart.
Only today, I was pretty sure that as thankful as he was that his only daughter was home for the holiday, albeit with my ornery older half-sisters, he was not going to find my confession one bit humorous. I honestly had never been as scared in my life as I was to tell him about the miscarriage…and Trace. He was going to be so disappointed in me, and I wasn’t used to being anything but the model daughter. He expected perfect, and I excelled at perfection.
But I’d finally made a mistake…and I had to own up to it.
I decided to detonate the truth bomb before everyone started eating…just to avoid any possible choking. My ass had barely hit the seat before my mouth fell open.
“I have something to tell you, Daddy. But promise you won’t be mad.”
He sat down slowly in his chair, his gaze raking over Marlow and Willow as he took his seat. “You know that’s not a promise I can make, Harlow.” He eyed my sisters again. “Is that why these two troublemakers are here?” He tried to say it with a threatening growl, but no matter how much my dad teased my sisters, he loved them like his own.
“No.” My gaze lingered on the tabletop. Just say it. Rip it off like a Band-Aid. “I had a miscarriage,” I blurted.
The silence that followed was so complete I thought I’d gone deaf.
“Like…with a baby?” Marlow squeaked.
I gave her a strange look. “No, with a goat.” I rolled my eyes…and then held my breath as I risked a glance to the other side of the table where my father sat. He was staring at me as if he’d never met me before.
“You were pregnant? How did that happen?” Marlow asked loudly, oblivious to the fact that Jack Ransom still hadn’t said a word.
“Come on, Marlow,” Willow said, exasperated. “You took sex ed in the fifth grade like the rest of us. Plus I’m pretty sure I’ve walked in on you practicing making your own baby with a number of losers.”
It was Marlow’s turn to roll her eyes. “I know how it happens. I meant how did it happen to perfect Harlow? I thought I’d be the first one to get accidentally pregnant.” She threw her hands into the air, like she’d given up trying to figure out how the universe worked.
“Me too,” I muttered.
“I mean, you’re always getting on my back about safe sex,” she complained. “Meanwhile you were the one who had a one-night stand in Vegas with a stranger!”
“Vegas?” My dad asked, his growl real. “You got pregnant from a one-night stand in Vegas?”
“It didn’t happen in Vegas,” I countered, shaking my head. I should have known better than to do this with Marlow around. “And besides,” I added. “I was being safe! We used protection.” My glance found my dad again, and I lowered my voice. “I guess I was just the unlucky small percent that gets pregnant even with a condom.” I paused. “And then I miscarried…and I have no idea how to feel. I feel relieved, and embarrassed, and…sad.”
I bit my bottom lip and looked at my sisters before meeting my father’s gaze again, my stomach rolling with dread. “Say something, Daddy,” I pleaded.
He took a deep breath and then let it out. “Why did you say you were unlucky?”
I tilted my head and frowned, confused about his question.
“Just because the situation was unexpected,” he said, “that doesn’t necessarily mean it was unlucky.” He looked around the table at all of us. “None of you were planned. None of you were expected. But I think we can all agree that it’s lucky you were born.” He met my gaze again. “You three were the best Nicole Mercer had to offer. And I feel pretty lucky to have you at my table whether you were planned or not.”
My eyes watered as I looked at him, my heart overflowing with relief and love and…hope. I noticed Marlow and Willow were blinking tears from their eyes, too. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He gave me a curt nod. “I’m sorry about the miscarriage. I wish you’d told me so I could’ve been there for you.” He reached across the table to hold my hand. I hadn’t expected him to take the news so well. He’d always been supportive, but I’d never made a mistake this big before. His unconditional love for me was niggling its way into my composure, driving hot tears to the back of my eyes. I’d prepared myself for his disappointment, not his heartfelt distress. “It was fine,” I said, looking down at my hands. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Silence followed, and I looked up to meet his worried gaze.
“I will be.”
“All right.” He reached for the platter of turkey and started to serve himself with a slight nod. “We can discuss this Vegas incident over dessert.” Without lifting his head, he glanced up at me from underneath his eyebrows and I knew that even though I was still going to get an ass-chewing because of my bad decisions, he would always be on my side.
He was right. I was a lucky girl.
***
When it was time to head to the airport Sunday morning, I felt the panic rising. I no longer had a plan I was sure of. For the first time since starting college, I entertained the idea of not going back to Maryland.
“You’re not giving up,” my dad said, engulfing me in a hug.
I looked up at him, feeling very much like a child again. “What do you mean?”
He squeezed me tighter. “I can tell the difference in your hug. This is the same hug you gave me the day you started middle school. You were scared, and you wanted to stay home where I could protect you. Do you remember what I told you that morning?”
I nodded but didn’t pull back to look him in the eye. “You told me that I had an amazing future ahead of me and that I wouldn’t get to live it if I didn’t go out and chase it down,” I mumbled against his chest.
He rubbed my back with his big hand. “That’s right. And it’s the same today as it was back then. You’re not going to find that amazing future if you come running back home. I love having you here, but I’ve never allowed myself to hold you back, and I won’t let you do it to yourself either.” He released me, and held me by the shoulders. “Yes, the past few weeks haven’t been easy. But you have to finish what you started. Get your degree.”
“Everything that’s happened lately…I’m not sure I know what I want anymore. I’ve realized that maybe I don’t have what it takes to be the next Oprah,” I admitted,
voicing my fear.
“Oprah? Who wants you to be Oprah? I never wanted you to be anything but Harlow,” my dad said, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. “As long as you do that, you’ll be fine. Show me you know how to finish strong.”
“But what if I never become a big shot journalist? What if I’m nothing but a big disappointment?” I asked.
My dad chuckled. “I don’t care if you’re a journalist or an ice cream scooper, as long as you’re happy.”
I melted into another one of his bear hugs.
“So when do I get to meet this guy who knocked up my daughter?” he asked, his voice almost threatening. When he’d asked who the father was, Willow was only too happy to show him a picture on her phone. Of course, it was the one of Trace in the Got Milk ad. My dad’s face had creased in displeasure, but he remained silent. I ended the conversation by telling them that Trace had been away at training for several weeks and that we’d had a fight.
“I…uh…” I scrunched up my nose. “We’re not together anymore.”
My father frowned, and for the first time he looked truly disappointed. “And I still don’t understand why. You never gave a good reason.”
“We weren’t right for each other.” My dad narrowed his eyes, and I knew he didn’t believe me. I wasn’t sure I believed me anymore. “Loving him wasn’t worth the risk. We made too many mistakes together.”
“Love is always worth the risk.” He crossed his arms.
“Not always. Look at mom. You loved her, and she left.”
My dad smiled sadly. “Loving her was especially worth the risk.” He put his hands on my shoulders and bent down so we were looking eye to eye. “Because I got you.”
He gently touched my cheek, and I had to blink rapidly to keep from crying. How did he know the perfect thing to say?
“Do you love him?” he asked. “Do you love Trace?”
Enough to let him go, I thought.
“I don’t think I’m brave enough to love him. I think we’d only destroy each other.” I grabbed the handle of my carry-on and turned toward the door where Marlow was waiting for me. “He has his snowboarding, and I have…I have no idea what I want.”
Hitched (Hearts of Stone Book 2) Page 27