Authors: J.B. Hartnett
Cole (The Leaves)
Cole
J.B. Hartnett
Copyright © 2013 J.B. Hartnett
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
The shout out!
My sister, Kendra. Thanks for the research, reading and listening to ideas… you are very, very patient. My husband, who hasn’t seen a clean house in months, but has never complained. My boys who wait patiently while mommy types and types and types, you’re the little gifts that keep on giving… LOVE YOU ALL!!
To my supportive pals a.k.a. hand-holders and ledge talking downers: Kimberly Muresan, Jennifer Hamori, Jenna Petrotta, Kelli Catanese, Jaye Pamment and Natasha Van Doren. My support team and cyber sisters, Lisa Schilling-Hintz and the Rock Stars of Romance, Coleen Ritter-Garvey (we’ll be having drinks on the Lido deck someday), Julie Richman, Karen Harper, Nancy S. Thompson (K&N I’m thinking we need to find “bumpy” and wine) and B.J. Harvey (you, me and Jenny, watch out world), Jenny Aspinall and Gitte Doherty, Jennifer Garrison-Trevino, Sandy Roman Borerro, Hetty Whitmore-Rasmussen, Elizabeth Santiago, Joanne Christenson, Kelly Findlay - without making anyone blush to the tips of their toes, you ladies have been amazing. You have all put up with my meltdowns and I’m grateful, you have no idea. Amazing friends, amazing peers, just amazing and I feel very blessed to have all of you in my life.
The panel: Jenny Currier-Walkowiak, Robin Bateman, Dawn Chic, Heather Lueschen and Jessie Soto… thanks for your advice ladies.
To all the blogs: you take a chance on unknowns and with just your words, give Indie authors a chance they would never have otherwise. A million, billion thanks to you.
Kristen Ashley, you rock!
To the readers who loved INKY – a friend asked me, “What were your goals when you started writing?” My answer was, “I wanted to rip people’s guts out, make them cry and put them back in again with hot sex and unbelievable love that wins over every other obstacle.” It sounds all very dramatic now, but I am a believer in happily ever after. I know through storytelling, I can provide that, but life is messy. I knew the topic of child abuse was going to be a hard pill for some to swallow, but I appreciate that you all stuck with it. I was inspired by the story of a dear, dear friend. Some of you shared your stories of abuse with me and not only is this humbling, it’s also a testament that you survived… just like Inky. So to all the believers in happily ever after, the survivors and everyone else that stuck with this tale despite the mammoth cliff-hanger, thank you!
http://www.rainn.org/get-help/sexual-assault-and-rape-international-resources
I knew she thought I was upset or pissed, but it was just the opposite. Actually I was kind of pissed at my mom. I love the woman, but fuckin’ a, she has this way of getting in my business and she ruined the surprise. I never intended to keep it a secret from Anika that I’d wanted to be an artist way back when. I’d had this planned for a while, pretty much since I laid eyes on her.
I walked downstairs after she had finished my portrait knowing this was it, the time was right. Maybe it was too soon, maybe I was rushing things, but I knew I had no doubts and I was positive she felt exactly the same way. She would marry me for love. She would be a partner. She wouldn’t care about the bullshit that goes with my father’s lifestyle and company. Not like my ex, Emma. Anika was real. She saw me for the man I am, not the man everyone else expected me to be.
The first time I saw her was the day I gave Emma her two million dollar settlement. I’d fallen for Emma’s game: hook, line and sinker. We went to Vegas, did the whole drive through Elvis thing, drank and gambled for three days straight and came back to my condo. She then decided the condo would never suit the little family we would be having. She told me she went off birth control and wanted to give me the family I’d always dreamed of. Lies. All lies. We put my place on the market and started looking for houses. I didn’t care about anything flashy. I had a nice car, a Range Rover, only two years old, but it wasn’t a Maserati or anything. Not that I couldn’t afford it. I could’ve asked my father for any amount of money and he would have happily given it to me, but the strings attached meant I had to step up and take my place at his company. That was something I would not, could not, do.
Walking down the beach, I wondered if Anika had made her way downstairs and found the sketch pad. I loved being able to finally share this with her. She had fallen asleep in my arms and I waited, just like I had for the other sketches I’d done of her, until I heard her breathing become slow and even. Never had I felt this calm, ever. I had carefully moved from her and gone to the bedroom, where I had hidden the large sketch pad at the back of the closet. I crept back upstairs, careful not to wake her, and drew her in a grey charcoal. This was how I always did it. I had looked around the room and was grateful I had made this into a studio for her. She’s such an incredible painter. I didn’t know anything about her when we met, but when I found out she was an artist, it made my attraction to her even stronger. God, I hoped she would say yes.
I’d been walking up the beach for at least twenty minutes. Maybe she didn’t come downstairs. Fuck. I hope I didn’t upset her or worse, cause her to have an anxiety attack. I never want to be the cause of them; I want to be the cure. I turned around, deciding to start heading back just in case.
I hoped the ring fit. I chose it because the day we met I remembered thinking her eyes were the color of a fancy diamond, a colored diamond. My father, among his other enterprises, had his big fat toe in mining. It’s actually where he made most of his money. He’s a good business man, no doubt about it, but he’s ruthless and he doesn’t care who he pisses off, pisses on, or hurts along the way. That being the main reason I wanted nothing to do with his company. Anyway, I wanted something a little different for Anika. She’s unique, a one of a kind and whatever ring she wore needed to be the same. But, if she hates it I’ll get her whatever she wants.
I just hope she says yes.
Heading back to the steps that lead up to my beach house, I started to have my own panic attack. How was I going to handle this if she said “no”? I’d deal with it, if it happened. We’d deal with it.
The wind had really started to pick up when I was hit with a memory of Emma like a ton of bricks.
“Oh, hon, the ocean breeze does terrible things to my hair. Do you really like the beach that much you’d want to see your wife with frizzy hair all the time?” She bats her lashes at me and gives me that little pouty lip look. “I know you like to surf, but that’s a hobby. You can just drive down from the house when you want to go.”
“House?” She knows I’m disappointed, but I’m not stupid. I know she’s had her eye on something.
“Oh, you can afford it. It’s completely over the top… your father will hate it.”
That should’ve been my first clue: this house? My dad would hate this place. It was set back enough from the cliffside that I didn’t have to worry about erosion washing it away when heavy rains came. It happened about ten years ago; all these people watched the foundations of their million dollar beach homes slide onto Pacific Coast Highway. This place was unfinished when I bought it. The man who previously owned it was a lawyer. He did well for himself (I researched him to find out why I was getting such a bargain). It turned out, he had lived way above his means which meant when the financial crisis hit, he had to let go of extras and this unfinished 1960’s beach house was one of those. Luckily, he had already paid to have the house retrofitted, so the surveyor assured me I wouldn’t see my home halfway down a cliff after a heavy rain.
I surfed just about every day unless the conditions were too stormy or the water was more polluted than usual. Rain or shine, I didn’t care. If it was cold I wore a wet-suit, but the crisp water cleared my head almost as much as sex with my beautiful woman upstairs.
I waited long enough. She must have been flipping out or something to not come and find me.
“Anika?”
Where the hell was she? The house felt empty as my heart jumped inside my chest. I was so sure she would say yes, but whatever she decided, what’s done is done. Now she knows my intentions, though I never kept it a secret I wanted to marry her. I walked through the entire living and dining area, there was no sign of her.
She wouldn’t have bolted. She wouldn’t have. I bet she called Aimes. I swear that girl is going to kill her best friend for not staying here and talking to me. Lucky for me, I had her number.
I shut the sliding door that led to the deck from the living room and went to the kitchen, grabbed my phone and dialed Aimes. I wanted to call her Amelia because it was her actual name, but these girls are all about their nicknames, so I never pushed it.
“Aimes, it’s Cole.”
“Hello lover boy. Did you give it to her yet?”
“What do you mean? Didn’t she tell you?” I couldn’t believe Anika had not called Aimes to discuss my proposal with her; those two seemed to confer about everything.
“No. I haven’t seen her since we had lunch at your place… unless she didn’t want to tell me because I’d just told her all my big news.” Women. Jesus.
“Yeah, I’m so sorry Aimes, of course congratulations. Listen if you hear from her, tell her to come back. I left it for her to find and I assume she’s just trying to wrap her head around the whole idea. I’ll try her phone.”
“Well, give us a call and let us know. Or just tell that drama queen to call me when you find her.”
“Are you sure you want me to use those words?” I laughed.
“Yes. She knows I love her.”
“Will do, Aimes. Tell Gus hello.”
“Bye.” We hung up and I decided to go upstairs and confirm my suspicions that I had, in fact scared the hell out of my girlfriend. I should have looked there first – stupid. Her ex proposed to her during a meteor shower and even though they didn’t work out, he really set the bar as far as marriage proposals go. “Anika?” I looked around the room and in the bathroom. Her purse was on the floor so she didn’t go far, thank God. Shit. Maybe she’s been upstairs this entire time, waiting for me? “Anika, are you up here?”
Nope.
Where the fuck was she? I decide to call her. Yeah, I should have probably just let her have some time to think, but I needed to hear her voice at least. I needed to know she was okay.
Then I heard her phone ring.
Bon Jovi’s
You Give Love a Bad Name
echoed through the room around me. Ha. She still hadn’t changed that ring tone. I told her I didn’t want to give love a bad name, I wanted to give it a good name. As I pondered this, the fact that her phone was here, in the room, registered. You give love, a bad name. Her phone was here and the song was playing from her bag. I looked over to the bed and the ring was gone, so obviously she was wearing it or at least had it with her. Probably mulling it over, so she couldn’t have gone too far. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to call Aimes back.
“You didn’t hear from her, did you?” I asked. Noticing the slight panic in my voice, maybe she wasn’t mulling it over.
“Nope.” She answered with, what I detected as, hilarity in her tone. “Dude, what the hell did you say to her Cole?”
“Believe me, I didn’t say anything. I’ll let her tell you. But she actually didn’t take her phone, so she couldn’t have gone far.” I tried to assure myself.
“Call me when she gets back, so I can smack her upside the head.”
“I will. Thanks, Aimes.”
“Good luck, Cole.” She was laughing as she hung up.