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“Let me just put you in touch with the reporter. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. Just see what he says.”
“No.”
“He can pay you ten thousand in cash for the right story.”
“No,” I repeat acidly. “And don’t bring this up to me again. This is a line I’m drawing in the sand, and it’s not going to be crossed. Do you understand?”
“Stevie… please.”
“Do you understand?” I bark at her.
“Yes, okay, fine,” she snaps back at me. “I thought you cared for me. I thought you wanted to help and—”
“Don’t pull that shit on me. You’ve got no right. Now I’m hanging up and—”
“Okay, wait, Stevie,” my mom exclaims. “I’m sorry. I’m desperate here, and while I don’t regret putting this option before you, I understand why you’re saying no. I get it… truly.”
“It was despicable.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I don’t want to do anything to cause a rift with you and Hendrix. That wasn’t my intention. I’m just grasping at straws.”
“Please don’t ask that of me again, Mom.”
“I won’t. I promise, and I’m so grateful that you’d even try to help me at all.”
When we hang up, my bitter feelings aren’t resolved. I can’t believe she’d try to guilt me into helping her at the expense of ruining my relationship with Hendrix.
It’s so fucking selfish, and the way I feel right now, I truly don’t care if my mom stays in my life. I can’t continue to try to have a relationship with someone who doesn’t always want the best for me.
There’s only one thing I can do at this point, and I need to get these nasty feelings out on paper before they eat me up. I grab my journal and flip to the next page.
CHAPTER 14
Hendrix
I pull open the glass door to Jerry’s, stepping to the side so my Aunt Rory can precede me in. She made an impromptu trip today, at my request. I want her to meet Stevie, and it’s as simple as that.
I obviously want my parents to meet Stevie, but their jobs aren’t as flexible as Rory’s. Because she’s self-employed as a writer, she can pretty much pick up and move about whenever she wants. A three-and-a-half-hour drive to Pittsburgh is nothing for her.
Of course, I told her about Stevie the day after our first date—which also included a recap of how I broke up with Tracy. Rory is beyond thrilled. It’s not just because she can tell I really dig Stevie, but she loves the fact she owns a bar and was named after Stevie Nicks. She said it’s “cosmic shit that can’t be ignored,” but I just laughed. Rory is ever the hippie, and I adore her for it.
“This place is fabulous,” she says as she unbuttons her coat, looking around the bar. As usual, it’s mostly bikers, tradesmen, and blue-collar folks. You’re not going to find doctors, lawyers, or accountants in this bar, but tonight, you will find some Titans hockey players.
I help her coat off her shoulders, and she drapes it over her arm. “Come on,” I say. “Stevie is setting up tables for us in the back.”
We wind through the patrons, the crowd fairly light, but it’s still early.
I see her before she sees me, standing with Harlow and Stone. A quick glance around and I notice a handful of my teammates, some with dates, some without.
As I get closer to her, Stevie’s head turns my way. Her eyes light up, and a smile breaks out on her face. I forget all about Rory trailing behind me, and I don’t think twice about Harlow, Stone, or my other buds. I certainly don’t consider that her hulking bear of a father is probably lurking around somewhere.
I stride right up to Stevie and kiss the fuck out of her. One hand to the back of her neck, the other arm around her lower back, and I lean her way back with the force of my mouth on hers.
Vaguely, I hear hooting and some catcalls. Stevie laughs into my mouth, and I let her up, noting that I very much like the sparkle in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks.
“Well, hello to you too,” she murmurs, and to my surprise, her hands curl into my shirt and she jerks me to her for another kiss.
Taking her hands in mine, I press my forehead to hers and whisper, “Any chance we can just leave and go to your place?”
“God, I wish, but it was your idea to have everyone come out tonight.”
I give a faux groan of frustration and brush my lips against hers one more time. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Stevie tilts her head. “Oh yeah?”
Dropping one of her hands, I turn us toward Rory standing there. Stevie recognizes her immediately from the photos in my house. “Oh my God… you’re Aunt Rory.”
