Page 9
Story: True Dreams (True Men #2)
“No need to get angry.” John Nelson relaxed in the chair, tucking the note into his pocket. “She knew about the finals, and you didn’t. Simple crossing of paths. Heck, you just got here.”
“ Show up if you can. Oh, I’ll show up, because I’m back in Kit’s life, whether F.
Quinn thinks it’s a good thing or not. And I’ll make it a good thing or die trying.
” Campbell yanked his sweatshirt back on as he crossed the hallway, figuring he could be at the field in fifteen minutes, tops.
As if he needed directions to that goddamn place.
“Course you will, son,” John Nelson called.
Of course, it had to be baseball, he thought, taking the veranda steps at a run.
He hadn’t set foot on Howard Field since the day he broke two bones in his right hand, bashing his Louisville Slugger against the side of the towering oak behind the third base line, his father and a dozen college recruiters looking on in shocked silence.
Campbell threw his car into gear and roared down the oak-lined drive without a backward glance. Truly, he might lose it if he looked back and saw John Nelson standing there, grinning like Campbell had taken the bait and his advice in one gulp.
His grandfather, he could handle.
But Fontana Quinn?
Campbell’s hands clenched around the wheel. After their last encounter, he wasn’t about to be blindsided this time. He could overlook those sleek legs of hers. Those troubling—and slightly troubled—cobalt eyes. This was business. Family business. His and his alone to deal with .
Somewhat comforted to have a plan in place, he jabbed the volume button until the speakers blared Nirvana at ear-splitting levels. He’d save Billie Holiday for the return trip, because every boy needed an introduction to Lady Day. The earlier, the better.
The shattered pieces of his life were coming together, and he’d be damned if he let another woman stand in his way. For the first time in a long time, in forever , Campbell had something worth fighting for.
FONTANA
“He’s going to cause all kinds of trouble, Jame.” Fontana wrung her hands, then shook them loose, pressing her palm flat against her stomach to still the tremors. “He plans to sell the cottage—my garden . Move Kit and John Nelson to Atlanta. And there’s not a thing I can do to stop him.”
Jaime Holworth, her best friend and fellow misfit—and, to Campbell True’s thinking, her fiancé—propped his checkered Vans on the empty bleacher seat in front of them.
He had a way of smoothing her sharp edges with his easy drawl and tender advice.
“You get more flies with honey than vinegar, darling.”
Fontana chewed on her thumbnail, a habit she’d sworn off years ago. “I realize making him angry wasn’t the wisest course of action. Nimble negotiator, I’m not. ”
“For what it’s worth, he wasn’t a complete weenie in high school.
No teasing, no shoving or pinching. None of those sophomoric tricks—like yanking your underwear to your armpits.
I wasn’t terrified of him, is what I’m trying to say.
He wasn’t the violent type, just…angry a lot.
” Jaime took a neat bite off his poppy seed bagel, all he ever ate for breakfast. “But if I had to guess what might stop him? Money. Money stops everyone.”
She gripped the edge of the cool metal seat, the chill seeping through her fingertips.
Inside, she felt just as frozen. “I barely have enough to keep my half of the landscaping business afloat, cover Hannah’s college tuition, and eat three meals a day.
Where am I supposed to find the money to buy a house?
Because Kit practically lived with me, Celia kept the rent so low it’s almost nonexistent. But now—what am I going to do?”
Jaime brushed crumbs off his knee with a dismissive flick of his hand. “I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t have a solution. My father isn’t loaded for nothing.”
“ No . No way.” She propped her chin on her hand.
On the field, Kit high-fived Neddy Dennen, then scrambled into position, a cloud of rusty-red dust rising behind him.
“No way am I going to ask you to sell yourself. If you ever decide to marry, then you can take your father’s blood money and loan me a little. ”
“Sell myself for money? Quite an appropriate description of the guidelines surrounding my inheritance. Being celibate for over a year makes it sound tempting, though.” He ironed his hand over the crisp pleat in his chinos.
“I could marry Estele, the retired drag queen in Savannah we planted the row of Leyland cypress for last spring. She seemed to like me. With enough makeup, maybe my father wouldn’t know the difference. ”
“He would definitely know the difference. Estele’s hands are the size of footballs. Besides, what she admired was your talent . You’re the best landscape architect in the state.”
Jaime propped his elbows on the bench behind him and stretched out, his posture easy and laced with amusement. It was the image he’d created for himself—like he couldn’t care less, when, in fact, he really, really cared. “Oh, if that were only true.”
“It is true, and you know it.” Fontana fidgeted with her shoelace, wrapping it around her fingers until they went numb. “I’m in the business, and I know it.”
“Then why am I here?” Jaime chewed slowly, gaze distant as he exhaled a sigh that was part frustration, part resignation.
“In this one-horse town, the lone member of the happy homosexual club, actively, and futilely, seeking love, mind you. Where, thanks to my father, everyone over the age of fifty thinks I’m a lonely divorcee, come home to mend a broken heart, and feels the need to introduce me to their unmarried daughters.
Who, in their defense, the sweethearts, don’t come right out and say, “‘ Sorry, he’d be more interested in Brother. ’”
He tilted his head back, eyes closing as he tapped his checkered shoe against the bench. “But hey, if you ever need someone to play the part of the perfect catch again, I’m your guy.”
After Kit made a sluggish throw to third, Fontana glanced back at Jaime.
They’d been connected at the hip since the day they’d met in a master gardener’s class, and he knew her better than anyone, save for her sister.
Flawlessly dressed, he played the part of the hip, young entrepreneur with ease.
Streaked blonde hair gelled and swept back from his brow, cheeks smooth of stray whiskers, and a pressed collar parted in a perfect vee.
All of this, just to lounge on a dented stretch of metal alongside a crowd of overweight parents stuffed into spandex and faded denim.
“You’ve had job offers, Jaime. Good ones. The last...where was it? Jacksonville?” A rousing cheer erupted from their section, and Fontana joined in. “I think you’re insane to stay here. Though I’d cry into my pillow for weeks if you left.”
“Let’s not talk about madness, shall we?
” He tore off a hunk of bagel and tossed it to the black lab waiting patiently beneath the bleachers.
“True, I relocated to a safe and infinitely familiar locale clearly unsuited to my lifestyle. This is what one does when their heart is broken; they run. Preston doesn’t even miss me.
While you, dear heart, have buried yourself in a nutrient-rich acre of land, creating a fanciful azalea kingdom where you hide from the world and receive frequent bee stings for your supreme sacrifice.
Every time I walk into that garden of yours, all I think is, does she ever leave? ”
“Don’t joke. I’ve put my heart and soul into it. You know how much it means to me.”
“I do.” He raised a perfectly plucked brow. “I simply don’t think it should mean everything.”
“How could it be everything? There’s Hannah and Kit, there’s you?—”
“Your adorable sister is twenty-one, Fontana. She’s primed and ready to live her own life.
You need to give her a little push and let her know you’re ready.
She’s waiting—waiting to hear she can grow up, maybe move more than fifty miles away.
That you’ll be okay. As for me”—he winced at the sharp crack from the field, a healthy pop right over the pitcher’s head—“you allowed me to enter your intensely cloistered circle because our relationship is purely platonic. Also, I believe you see me much the same as the center’s neglected children, needing rescuing from the cruel world.
Truthfully, I’m as harmless to you as Promise is to me. ”
“That’s not true,” she whispered, her voice trailing off. Was it? Although she often thought of Jaime when she was volunteering at the center. So many of the children there had experienced bleak childhoods, just like he had.
Like she and Hannah had.
Jaime gestured to the empty seats surrounding them with a careless wave.
“Unless you loosen the protective reins around your heart, you’ll end up alone.
See anyone else lurking about? We’re oddities and deep down the common folk know to keep their distance.
Except your dearly devoted Henry, who should be climbing up here any minute, huffing and puffing like a jackhammer. Bless his misguided heart.”
“Jackhammers don’t huff.” She glanced over each shoulder, dropping her voice. “Is my marrying Henry your idea of giving Hannah a little push , Jame?”
“Meow.” He curled his fingers into claws and gave an exaggerated hiss. “I love it when you get sassy.”
“Drop it. I don’t need marriage, especially to a man who sparks the passion of a limp noodle in me. I have to figure out how to solve this mess on my own, same old story. I can’t depend on anyone else to do it.”
“Limp noodles.” He popped the remainder of his bagel in his mouth with a grin. “Much more interesting topic than baseball.”
She shoved her elbow into his ribs.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9 (Reading here)
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47