The Muse and the Fairy Tale (New Hampshire Bears #1) (19 page)

“She did talk to me last night,” I revealed.

“We know,” they all said in unison.

“Okay.” I guess Meadow told the girls, who in turn, told the guys.

“Now, what you need to do is give her a couple of days, and then go stake yourself on her porch and don’t leave until you two have talked it all out,” Harlow told me.

“What if she never talks to me?” I countered.

“In Meadow’s fairy tale mind, her Prince Charming would wait there forever,” Maxima said, almost sadly.

She was right. It was something I’d already wanted to do, but was too chicken shit to do it the entire night. Now, I wouldn’t leave until she talked to me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Meadow

I sat in an overstuffed chair, in a sparsely decorated office. Caryn Hammonds had red hair and big brown eyes. She seemed to be polite and kind, but too young to understand the issues going on in my life right now.

Or so I thought, as I patted the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m thirty-five, I shouldn’t be crying over something that happened thirteen and twenty-five years ago.”

Caryn’s small smile was a bit sad. “Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Sometimes, the cut is too deep and leaves a scar. But I want to start with your mother. You found her, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“What happened?”

“I came home on the weekends to check on her. It was a late Friday night because I had been working on a large project.” I stopped to dry my eyes. It was as if they were turning into waterfalls. “I knew the second I saw her in the bed, she was gone.”

“What did you do?”

“I stood there.” I remembered her black sweatpants, white t-shirt, and her ugly red footie slippers. I hated those damn slippers, but she wore them all the damn time.

“How did you feel?”

“Relieved.” I popped the word out without meaning to. “I’m sorry; I meant to say sad.”

“No.” Caryn leaned forward. “Go back to what you first said. You said relieved.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“But, you did; I heard you. Why did you say it?” she pushed.

I couldn’t tell her the truth. I was already the scum of the Earth by just thinking it. No child should be happy their parent killed themselves.

“Meadow, why? You can tell me. It might even be easier if you told me.”

I turned my head away from her. I couldn’t look at another human being in the eyes when I tell her my true feelings. “I was relieved,” I whispered.

“Why?”

“So I wouldn’t have to constantly worry about her. So I wouldn’t have to pick her up off the floor in a pool of vomit, stinking of body odor because she couldn’t remember to shower.” I hiccupped and sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“Meadow,” Caryn’s tone softened, but it was firm. “Don’t apologize for your feelings. Let me give you a piece of advice and small story.”

I turned back to face her. “Okay.”

“My mother died of breast cancer when I was twelve. My best friend and I started out as pen pals around the same time, and he gave me the best advice. You’re not relieved because she’s dead. She’s your mom, and you never wanted anything to happen to her. But you are relieved because she’s at peace now.”

I let Caryn’s words sink in. Sure, I hated everything I’d had to deal with Mom’s depression, but I would have kept doing it until the end of time. I loved her. I remembered the good times and the meager moments of laughter from her. She’d had a beautiful soul, and I know she missed Dad terribly.

“I think we’ve done enough today,” Caryn announced. “But, I do want you to make another appointment for next week.”

I nodded and shook her hand as I headed out the door. After I made the appointment, I left, headed home, but I decided to take a small detour.

I drove past Kyson’s apartment, but it wasn’t like I could see anything. He was on the eighth floor and he parked in the parking garage. I turned off the road and made my way to the cemetery. The snow made it hard for me to drive through because no one had plowed the paths.

I parked my car on the main street and tracked through the snow to my parents’ graves. I knew exactly where they were, even under all the snow. I brushed it away and thought about the last time I’d been here. A year? Two years? I couldn’t even remember.

How pathetic of me?

I was sure my life would have been completely different if my parents had lived, but did I hate my life because my parents were gone?

No.

I wasn’t the first child to lose parents. I should learn from my struggles. Right? Wasn’t that supposed to be what happened?

Hell, I didn’t know anything anymore. However, I still missed Kyson. That was the thing I was most sure of.

I laid my gloved hand on the cold gravestone and headed back to my car. Today had been a long day already.

I didn’t think I would be able to write, but I did. I had planned a book to continue with my hockey series, but something else hit me.

A new story.

The words flew from my fingers, and I didn’t think they would stop. For three straight hours, I typed up almost four thousand words of a whole new story, it wasn’t going to be hockey related, but it was going to be something some people could really relate to.

Depression.

Loss of love.

Real life.

Readers didn’t want to read about real life. They read fiction for just that…the fantasy. They didn’t want to read about bills, debt, the inability to afford food, and the loss of true love. No, they wanted a happily-ever-after fairy tale, and I wanted it too.

But not this time.

This time I was going to write for me.

And I did.

After I took the break after the first four thousand words, I ended up going back to it. I hooked up my mic and used my text-to-talk program with Puckhead on my lap purring away. Soon, another four thousand words appeared.

I didn’t want to stop, but my mouth was dry, and I’d started crying again when my main heroine buried her mother. I used the exact scene when I buried my mom.

A knock on my door was a blessing to help tear me away from the computer screen. I figured it was Harlow, but it was older man with a massive flower bouquet.

“Meadow Hylton?”

“Yes.”

“Delivery.” He handed me the vase packed full of roses. “Have a nice day.” And he was gone.

I made my way to the coffee table without tripping over Puckhead and sat the arrangement down. I fumbled for the card, and I had to sit down to read it:

My Fairy Tale,

I miss you, and I hope we can work this out.

Your Muse,

Kyson

Kyson.

Kyson sent me flowers.

Kyson missed me.

Our conversation the other night was the first time we’d spoken, in any form, since I left his apartment almost a month ago.

I missed him too.

I reached for my phone and sent him a message.

Thank you for the roses. They’re beautiful.

You’re welcome, and you’re beautiful too.

I smirked at the screen.
You’re not too hard on the eyes either.

It was easy to flirt with Kyson. It always had been. We’d had a connection even from our first conversation. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it had only been a few months since we first began to talk.

Christmas is coming. What do you want Santa to bring you?

I had almost typed ‘you’, but I stopped myself.

I don’t know. What do you want?

Easy. I want you.

He’d said it when I’d failed to say the same to him.

Do you still love me, baby? Am I still your fairy tale?

I sat my phone down and stared at my empty hands. They were shaking. The answers to the questions were ‘yes’, but I ignored him instead of telling him the truth.

Every day for the next week, a dozen roses arrived at my house, except for Sunday. Then it was an order of my favorite Chinese food. I’d never answered Kyson’s question, but he kept messaging and texting me.

It was Monday and my last signing of the year. Harlow was supposed to be my assistant for the night, but she’d said she was behind on her editing, and I knew other authors were counting on her, like I did. Maxima offered, and I took her up on it when the bookstore said they were sold out already.

Maxima was telling me about her stressful day; the end of year was fast approaching. Even though she wasn’t a CPA, she still had to get files ready for clients. I was thankful for the distraction, and she didn’t ask any questions about Kyson either.

The bookstore was full of people, and most of them were in line for me. I was shocked to see this many readers. Sure, at conventions, I saw numerous fans, but usually it was for more famous authors than I was. This time was different. I was the only one signing. Maxima pushed on my shoulder and had big smile on her face.

I nodded and began to wave, shake hands, and greet the readers. Most of them wanted to talk about the book and how much they loved it. A lot of them were drooling over Kyson and the cover. They others wanted hugs and pictures.

The signing was only supposed to be three hours, but because of the turnout, I kept singing until the last reader in line was able to get an autograph and picture. Maxima was helping me clean up my pens and empty water bottles when someone spoke up.

“Do you have time to sign one more?”

My heart stopped, and I looked up to see Kyson’s green eyes staring back at me.

What is he doing here?

“Um…”

“I think I need to use the ladies’ room.” Maxima quickly excused herself and rushed away from us.

Kyson held out my book to me. “You promised me a signed copy.”

I nodded and took the book from him.

“Nice cover.”

“Yes it is.” I opened the front of it.

“I heard the muse is an ass, though.”

I stopped before singing my name and looked up at him. “No, he isn’t an ass. He’s just young.”

“Not mature, though?” He tilted his head.

“He’s mature at times, but his youthfulness was fun.”

“Was?” He seemed hurt.

“Is,” I corrected myself.

“I want to have lunch with you. Or dinner? Or breakfast? Or brunch?” He was begging. “I miss our fairy tale. I miss you.”

“I…I…” I wanted to say yes. I wanted to leap over the table and kiss him and take him home with me. But my life was a wreck. Not because of him. In fact, I think us breaking up was what I needed to realize how much I’d been holding inside of me.

I glanced down at the book in my hands and picked up a pen.