Home > Claiming Her Forever : An Alpha Mountain Man Romance(2)

Claiming Her Forever : An Alpha Mountain Man Romance(2)
Author: Alexis Winter

The rooms look spacious but quaint. As I scroll through again, I notice that the bathroom mirror caught a reflection of the person taking the photo. I can see a man from mid-chest down standing off to the side. He’s dressed in black jeans and a flannel shirt that has the sleeves rolled up—showing one muscular forearm. I wish I could see more of him, I think to myself as I pinch the image to zoom in.

Gen’s words from the last year of my life echo in my head: “You need to stop neglecting the lady downstairs and get laid!” I always brushed off the idea, reminding her that I didn’t have time or energy for anyone else in my life.

In truth, getting laid, or any sort of romantic feelings or inclinations, have been so far removed from my brain for the last six years that I’ll be surprised if I ever learn to ride that bike again. Not that I ever really, fully rode that bike.

I’d messed around with my college boyfriends but have yet to go all the way. No one knows that little fact. It’s not like I’ve run around shouting from the rooftops that I’m a 27-year-old virgin. Once in a while, I’d let myself fantasize about finding the one and having a few kids of my own, but then guilt would creep in and I’d shove those thoughts aside.

It was like I’d convinced myself I was betraying my mother by wishing for a different life. In truth, that’s one of the things my mom always talked about since her diagnosis: hoping I’d find someone to love me and give me my own family.

I close the laptop, pour myself a hefty glass of wine, and settle back into the couch. I mentally count down the days till I can pack up what life I have left and get the hell out of here. Tomorrow I’ll start selling off most of my possessions and working with a realtor to list the house.

 

 

One

 

 

Quinn

 

 

Present Day . . .

 

 

I blink back the tears that threaten to trickle down my cheeks as I look around the small two-bedroom house that had been my childhood home. It looks smaller somehow with everything gone. I was able to sell most of the furniture and decor on Craigslist, the new buyer requested to keep the appliances, and the rest I donated.

I lean my head against the doorframe that leads into the small kitchen, remembering all the times my mom would pull up a chair for me to stand on so I could help her cook or wash the dishes. In reality, I was probably more of a headache than a help, but my mom never once complained.

The house is modest, just over 1,100 square feet, but it was more than enough room for us and my tabby, Bella Sue, who passed away a few years ago. My mom could have afforded a bigger place, but her priority was on saving as much money as we could for my future, something I didn’t know about until she got sick and we needed the money for her endless doctors’ appointments and treatments. Between her health insurance and savings, she was able to receive home health care the last several months of her life.

“You sure about this?” Gen asks as she walks up beside me. She’s been helping me get the last of my stuff packed up in my 10-year-old Honda Civic and clean the house. “Livy is out back picking flowers—something she insisted on doing for the new owners.” She motions with her head toward the window that leads to the backyard.

“Yeah. Just reminiscing a little before I officially surrender the keys.”

“What’s on your mind?” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the other side of the doorframe.

I laugh a little. “One of my favorite stories my mom would tell me was the moment I learned to walk right here in this living room. You weren’t even born yet,” I say, bumping Gen’s shoulder.

“Mom was on the phone with Dad for probably the fifth time that month, listening to another one of his 10,000 excuses as to why he’d be a little short on child support.” The truth is, he never paid on time or even close to what the courts told him he owed, but my mom was tired of fighting him for it. “She said she was crying on the phone listening to his bullshit and feeling like once again, she’d let me down.”

Gen shakes her head and rolls her eyes, probably remembering my dad’s behavior when we were kids. She met him once or twice when he’d pop into my life, but mostly, she was there to comfort me when he’d fail to show up again.

“Looking back now, I’m sure they were tears of frustration and disappointment with how her life had turned out. I get it. But she said the moment I pulled myself up on the coffee table and took two steps toward her, everything else faded away. She hung up the phone and picked me up. She said the look of pride and happiness on my chubby little face in that moment was all that mattered. She didn’t even tell my dad before hanging up on him. When I asked her why she didn’t tell him, said she didn’t want to share that moment with anyone but me. It was our precious moment that nobody else could take from us.” I try to hold back a tear, but it escapes and starts trickling down my cheek.

“Your dad was basically a sperm donor who made his deposit and showed up a few times a year to meet the bare minimum requirements for not being a complete deadbeat piece of shit,” Gen replies, causing me to giggle through the tears. “And he ended up being a deadbeat piece of shit anyway.”

“That’s for damn sure. Mom said it was sexy and rebellious that he was a musician when they first met. He was part of the counterculture that was sticking it to the man, as he liked to say, so he didn’t get stressed and bogged down by things like 9-to-5 jobs or securing health insurance—things adults should care about. She was blinded by love, but the moment she found out she was pregnant, their happily ever after went out the window.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that kind of shitty disappointment, Quinn. I wish so badly you could’ve had a dad like mine,” Gen says, wrapping her arms around me.

“Your dad is amazing and he always went above and beyond to make sure I felt accepted and like I was his second daughter,” I reply.

“So what was it that finally made your mom leave him? I know it was before I was born, but I don’t think I ever asked you or her that. Felt a little personal.”

“Well, it was after he gave her chlamydia for the third time that she officially kicked him out,” I say, shaking my head and letting out a long sigh.

“Jesus, his shittiness truly knows no bounds. I swear, if I ever see that cocksucker around town, I’m going to kick him right in the balls as hard as I can, and when he’s crying on the ground, I’ll snap a pic and send it to you.” We both burst out laughing. Leave it to Gen to bring violence into the situation.

“Okay, I’m going to take Livy to my parents for their weekly Scrabble tournament and let you have a moment here to say goodbye. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I take one last glance around the house before letting out the breath I’d been holding. I shut the door and lock it, making my way toward my packed car. I had the pleasure of spending the last 27 years in this little Idaho house, and now it’s time for a new family to make their own memories here.

 

 

After a million hugs and assurances of “I promise to call,” I head out on the 12-hour drive to Grand Lake, Colorado. Gen tried multiple times to convince me to stay in Meridian, Idaho, but I told her it was something I needed to do, and it was just for three months. What I didn’t tell her, or anyone, is that I really don’t have any intentions of moving back here . . . ever. I’ll happily come visit, but it’s time for my own adventures. I feel a little like Belle in Beauty and the Beast searching for that “great wide somewhere.”

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