The Return (The Comeback Series)

by Marcie Shumway

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The Return, First Edition

  Copyright © 2018 by Marcie Shumway

  All rights reserved. Manufactured in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Disclaimer: This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. It involves strong language and sexual situations.

  Cover Design: MGBookCovers

  Photographer: Kruse Images & Photography

  Model: BT Urruela

  Editor: All About the Edits

  Interior Formatting and Design: T.E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  Keegan, you’re scaring me,” I told my older brother as I balanced my cell phone between my shoulder and my ear while opening the front door.

  I knew he was still there by the breathing on the other end of the line so, waiting patiently, I dropped my bags inside and shut the door. It was a beautiful spring afternoon and I had cranked up Miranda Lambert on the way home, singing and dancing in the seat of my SUV; the windows were partially open to let in the unseasonably warm weather. However, no sooner had I pulled into the driveway did my brother call, changing the tune of the day in seconds. Keegan usually called once a month to catch up, and it was on Sunday afternoons while I was relaxing, not on a Thursday afternoon when I was just getting home from work.

  “Avery, you need to come home,” he finally told me in a soft soothing voice.

  The tone of his voice was enough to have me falling into the closest chair with a thud. I knew when he used it and it had been years. Taking a deep breath, I slipped off my shoes and pulled my legs up to my chest, resting my cheek on my knees. A tear slipped down my face and I wiped it away before gathering up the courage to ask the dreaded question.

  “How long?”

  “We don’t have all the information yet,” he answered. “Just plan on a couple of weeks. While you’re here, we’ll figure everything out.”

  “How is he?”

  “Tired, but in good spirits. Do you want to talk to him?”

  “Not yet,” I replied, trying to hold myself together long enough to get off the phone. “I’ll be there Saturday morning.”

  We hung up moments later. I had barely moved from the chair to the couch and put my phone on the small table beside it, when I broke down. I curled up on my side in the fetal position and sobbed. Tears streamed down my face, uncontrolled, and my heart felt like it was literally breaking in my chest. Breathing came in short spurts and my stomach started to cramp.

  My father had been the foundation of our family since I was a small child. It had been him, Keegan, and myself against the world for as long as I could remember. My mother had left when I was two and my brother was five. She had found that raising two small children while my father ran his construction company was too much. There was no looking back for her.

  I’m not sure how long I laid there, but when the house started to get dark, I knew I needed to get up and find something to eat. Tonight would be the only time I would let myself fall apart. When I got back to Maine, I needed to be strong. They would need me to be strong. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was walking into, however, I had to believe everything would be okay in the long run.

  Pulling myself into a sitting position, I wiped my face with my hands and took some deep breaths. I got up and headed down the hall, hitting the light switch on the way. I needed some comfy clothes, first and foremost. I stripped down to my low-rise bikini underwear when I reached my bedroom and pulled on a pair of comfy black workout pants with a white long-sleeved t-shirt that had Grind Construction Company on the back.

  Tears stung my eyes once again when I looked at the name of my father’s company. The one he had worked so hard to build; that my brother was now running alongside him. It was a good-sized company that employed up to seventy-five people, depending on the time of year. They did both residential and commercial jobs all over the state. My father didn’t discriminate; if something needed to be done, he did it and for a fair price. The Cyr name was well-known in the New England region.

  Making my way through the small house that I rented, I went back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door to see what my options were. It was already almost eight o’clock, so I knew I shouldn’t have anything heavy. The mac and cheese I had picked up from a local diner the night before called my name, but knowing I would head to bed shortly, I opted for plain dairy-free yogurt, granola, and some fresh fruit.

  As I settled back in on the couch with my meal, I let my mind wander to the first time Keegan had used that soothing voice with me. I had been twelve and my dad had been diagnosed with testicular cancer. Big bad Dale Cyr had had no clue how to break the news to his daughter, and had enlisted his son to do the dirty work instead. It had been a tough year, between the surgery and the treatment, but he had come through it with more appreciation and ambition for life, if that was even possible. The stress and emotions had brought the three of us even closer as a family as well.

  Finishing up, I took my bowl to the kitchen sink. Once it was rinsed out, I grabbed a bottle of water and headed to my bedroom, shutting all the lights off along my way. I was emotionally strung out and I knew it wouldn’t take long to fall asleep. As I pulled my sheet and comforter down to climb into bed, my cell phone vibrated in my hand. Checking it as I plugged it into the charger, I found the message was from my brother.

  Everything will be okay. I love you.

  Those simple words meant so much. We would all be fine, as long as we were together. Crawling under the covers, I snuggled in deep and allowed myself one final cry before I put on my brave face. Hopefully, I’d be able to get some sleep.

  “What do you mean, he’s gone?” I asked.

  The words coming from the mouth of the boy in front of me didn’t make sense. I had seen him just last night. We had spent our graduation night wrapped in each other’s arms. Our group had broken camp just hours ago and had all gone home for naps. We were supposed to meet up for lunch.

  “They all left. The band. Signed on the dotted line and packed up for Nashville. I’m sorry
.”

  “I was just with them. They didn’t say anything,” I stammered, tears filling my eyes. I felt my heart breaking.

  “I’m so sorry, Ave. He’s a coward.”

  His brother was right. He was a coward. He had made love to me the night before, held me in his arms, telling me I was his everything, and had kissed me this morning like he hadn’t wanted to stop. There was no goodbye. No clue that he was even thinking about leaving.

  It was hard to breathe. As soon as the door closed to my car, the sobs I had been holding back escaped. The pain in my heart was blinding. I should have known. The band was good, really good. They had connections. He had never been one for the long haul, but how did I tell my heart that? Why hadn’t love been enough to make him stay?

  My eyes popped open, my body streaked with sweat. It never failed. The demons of my past always seemed to haunt me, never letting me forget the reason I ran from home as soon as I could. No matter how long it had been, I would always have to face my past, which was why I avoided going home. I sighed, closing my eyes again, willing myself back to sleep. Hopefully, this time, my sleep would be dreamless.

  The next morning, as I looked in the mirror, I cringed. My long chestnut hair, streaked with blonde highlights, fell in waves down my back and looked perfect. That was where it ended. I wasn’t happy with the hunter green three-quarter length sleeve shirt I had picked out to go with my charcoal dress pants, even though both melded appreciatively to my curvy size-eight frame. There was no amount of makeup that would cover my red-rimmed and puffy green eyes, or my blotchy cheeks. Everyone at work was sure to know there was something going on.

  Between the dreams that always plagued me when I was about to return home, and the real reason I was going, sleep had been elusive. I had tossed and turned. I had cried more than I had in a long time. I couldn’t live in the past. I needed to look forward and think positively, yet the face in the mirror was doing anything but.

  Shaking my head, I threw my hands up, sending my Wind and Fire bracelets jingling. I left the bathroom and made my way to the living room to grab my bags I had already packed, as well as my phone and my lightweight jacket. There’s no point in prolonging it, I thought, as I locked up and headed to my car. It was time to go to the office and face the music, regardless of what I looked like.

  I had barely made it past the receptionist, Kelly Monroe, seated under the Lane & Son Management Co. sign and into my office when my boss, Julie Lane, came in, shutting the door behind her. Her father and grandfather had started the company. I put my bags down behind my desk and pulled out my laptop. I got it turned on and fought looking up because I knew the minute I did, I would break down again. This woman had taken me under her wing from the very beginning and become more than just a superior to me.

  “What’s going on, Avery?” she asked quietly, when I finally met her brown eyes with my green ones.

  “I need to go home for a bit,” I told her, sitting down and typing my log-in information. “A couple weeks, at least.”

  “Okay, you have plenty of time,” she replied. I heard her shift and looked up when she put her hand over mine. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”

  Taking a deep breath, I filled her in on my father’s past with his cancer, and the phone call I had received from my brother the night before. When I was done, and the tears had been wiped away, we set out making a plan for while I was gone, and how we would handle things if I had to be out for an extended period of time. The best part about our business was that a lot of information was on the cloud or internet-based, so we could work from almost anywhere if need be.

  I spent the rest of the day cleaning up my workload and distributing my client list between the other two members of my department. For the next two weeks at least, I would be solely focused on my family. Packing up my laptop, in case I needed it, I looked around. My desk was spotless and shelves where my files normally sat were empty. Despite knowing that I was coming back, it almost felt like I was leaving the place I had called home for the past five years.

  “You call if you need anything,” Julie reminded me, as I walked by reception, where she was giving Kelly instructions on how to field calls in my absence.

  “I will,” I told her, my eyes filling. “Thank you again for everything.”

  When I got home, I didn’t bother to unload my work bag. It was coming with me, regardless of my intent not to work. I went straight to my bedroom when I entered the house and packed three bags’ worth of clothes and toiletries. To say I was anxious to get back to Maine was an understatement. Carrying the last bag down the stairs, I checked the clock in the living room: 6:15 pm. It was a two-hour drive. The weather was nice. To heck with it; I wasn’t waiting until morning.

  I brought all my bags out to the car and once they were loaded, I did a mental checklist. My mail was being picked up by my friend, Becky, who would also check the house. I had already placed a call to her parents, who just happened to be my landlords, letting them know what was going on. Work was all set. I had clothes, my cell phone, and the charger. Any toiletries I missed, I could grab when I got settled.

  Making one final sweep through the house, I made sure all the lights were off and that the front door was locked behind me. I crawled into my car, set my radio to the Amazon Prime Music app playing on my phone, and buckled up. Before backing out of the driveway, I took one final look at the house and, once again, had the feeling I wasn’t coming back. Shaking my head of the silliness, I left and headed home to Maine.

  “You did what?” I roared into the cab of my truck as I headed up the last long stretch of interstate, on my way to my hometown of Dewart, Maine.

  “Coop, it’s not a big deal,” Chris reasoned, his voice coming through the speakers from the handsfree system.

  “You lost my fuckin’ stuff. How the hell is that not a big deal?!” I questioned, clenching my teeth together.

  “We didn’t lose it,” my friend stated matter-of-factly. “We misplaced it.”

  “You’re pissing me off. How the hell do you misplace a U-Haul?” I hollered, thanking God that my windows were heavily tinted, so people couldn’t see me fuming, and all but talking to myself.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I heard, followed by a click, then silence. The fucker had hung up on me.

  I had left Nashville three days before, to return to Maine, with only my truck, a couple of bags, and an old guitar. My friends assured me they would finish packing the U-Haul with the rest of my stuff and send it north. I knew I should have put off the closing on the house and just done it myself.

  Running one of my hands down my face and scratching my beard, I sighed. I couldn’t stay mad at them, never could. These men had been by my side through thick and thin, since we were kids. They had become my brothers, even though I had two biological ones. I chuckled as I recalled how we had all met in detention, when we were freshmen in high school. We had become fast friends and hadn’t spent much time apart since. It was hard to believe we had graduated ten years ago, and left, without even one visit.

  Looking over my shoulder, I hit my blinker and merged into the lane that would take me to the off-ramp. It was time to take the backroads the rest of the way home. I still had another hour and a half to my trip, but now I would be able to enjoy some familiar scenery, rather than just trees and highway signs. Stretching my back, I weaved through a couple of traffic lights and finally made it to a straight line of road.

  Again, I allowed my thoughts to wander to my friends. They were the whole reason I was headed back. We had started our little country rock band, back when we were juniors. None of us had ever imagined Dark Roads would get as big as it did, as fast as it did. Chris’s uncle, Lee Hines, had signed us before the ink on our high school diplomas was even dry, and had moved us all to Nashville immediately.

  Chris Hines was our lead singer. Evan Foster played bass, while Matt Waterhouse was our steel guitarist, and I played the drums. We were a rag tag group that played country with
a rock edge, and we had taken off. I had a number of ACM and CMA awards, two of our albums had gone Gold, and we had just finished our third headlining tour. However, it had become too much for all of us.

  The girl had been a brunette with highlights and a curvy body. Just like hers had been in high school. She had been good with her mouth, I would give her that, but she wasn’t her. None of them were. Taking another swallow from the red cup in my hand, I headed toward the stage to meet the guys, with my bodyguard in tow. I felt him put his hand out to steady me a couple of times, and each time, I shrugged him off. I was fine.

  The rest of the band was waiting impatiently for me. I could tell by their faces that they weren’t impressed with the tardiness. I rolled my eyes at them and pointed my drumsticks toward the stairs to signal them to head up. The lights were dim, and I knew that meant on the stage, everything would be black, and I could already hear the crowd screaming for us.

  Sighing, I handed my cup off and started up the stairs behind the guys. My foot must have missed a step because the next thing I knew, I was faceplanting it. I lost my breath for a moment and laid there. A hand appeared, and I reached for it, only to find myself face-to-face with the leader of our band.

  “You’d better sober up quick,” he hissed. “They’re expecting a good show, and we are going to give them one.”

  I plastered a shit-eating grin on my face and gave him a shove toward the stage. They didn’t understand. I couldn’t shake her. The alcohol, the music, the women; they were supposed to help, yet they weren’t enough. My head wouldn’t forget, and my heart wouldn’t heal.

  The sound of my phone ringing broke my train of thought. I briefly glanced at it and saw that it was my mother. She had been periodically checking on me throughout the trip. Smiling, I hit the button and listened as her soothing voice filled my truck.