Homecoming Queen: A Second Chance Romance (Carlisle Cellars Book 2)

by Fabiola Francisco

  Chapter 5

  Madison

  Laughter booms around the dining room as Miles retells a story from our childhood. I wipe my eyes. My cheeks hurt from laughing all night, and it’s been a blessing.

  “So, wait…” June says, pointing at me. “You did his makeup using permanent markers?” She fails to hold in her laughter.

  “Yup. I thought it would wash off like my mom’s makeup.” I shake my head. “It wasn’t his best look.”

  “I think I have a picture somewhere,” my mom giggles.

  “Yeah, yeah, laugh it off.” Miles pretends to be annoyed. He didn’t care much when it happened, but my parents freaked out, saying it was toxic and trying to rub the marks off his eyelids, face, and lips.

  “I remember when you two snuck out of your rooms and went ‘camping’ out in the backyard. We couldn’t find you in the morning. I arrived, and your mom was panicking that you were missing,” Ms. Sullivan shakes her head.

  “I remember that,” I say. “We just wanted to sleep outside under the stars like in the Lion King. Brett wouldn’t wake up when we tried to ask him if he wanted to come with us, so we just grabbed blankets and went outside.”

  “I was terrified,” my mom shakes her head. “I was ready to call the police when your brother found you.”

  “Girls, don’t learn these things. Your aunt and uncle are bad examples of how you should behave.” Brett stares at his daughters with a stern expression, but we all laugh.

  “It sounds like fun,” Charlie looks at her dad with innocent eyes.

  “You can have fun without painting your sister’s face with permanent markers…” He cracks a smile.

  “What if she wants to be a clown for Halloween?”

  “We’ll buy face paint.”

  Charlie’s eyes widen. “Yes! We should buy that tomorrow!” She dances in her seat. All the while, Chloe’s looking at her with worry. Poor girl might end up being Charlie’s makeup tester the way Miles was for me. I laugh at the thought and take a bite of the chicken pot pie Ms. Sullivan made.

  “Tell us more things you did,” Charlie begs.

  “How about not…” Brett shakes his head, and I feel bad for him. I can’t imagine what it’s like raising the girls alone and working the way he does. My parents are a godsend when it comes to helping him, but that doesn’t dissolve the pain of losing your spouse.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing this weekend?” I ask the girls, switching topics.

  They shrug. “Grandma said we could maybe go to the movies. Daddy’s working tomorrow, right?” Charlie looks at Brett.

  “For a little bit, yeah. I’ll be back for lunch.” He smiles at his daughters, but I don’t miss their frown.

  “I’ll take you to the movies in the morning, and then your dad can meet us for lunch,” I lift a brow at Brett and give him a hard stare.

  “Yeah! That sounds fun,” Charlie cheers.

  “We have some things to do in the morning, but we can meet for lunch,” Miles says, his arm draped behind June’s chair.

  “You weren’t invited,” I deadpan.

  “Ah, I don’t need to be invited. That’s the beauty of it all… I’m always wanted.” He gives me his broad smile, one dimple appearing on his cheek.

  I roll my eyes. Miles is definitely the cocky one out of the three.

  “You know what, I can meet with the designer,” June says. “Why don’t you go to the movies, too?” She looks at Miles, then at me with a small smile and secret nod.

  I swallow thickly, remembering what she told me earlier when we left the coffee shop.

  “Are you sure?” He looks at her in wonder.

  “Positive.” Her smile widens.

  “You’re the best, Junebug.” He kisses her cheek and beams at the girls. “I’m gonna go to the movies, too!”

  Their cheers are deafening. I can’t help but feel full of happiness. I blink back tears and drink from my wineglass. Ms. Sullivan catches my eyes and smiles with a nod. I could’ve had this all along had I not had dreams about traveling the world and sharing my music. Maybe I would be married to Tate, had a baby.

  So many unknowns rush me. I can’t think about the maybes. I can only look at the truth that has become my life and figure out what step to take next—and pray it doesn’t implode in my face.

  ***

  After waking up in a panic due to a nightmare, I decide sleep isn’t necessary and sit outside with a cup of coffee, waiting for the sun to rise. It’s so peaceful, but the images of my dream continue to haunt me. They went beyond the reality of what I went through, and I know it’s my fear focusing on what else can happen if I stay in Nashville with the same label.

  Unlike others, I can thankfully say I wasn’t raped. However, feeling someone push you up to a wall against your will and stick his hand up your…

  I shiver away the memory and close my eyes, inhaling the fresh scent of pine nearby.

  Instead of trapping the tears, I allow them to fall so I can release some of the pain I’m carrying. What will happen when I go back? When I’m once again at the mercy of these people. I can’t exactly walk away… Or can I? My safety is worth going bankrupt.

  I push away thoughts that don’t help my mood and look at the sun appearing in the sky, shades of orange and pink bringing in a new day. Each day I pray I’ll wake up from the nightmare and return to my blissful life. But I’m no longer blind to the truths in this business. I’ve already woken up, but it’s just not the sugarcoated version I was hoping for.

  “Good morning.”

  I look over my shoulder and find my mom standing by the patio door, smiling and holding her own coffee mug.

  “Hey.”

  I watch as she makes her way over to me and sits on the lounge chair next to me. “Enjoying the quiet morning?”

  “Yeah, it’s so peaceful.” I go to drink my coffee and realize it’s empty. A coffee maker outside would be perfect right now.

  “It is. I often like to sit out here as well. I’m happy you’re home.” She reaches over and clasps my hand.

  “I am, too.” I nod. Leaning back on the chair and closing my eyes, I add, “I needed this.” A sigh pushes through my lips.

  “We all need to come home at times.” Her soft voice drapes over me like a fluffy blanket.

  “Yeah,” I whisper.

  My mom leans back, too. Her coffee mug rests on the ground next to her. The silence is welcome as we each take in the day before us.

  “It’s important to come to your roots every now and then, remember where you came from, what helped you get where you are now. I’d always insist we come back whenever we could while we lived in Dallas. Insisted your daddy wouldn’t lose his ties to his roots. You’re a lot like him.” She turns her head and smiles at me. “Except the red hair. It’s still a mystery where you and Miles got that gene from,” she chuckles.

  It’s always been a joke that the twins got the odd trait in our family. My mom’s hair is dirty blonde, and my dad has brown hair just like Brett’s.

  “Maybe it’s time I go back to my natural color.”

  My mom’s eyes brighten at this comment. “Your natural color is beautiful. It’s you.”

  “Yeah…” Although a change in hair color seems insignificant, for me, it means taking a step in my own direction instead of continuing on as the puppet I was trained to be. However, once I do that, it will leave me walking alone. I have to be prepared for that, prepared for the backlash, the lies, the scrutiny. Prepared to never record music again.

  “Everything okay?” My mom squints her eyes.

  “Of course,” I nod. “Just thinkin’ about home, the people, the winery. I’ve been here for almost a week, and I haven’t helped at all over there.”

  “You’ve needed to rest and reconnect with the town. You can go this week.” She nods, reassuring me.

  “Is it bad?” I whisper.

  “We’ll overcome it the same way we do everything else.” I don’t miss the s
ad lines around her eyes.

  “But at what cost?”

  “Don’t worry about that. Your dad and brothers have been working on it. The insurance will pay what they need to rebuild that part of the winery. Thankfully, they’ve been able to stick to all the orders they had committed to this year.”

  “Thank goodness,” I say.

  “That helps to keep everything running.” She nods somberly.

  “Grandmaaa!” I laugh when Charlie’s screeching voice rings from the patio.

  “They found me,” my mom whispers in a teasing voice.

  “I’ll help you.” I stand, stretching my arms over my head and grabbing both of our mugs. “First, more coffee.”

  “Yes,” my mom nods.

  Charlie and Chloe wanted to sleep over when we came up with the plan to go to the movies last night. When Charlie sees me walking with my mom, her eyes light up. Inexplicable happiness fills me. To know she loves me so much that she gets happy to see me… It means a lot.

  “Who wants pancakes?” I ask as I jog up the few steps to the patio where Charlie stands.

  “Me!” Charlie yells again, and I cringe.

  “Okay, but let’s bring the volume down a notch,” I tease and pick her up. Her laughter leaves a trail behind us as I gallop to the kitchen.

  When I set her on the counter, she brushes away her wild hair as her laughter dies down.

  “Good morning,” Ms. Sullivan says with an amused grin.

  “Good morning. I’m gonna make breakfast today.” I clap my hands. “And Charlie’s gonna help.” I look at her with a smile.

  “Yay!” She claps her hands. “Ms. Sully’s been teachin’ me to cook, right?” She looks at Ms. Sullivan with a huge smile.

  “Sure have. What do you need?” she looks at me.

  “Flour, eggs…milk,” I hold up the gallon from the fridge as I continue to call out ingredients. “Baking soda, salt,” I rack my brain for the rest of the ingredients. With a mischievous smile, I look at Charlie. “And sprinkles?” I wink.

  “Yes!”

  “What’s goin’ on here?” My dad walks into the kitchen with sleepy eyes. “I hear a lot of commotion.” He kisses my cheek and then Charlie’s.

  “I’m gonna help Aunt Maddy make pancakes.” My heart pangs hearing my nickname. It’s been so long since someone’s called me that, and the man who owned the nickname is now a stranger.

  “Sounds good. I’ll take two,” my dad calls out as he walks out with his coffee.

  “Where’s Chloe?” I ask Charlie as I start measuring flour and handing it to her so she can pour it into the bowl.

  “She’s still sleeping.” Charlie grabs the sugar next and throws it in, mixing the dry ingredients with a whisk. “She was awake in the middle of the night cryin’. I think she had a nightmare again. Grandma was with her.”

  I lift my brows and look at Ms. Sullivan. She frowns while cracking eggs, making a scramble.

  “Has she been having a lot of them?” I ask. I know how horrible it is to wake up to startling memories and images.

  “Ever since the fire,” she says quietly, staring at the bowl.

  I grab the whisk from her hand and let it rest in the bowl. Then I hug her. “It’s okay, sweetie.” I kiss the top of her head.

  The consequences of the fire are hurting the most vulnerable people in our family. Financial loss sucks, but the emotional rollercoaster the girls are going through is hard to watch.

  “You’re okay?” I ask, searching Charlie’s eyes.

  “Yeah. It was scary and I still remember it.” Of course she does; it was only a couple of months ago. It must still be vivid in their memory.

  “Okay, how about I put on music?” I take a detour on the heavy topic.

  “We can listen to your songs?” She asks instead of demanding it, so I nod. Grabbing my phone, I begin playing my latest songs.

  Charlie and I sing as Ms. Sullivan scrambles eggs. When we finish the pancake mix, I move Charlie to the other side of the counter where the stove is, and she helps me pour and flip the pancakes.

  I smile the entire time, singing songs I wrote and recorded, spending precious moments with my niece, and cooking. By the time we’re done, Chloe’s joined us in the kitchen as well as my parents.

  We eat breakfast and get ready for our movie date. Miles said he’d meet us at the movie theater, so the girls and I head that way shortly after.

  “Aunt Maddy, which is your favorite song?” Charlie asks as I drive.

  I think back to all the songs I’ve recorded in the past seven years and those I wrote before I ever left for Nashville. Without a doubt, I know my answer.

  “It’s called ‘Always You,’” I tell her. “I never recorded it, though. I wrote it a long time ago before I became famous.”

  “Will you sing it for us?” Chloe asks.

  “Of course. When we get home, I will. So that I can use my guitar.”

  “Can we play the guitar?” Chloe speaks again.

  “I’ll teach y’all. Mine might be a little big for you, but you can still try it.”

  This satisfies them because they remain quiet, softly singing along to some of the songs on the radio. I watch the town as we make our way to the movies. People are out and about, stores open, and friends and families gathering around on the sidewalk. Fall is the perfect season to be outdoors since the summers are scorching in Texas.

  When I park in front of the movie theater, my phone pings. I grab it and check the notification before getting out. My face pales when I read the headline in my alert.

  Rose Carlisle—Country Music’s Runaway Queen

  I read a few more lines, heart in my throat.

  It seems as Rose Carlisle, one of Nashville’s most loved singers, has skipped town along with her responsibilities. When asked, her manager said she was resting after the tour, but fans are angry that they went to Riot, Nashville’s live music bar, to watch her perform, and she was a no-show. Something is amiss with Carlisle’s disappearing act since no one has claimed to see her around town since she returned from her tour.

  This is a developing story. Like always, we’ll share the tea once we get our fill. Stay tuned…

  Fuck. I clench my jaw, squeezing my phone in my grip.

  “Are we gonna go?” Charlie’s question brings me back to the present.

  “Oh, sorry, girls. I was just reading something. Yeah, I’ll unbuckle you.”

  I make my way to either side of them, holding their hands tightly. I find Miles standing at the entrance, holding tickets. His eyes are narrowed on me, but he doesn’t say anything. It could just be my nerves that imagined his suspicion because he acts normal when the girls run to him.

  But when we walk toward the theater, he leans in and whispers, “Didn’t you tell me a few months ago that you lost your phone when I couldn’t get a hold of you?” He eyes me out of the corner of his eye and then at the phone in my hand.

  A few months ago, after what happened, my brother kept trying to get a hold of me, but I wasn’t ready to talk. I knew he’d realize something was wrong. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that we spoke, and I made up the lie that I’d lost my phone.

  “Yeah…” I hold my breath.

  I thought he would’ve forgotten about that or dropped it after seeing me in person. “Then why isn’t the phone in your hand a new one?”

  Busted.

  Chapter 6

  Tate

  I shouldn’t have opened that article when it popped up on my phone screen. I knew it’d mess with my head, and the last thing I need is to be thinking about Madison Carlisle. But I’m a glutton for punishment, needing a dose of pain, and knowing she’s back in town amps that up. As soon as I read the short article saying she’s skipped some events, something inside of me twisted.

  That’s not true. Seeing her again after so many years twisted me and I haven’t come undone from that feeling since. Of course, I see her the day I’m out on a date, trying to move on like I’ve bee
n doing for seven fucking years.

  “Hey,” my best friend and co-worker, Rafael, sits beside me.

  He looks over my shoulder at my phone. “Aw, brother, don’t go down that hole…” He shakes his head.

  “I’m not.” I turn off the screen. “Stupid shit popped up.”

  “I get it… She’s back in town, and you’re getting all these feelings again.”

  Rafael and I have been friends since we were kids, went to school together, trained to become firefighters together, and even got hired at the same time. He’s been around to witness the good and the bad.

  “I know Madison was your person. You always thought you’d get married and live happily ever after, but life’s not a fairytale.” He shrugs indifferently.

  “Is this your version of a pep talk? Because it sucks dick.” I side-eye him.

  “I’d rather suck pussy.” He chuckles and stands, stretching his arms over his head. We had a long night working after a bad accident, and we’re all exhausted. I’m sure that’s why I even opened the damn article that was taunting me. Yeah, I’ll blame lack of sleep. In a few hours, I’ll be able to go home, rest, and forget about her.

  “Just tellin’ it like it is.” Rafael is the antonym of love. He believes relationships will fail at every turn, no matter how much two people love each other. I blame that on his parents’ nasty split when he was a kid.

  “Well, don’t worry. I ain’t pining over her.”

  He laughs dryly and slaps my back. “You’ve been pining over her since you were fourteen.”

  I punch his shoulder and stand, leaving my phone on the table next to me. I don’t need Madison Carlisle clouding my thoughts. Or should I say, Rose Carlisle. It’s like she’s forgotten everything about who she is and turned into some fake version of herself—starting with that damn blonde hair.

  By the time I get home, I’m ready to face-plant on my bed and not wake up for the twenty-four hours I just worked. Instead, I take a shower and become too anxious to actually sleep. I push my hands through my hair in frustration and shove my feet into a pair of sneakers. I’ll use up this energy and be ready to crash after.