Finding Home (Coming Home Series Book 2)

by J. M. Adele

  “Let me know if I can help.” She smiled, evidently satisfied that she’d done enough, and went back to her books.

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Any decent human being would be checking on their friend right about eight fucking hours ago. Dakota was officially on his shit list. Was she just too wrapped up in herself or was she up to no good? He didn’t know, but he’d damn well find out.

  After downing a quick toasted sandwich, he returned to the bedroom to find Chelsea curled on her side, sobbing as she clutched her stomach. His hasty dinner turned to a block of ice in his belly, and he wished he hadn’t bothered with the goddamn food.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” His hands fluttered over her form.

  She wiped her cheeks, shaking her head. “It’s just like last time. I know it’s not the same, but the cramps … the pain. It feels the same. It’s stupid. I’m being stupid. Sorry.”

  “You’re not making any sense. If you’re in pain, I can’t give you any more medicine yet. Maybe a heat pack will help. My sisters use them for …” Oh. Some of the puzzle pieces fell into place and he shifted to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Did you get your period?”

  “Yeah.”

  Disappointment nearly barreled him over, the force of it surprising him. Scraping his fingers over his chin, his face tightened as he stared at the wall. He wasn’t set up to support a wife and child. This was a good thing. Right? He’d keep repeating it until he believed it.

  Burying his face in her neck, he dropped a kiss and rubbed a hand on her sore tummy. “I guess we won’t be needing a test.”

  “No.”

  He smoothed a palm over her hip, replaying her words. Some lose puzzle pieces still niggled at his curiosity.

  “What did you mean, about last time?”

  Dropping her lids shut, she rolled on her back and then looked at him with sad eyes. “Do you remember the witches’ circle in Salem? How we had to speak the name of our dead?”

  His head bobbed. “Yes. You said Beth.”

  She dipped her chin, her throat jumping with a swallow. “You remember. You’ve never asked me about it.”

  “I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.”

  Her eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder as she continued. “It’s hard for me to talk about her. She was my friend. I did her wrong, Grey. I was so stupid and I wasn’t there for her when she needed me.”

  Her face caved in, her hands flying up to provide a screen for her pain and a moment to pull herself together.

  “Before Mama moved us to ‘Bama, Beth and I were inseparable. We used to get in trouble together. We were the party girls, getting drunk and missing curfew. Mama grounded me all the time, but I’d sneak out and carry on. I was angry. Mainly at my father for preferring that I’d never been born. Mama was the best mother I could have asked for, but I’d see other girls with their daddies and I’d get spittin’ mad.”

  She grunted, rubbing her tummy as she pulled her body up to sit.

  “Beth had her own troubles. Her daddy was a mean drunk. He beat on her mama. Beth wanted to run away. I think she looked for any opportunity to get away, and Lewis Mitchell was the guy who offered an escape. He was a senior. His family owned a car dealership in town.”

  Folding her arms around her legs, she tucked her face into her knees, falling silent for a few moments. Grey resisted reaching out for her, as he watched her shoulders shake and heard her sniffles. He moved to his side, resting an elbow on the bed, and his head on his palm.

  She continued, her voice muffled as she spoke into her knees. “We went to a field party on the Mitchell’s land. I lost track of how many beers I’d had, and ended up foolin’ around with Lewis’ friend in the back of his truck. I was just learning about boys, and I liked him. It went a bit further than I had anticipated. I don’t remember much, but I know I only did it to try and please him. When I got back to the party, Beth had disappeared. Lewis told me she took off with some other guy. But, she never made it home. Two days later, they found her floating face down in the Mitchell’s water hole. A few weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant. I never told Lewis’ friend because he wouldn’t even look at me, let alone speak to me.”

  Her blotchy, red face rose to meet his, and his heart shattered in his chest. Some fucking asshole had used her and gotten her pregnant. Same as what happened to her mother. Those motherfuckers should be shot. Now he got why she’d thrown up so many walls. The sassy, self-sufficient woman was only protecting the wounded girl hiding inside.

  A small part of him struggled with knowing she’d been pregnant with another man’s baby, his possessive side rearing its ugly head. He batted it down, wanting to gather her in his arms and reassure her that he was going to look after her now. That as long as blood pumped through his veins, he would do everything in his power to keep her happy and safe. She’d never need to question whether she was worthy or wanted ... ever again.

  He circled her ankle in his tender grip. “You lost the baby?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want the baby, but I would’ve loved it because it was a part of me. I thought the miscarriage was my punishment for not looking out for my friend. She died because of me.”

  “No, Chelsea. That’s not true. You were both in too deep. If you were responsible for her, then she was responsible for you too. You were lucky you didn’t end up dead.”

  “The police said it was an accident. That she went for a swim, but was too drunk and drowned. I always suspected that Lewis had something to do with it. I didn’t trust him, and I left her alone with him. So fucking stupid. I will never abandon a friend like that ever again, especially if they’ve been drinking.”

  “Why did you invite me to the diner after we’d just met?”

  “I guess I was hell bent on proving my theory that I could enjoy the attentions of a man without needing any attachment. It sounds stupid, but I was fortifying the walls of my heart by keeping things superficial and on my terms. I think we’ve established that I have daddy issues. You were passing through. I knew it would be nothing more than a bit of fun. And I couldn’t keep my eyes off your ass in those jeans.” Her mouth trembled in a weak attempt at a smile before she sniffled again. “You blew my theory to hell.”

  He crawled up to sit beside her, enveloping her in his arms. “Come here, sweetheart.”

  She scurried over, and tucked herself into his chest, where his heart drummed a steady rhythm, all for her. He threaded his fingers into the mess of gold strands spilling down her back, loosening the knots from her fitful sleep. There was no doubt in his mind that she was the most precious thing he’d ever held. He’d moved across the country to follow his heart and he’d found it, not in the kitchen, but at this woman’s feet. He could cook wherever, whenever. He’d never find home anywhere but with her.

  Who the Fuck is She?

  Chelsea ducked into Matteo’s office, avoiding a collision with Albert as he hustled his way to the mixers with a huge bag of flour. Her boss had called her in early for a discussion. He’d better not be thinking of railing on her for calling in sick. Four years she had worked for him, and she’d always shown up on time.

  “Chelsea. Good to see you’re feeling better. Have a seat.”

  She dropped her butt on the bench and reigned in the glare she had prepared for him. “What’s this all about? I thought I was in trouble.”

  “Greyson assured me that you were unfit for duty. I wanted to talk to you about the function center.”

  “Have you found someone to take over as Project Coordinator yet? We’re running out of time, Matteo. You know I’ll be graduating next month. I’ll need a bit of time to do a thorough handover. The contractors are due to start in July. I know it’s not ideal, since we’re heading into peak tourist season and all. But if things go well, we should be ready for Christmas. Thanksgiving, if we’re lucky. This must go as smoothly as possible. Ooh …” She jabbed a finger in the air, as if pinning the idea that just rushed into her head. “You s
hould host a Christmas Gala as the grand opening. Make it a fundraiser, and get all your corporate contacts to buy a table, and spread the word. We could deck the place out to look like the North Pole threw up in there and—”

  “If you’d give your mouth a rest for two seconds, I’ll tell you what the plan is.”

  “Okay.” She pinched her lips shut and clasped her hands on her lap, bouncing in her seat.

  She could do as she was told. When she had to.

  “I want you to continue doing the job as coordinator, and I’d like to promote you to the position of Events Manager for the function center. It needs a better name. That’s your first task as manager.”

  Her eyebrows headed for her hairline as her mouth popped open. The offer wiped her brain clean. She was not expecting that. At all. Matteo leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands as he trapped her in his stare, and waited.

  “Do I get to think about it?”

  “Do you really need to?”

  Chelsea huffed. “Yes, Matteo. That is a huge detour from the path I had mapped out.”

  Resting his clasped hands on the desk, his shoulders bunched as he tilted forward. “I was under the impression that you had changed your plans about returning home.”

  “Please, tell me you’re not offering me this position because I’m dating your nephew.”

  “Not at all. I never wanted you to leave. I think it would be a huge loss for my business, especially now that we’re expanding into bigger things. You have the vision to make them happen.”

  “Oh, well, thanks. It’s nice to be appreciated.”

  “So, you’ll take the offer?”

  Of course, she’d take the offer. Who was she kidding? The only thing holding her back at this point was the promise she’d made to her mama. But maybe she could organize things from Boston and fly back regularly. Yeah ... That’s what business people did, right? She could stuff down the cake and keep the plate full at the same time. It could be done. She just needed to break the news to her mama before accepting.

  “Can I have a few days to think about it?”

  “You have until tomorrow.”

  “Jeez, Matteo, you’re such a hard ass.”

  “And your mother didn’t smack yours enough. I don’t know why I let you get away with your loose tongue.”

  “Because I’m good for business. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I’ve gotta get out front, or Dane will start making Beau sweat.”

  “Tomorrow. And Chelsea, I haven’t told Greyson about the offer, but I will use him to persuade you, if I have to.”

  “Duly noted. Thanks, boss.”

  He didn’t need to use Greyson. The man had already done a stellar job of convincing her to stay with his lethal charms. His tight ass was a bonus. But his heart. That big, beautiful heart hidden under the hard exterior. That was what finally did her in.

  _____

  Quarter to one on a Sunday morning, and the Boston street life was just starting to wane. Laughter preceded people spilling out of nearby venues on their way to their next destination. The night air carried a slight chill and the threat of rain, but none of that could dampen the buzz of excitement under her skin. Chelsea secured the strap of her pocketbook higher on her shoulder while she flagged down a taxi. She wanted to surprise Greyson.

  Still amazed at how everything had fallen into place, she hoped Grey hadn’t influenced it in any way. She needed to know that she’d earned the position all on her own, and not by throwing her heels in the air for the boss’s son … or nephew. Did he know the results yet?

  “Chelsea.”

  Her head wrenched around, as her name was released like a curse from her father’s mouth, sending a spray of needles up her neck. Dressed impeccably in a wool suit, he managed to look down his nose while smiling like a salesman before he takes all your money.

  “What are you doing here?” She measured her words, not wanting him to know he’d set her off balance. Again.

  “Looking for you.”

  “Just reassuring yourself that your nightmares are real?” She couldn’t resist letting a smirk form on her face. After all, he was the one that’d taught her the art of the nasty barb.

  The muscle in his cheek ticked and his mouth pulled tight. He paused before gathering his composure.

  “Not at all. When I found out you’d moved out of that sleepy little backwater, I checked up on you. You’re making something of yourself. I’m impressed. Maybe you’re more like me than I thought.”

  “Christ! You’re not gonna convince me to drink the Kool-Aid.”

  “I’ll ignore your insolence since you didn’t have the benefit of proper discipline while growing up. I have a proposition for you, something that would be mutually beneficial. I have connections, Chelsea. I’ll help you rise to the top of corporate America, and you could help me. The long-lost daughter taken by her spiteful mother. I could bring you into the family fold, and you’ll help me on my way to congress.”

  She barked out a laugh, feeling anything but amused. His offer stoked the fire of hatred she’d harbored since she was old enough to remember.

  “That is priceless. It truly is. You’re assuming you know what I want and that you, of all people, are the one to give it to me. You could offer me a billion dollars to pose as your daughter, and I’d throw it in your face. And if I want to make it in the business world, I’d do much better not being associated to you. Ever.”

  “You’re passing up a huge opportunity in favor of your pride.”

  “Damn straight, my pride comes first. I’m not letting you take anything more from me.”

  “You think you’re going to be satisfied working in a little café with your mother? I don’t think so. You’re more like me than you want to admit. We’re motivated and ambitious. Natural leaders. We’re built for power.”

  “Everything that I am, I am because of my mama. Ambition is no good without heart and purpose. So, you can take your offer and shove it up your ass.”

  Spinning on her heel, she stomped off in search of a taxi, air surging in and out of flared nostrils. As riled as she was, it had been strangely cathartic, finally dumping her feelings on his head. It didn’t matter what he thought of her, or her mama. He was about as important to her as the dirt crunching under her shoes.

  “Your mother raised a slut. But then, what else would anyone expect from a whore?” From afar, his words brushed at her back, as useful as a ball of cotton thrown at a wall.

  “Thanks for sharing!” She injected as much sweetness into the dismissal as she could muster.

  The nerve of him. What a complete ass wipe. Her hands itched to scrub herself clean, but no amount of scrubbing would erase the mark he’d left on her. She shared his DNA. And that was the most damning fate she could’ve suffered.

  Admitting that she’d been just like him tangled her gut into a painful knot. She didn’t target the vulnerable ones, conning them into loving her like her father had done. She’d only been with men who were after a good time, same as she. And she hadn’t slept with all her conquests either. As soon as they hinted at wanting more, she ran. But still, it had been a cruel game. Until Greyson called her out on her bullshit, she hadn’t seen what she’d become.

  If she had to spend the rest of her life proving she was nothing like that sack of shit, she would. Money, power, they weren’t her motivation. Her mama taught her that giving people a little piece of sunshine in their day was the greatest reward in life. To make a positive difference in some small way.

  It’s what Greyson did with his cooking.

  Her heels clicked on the sidewalk as she waved down a taxi. Getting to Greyson and ending her day on a high was at the forefront of her mind.

  _____

  Rummaging through the paraphernalia in her pocketbook, she beamed a triumphant smile when she found the key to his apartment. Chelsea slipped off her shoes, holding them in her hand before she tiptoed through the door. She inclined her head when she found a dim light bathing the roo
m. As her eyes tracked their way to the table, the ground gave way under her stockinged feet, her vision tunneling and warping as she tried to make sense of the scene.

  Grey had company. A beautiful blonde with her stomach swollen in pregnancy, a diamond sparkling on her finger, and the ring box sitting between their steaming mugs as they shared a mid-night beverage. It was her future played out before her. Or what could’ve been. Because it wasn’t her sitting beside him. It was her doppelgänger.

  What the fucking fuck?

  “Chelsea.”

  She held up a hand, silencing him, as she pinned her eyes on the blonde. They were both in their pajamas. As far as she could see, Grey hadn’t gone out and bought another bed. He didn’t even have a sofa yet.

  “Nice engagement ring.”

  “Y—yes. It is.” Her twin blinked, caught under the sting of Chelsea’s gaze before she flicked her eyes to Grey.

  He pushed his chair back, starting to get up. “Chelsea, don’t—”

  “Greyson, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your damn pie hole before I smack it shut.”

  “You’re way off track.” He rose to his feet, ignoring the warning.

  “Oh, am I? Is that a ring box on the table?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And did you purchase the ring that came in that ring box?”

  His fingers dove through his hair. “Yeah, but—”

  “Alrighty, then. Have a nice life. And, hey, congrats.” She waved a finger at the obvious baby bump, before sprinting out the door and down the stairs, his shouts following her down.

  The taxi still sat at the curb, evidently on a coffee break.

  Lucky me.

  She dove in, barking the address to Jenna’s place, knowing that Hannah would be there tonight too. She needed their shoulders, and she sure as hell didn’t want to deal with Ryan. She didn’t question why Dee wasn’t on the list, she just knew who she wanted. If her mama and Angel were here, it would be the quadfecta. And, of course, Dane, as an honorary female, was included in her inner circle of powerful women. See? She had a gaggle of girls who could get her through anything. Who needed men, anyways?