Finding Home (Coming Home Series Book 2)

by J. M. Adele

  Clamping her mouth shut, she threw a sheepish glance at her mama who returned it with a smirk.

  “Go on, before you bleed to death and I pass out again. We’ll talk over supper. Nice to finally meet you, Greyson.”

  “You too, Mama.”

  He called her Mama.

  Greyson stretched to his full height, offering up his hand, and reserved seating for her heart and soul. Buoyant with love, she took it, happy to sign up for a lifetime.

  Her knees buckled as the force of reality hit, and his arm came around to keep her steady. She thought she’d lost him. He’d picked up his life and plonked it back in the middle of nowhere to be with her. Mouth ajar, she blinked up at him in wonder, understanding how much she stood to lose.

  Holding all the promises she wanted to make in her eyes, she hoped he’d see.

  “I found my home too.”

  “Only you, sweetheart.” He gave her a chaste kiss, aware of their audience, no doubt. It had her hankering for more.

  Reaching the truck, she waited for him to unlock the door, still afloat on some surreal dream.

  He nudged her out of her daze, helping her into the truck with a hand on her ass, his body blocking her mama’s view. “Later, sweetheart. Later.”

  Slamming her door, he hustled around to the driver’s side, making sure she was buckled in and still putting pressure on her hand.

  “Have you been practicing?”

  “Practicing what?”

  He leaned closer. “My mouthful.”

  Oh, damn. His answer tumbled out on a bed of gravel and reeking of sin. She squeezed her thighs together to relieve the ache he’d started.

  “Greyson Matteo Lucca Agrioli.” She enunciated each name, tasting how it felt in her mouth. Her pulse thundered in her chest, core clenching, injured hand forgotten.

  “Sweetheart, my name was made for your lips. You’d better get used to saying it, because I’m putting a ring on your finger as soon as I can.”

  That was one promise he’d better make good on.

  Sitting in the yard of the Murphy’s house, the last of summer’s heat clinging to their skin, Chelsea spread her wedding planner out on the wrought iron table to show Angel.

  “Can I be a flower girl?”

  Chelsea combed her fingers through Addy’s midnight tresses. “Of course, sweetie. And Sonny will be a page boy.”

  “Do I have to?” Sonny screwed up his tiny nose, pinching his mouth shut.

  Chelsea winked at Angel who grinned at his distaste over the rim of her glass of sweet tea. She didn’t think he’d go for the position, but Chelsea had to try. “Nope. You can be my special witness, if you like.”

  “Do I have to get up in front of people?”

  “No, baby. But you get a front row seat.”

  He narrowed his eyes, giving it some serious thought as he tossed a baseball up, catching it in an oversized mitt. “Okay.”

  “Do I get to sit up front?” Addy tugged on Chelsea’s arm, eager for her say.

  “You can stand next to me.”

  Addy didn’t even blink before moving on to a more pertinent question. “Who gets to drive the car with ribbons?”

  “Your granddaddy will drive me, and your granduncles will drive you and your mama.”

  “Do I get to drive?”

  Angel coughed. “Not for a long time.”

  “Aw. But granddaddy lets me sit behind the wheel of his Chevy. I even started the engine once.”

  “Well, that’s as far as it goes for now. You have to be able to see over the hood to be able to drive.”

  Addy’s little face fell. “Aww, but that’s gonna take ages.”

  Angel beamed. “Yep.”

  “But how am I gonna win races if I don’t practice?”

  Angel clanked her glass on the table, sighing. “Oh, Lord. I pray that this is just a phase. Imagine my baby racing cars. I feel like pitchin’ a conniption fit just thinkin’ about it.”

  “Dinner is ready,” Grey called out from inside the house.

  The kids dumped their baseball gear where they stood before darting off after food.

  “Those two are bottomless pits, I swear.” Angel gathered her drink and packed away the mitts, shaking her head. “I’ll see you inside.”

  “Are you coming?”

  Chelsea snapped the planner shut before Grey saw the contents, diamonds surrounding a ruby sparkling on her finger.

  “Yeah.” She smiled a wicked smile, brushing close as she passed him. “Are you?”

  His eyes lit up and he snagged her around the middle, pulling their bodies in tight. “You’re such a tease. I can’t get enough. Let’s disappear into the yard while they eat.”

  “Tempting. But I think I’ll make you suffer for a while before I have my way with you.”

  “Fuck,” he growled in her ear, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses over the jumping pulse in her neck. “Marry me.”

  Her hand slid into the back of his jeans to grab a handful of flesh. “Almost a done deal, honey. Later.”

  “Promise?”

  “I do.” She winked.

  I actually don’t know how I managed to write this book. My life turned on its head while I sat my butt down and made myself keep typing. I wrote some of it at my friends’ places and sent it to my editor while sitting in a driveway. It was meant to be shared with the world, and I was determined to get it out there.

  The list of names I need to give thanks to is growing with every book, but these ladies are my foundation and my unwavering support, so they get first mention. In alphabetical order: Belinda, Deb, Emma, Kath, Katja, Lachele, Paula, Robyn, and Sam. You carried me on your shoulders, even when I got really freakin’ heavy, and stopped me from falling into the chasm that opened up before I knew it. Dramatic, I know, but seriously that’s what you did. Thank God for you.

  Ruth! Once again, you came to my rescue and volunteered to beta read for me. You are a superstar, and I will always have your back whenever you need me to return the favour.

  Big thanks to my editor, Eeva, who became very ill during the editing of this book, but still soldiered through. I feel personally responsible, and I hope you can forgive my impatience. I’ll try to pare back the profound word play in future, but I do love it so.

  Jennifer at More Than Words Promotions, thank you for helping me to get my work out there. And for being patient with my re-scheduling and the ARC delay. Love the teasers!

  Nicole Andrews Moore and the team at Love Kissed Author Promotions, you are such an inspiration. Thank you all for being awesome and accommodating.

  To my reader group, JM’s Gems, y’all are the bomb. Thanks for listening to my bullshit and giving me feedback on the snippets I share. I’ll have some goodies just for you on release day!

  To my ARC readers, thank you so much for being excited to read an advanced copy, and a massive thanks to all those who reviewed the book. It’s so nerve wracking to send out those first copies, so thanks for going easy on me.

  Likewise, to the bloggers who work so hard to help authors spread the word, you are all so important and deserve a heck of a lot more credit.

  And to you, my readers, you wonderful souls, you. Thank you for buying this book. It means the world to me that you wanted to read it. I hope you liked it.

  I’ve left the most important people until last. My three little Jedi. You are my world. I know I spend too much time working, but I’m doing it for you. I want to give you guys the best, but I also want to show you what it takes to follow through on a promise and chase your dreams. Whatever you choose to do, you know I’ll be there, backing you all the way. Love you to bits.

  Chapter One

  Self-hatred was the purest thing Aiden Thomas had felt in years. He stood in the bathroom of his hotel room, harsh, fluorescent light casting unforgiving shadows over the angles of his face. His shoulders wrenched up and down as each breath grew harder to drag in. The face reflected in the mirror twisted with shame and a fierce disgust. Black
eyes bored into the mirror and back again in an infinite battle of wills and intimidation.

  The news he’d discovered ten minutes ago was the baseball bat to the head he needed. A wakeup call after more than a decade of numb oblivion, isolation and ignorance. Aiden had let everyone down, including himself. He’d never see Hank Murphy again because he’d been behaving like a chicken shit, little boy. His teeth made a horrible grinding sound as he clenched his jaw.

  The urge to destroy proved irresistible. He pounded his fist into the grim reflection, the shattering of the glass deafening in the small space. A satisfied smile crossed his face as he inspected his shredded knuckles. Aiden flexed his hand watching red spill down between his fingers, coloring the shards in the sink. It hurt like a bitch, and it felt fucking awesome.

  The pussy in the mirror was gone. Aiden Thomas was awake and determined to make things right.

  _____

  Almost a day later, he stood deliberately separate from a huddle of black sorrow, listening to the somber tones of a man of God eulogizing and offering prayer. A summary of the life of a man who meant so much to him, the one a young Aiden wished had been his real father.

  The intermittent breeze carried away the murmurings of the minister, stirring the rich smell of freshly dug soil mixed with the more delicate scent of the floral adornment on the coffin. He sucked in the smells and the moisture in the southern air, grateful for some relief from the heaviness of his guilt. Beneath a makeshift bandage, his throbbing hand reminded him of the task ahead.

  Aiden surveyed the crowd, recognizing most of his fellow mourners, although they were much older now. As a boy, he’d thought of them as his family until his father had disabused him of the notion, called him a foolish leech, and taught him that the only person he could truly rely on was himself.

  He belonged to nobody.

  All utter bullshit. He had belonged to Hank, his true father in every way that counted. He knew that now. Now that it was too late.

  Jesus, Hank. I’m so sorry.

  He set his jaw to prevent an agonized shout from escaping, as his eyes locked on the coffin. He forced them away, tilting his head side to side to loosen his neck. The pain from flexing his fingers allowed him to center his torment as far away from his heart as he could get it. It was welcome relief, however brief.

  Aiden absorbed the poignant words and looked around the gathering once again. A petite woman across from him drew his eyes. The only points of color were her red lips, and the green leaves and stem of a white rose visible through a curtain of raven hair. Each tear caught on the corner of her mouth before it trickled down her chin and fell to the earth. Her gloved hands clasped those of a fellow mourner’s, obviously her close friend. They presented a striking contrast, a dark crown beside platinum blonde. The women rocked slightly side-to-side, alternating between supporters and supported.

  Something about the ebony-haired beauty pinched at his distant memories, imploring him to remember a familiarity long forgotten. Aiden’s feet wanted to move of their own accord, to circle the huddle to get to her with some amount of stealth. He locked his knees refusing to bow to their demand, dropping his gaze to take in the grass beneath his feet. That’d be a good start. Embarrassing himself the first time he’d seen these people in fifteen years, and at the funeral of one of the town’s most loved. His shoulders dropped as he pushed a long breath out, before raising his eyes once more.

  The woman stood trembling, staring straight at him, barely holding it together. She was beyond beautiful, although agony etched her features. Her distressed state tugged at his protective side more than it should have, drawing the corners of his mouth down. Her big, doe-shaped eyes blinked through her tears, draining more rapidly now. Mouth quivering, her distress seemed to grow as she watched him. Jesus, she looked like she was going to collapse.

  Aiden’s right foot lifted and he stumbled forward slightly, catching himself before he could go any further. A prickle of awareness caused his stare to shift, taking in the narrowed gaze of her friend as she gripped onto her companion around the waist. He schooled his features, and quickly turned away. What the hell did he think he’d be able to do for her anyway?

  Once again facing the Minister, he joined in the last prayers for his dear friend. “Rest in peace, old man,” he said to himself, letting his grief wash over him once again. The minister finished the service and the coffin was lowered. A tepid breeze carried some dry leaves to join his friend in his final resting place in the ground.

  Aiden watched as the woman broke away from her friend to throw a folded piece of paper and the rose onto the coffin. She made her way straight to him, stopping when the toes of their shoes tapped together, sending a jolt of adrenaline straight into his blood stream. He looked down at her leaning his shoulders away. The fuck? The closeness was jarring. Did she recognize him?

  Her face tipped up, presenting him with her tear-stained beauty once more. Aiden pulled out a hanky from his jacket and offered it, needing to comfort her somehow.

  “Thank y—” A sniffle and a gasp cut off her words. “…ou.”

  “Sorry for your loss.” The rumble of his voice sounded deep as the inane words tumbled out of his mouth. He cringed inwardly. What could he say that didn’t sound trite? Hank would know what to say.

  Aiden’s brown eyes drilled into her vivid green ones. She was an ethereal beauty. It was heartbreaking to witness the sadness pouring out of such perfection. Her head bobbed as she curled an unsteady hand around her throat, and burst into sobs.

  “Oh sh—” He grimaced, raising a cautious hand to pat her on the shoulder. In response, she stepped into his side, grabbing onto the lapel of his jacket. Her jerky movements sent shock waves racing through his veins, the weight of her grip seeping into his bones. His mind blanked for a minute as his body took over. He shook his head to set his synapses scrambling, trying to make sense of this bizarre interaction.

  When he arrived this morning, it sure didn’t equate to a feeling of homecoming. He shouldn’t have been surprised at the feeling of displacement and disconnection. That shit was pretty standard. But, this was Alabama. Where he grew up. The only place that had ever felt like home. Now? Sweet home Alabama? Not so much. Standing with his arm around this stranger… this felt more like home. Aiden’s eyes almost crossed from system overload. His body hadn’t really felt anything in so long. He was used to living the life of an international nomad, roaming between photo shoots. His only interactions with others coming from behind a camera lens.

  What the hell is happening?

  The woman’s shudders slowly lessened to the softer, rise and fall of her chest, as she breathed deeply in acceptance of his comfort. Huh. He had been able to offer something after all. It speared his soul, connecting him to another in a way he had forgotten existed. His breathing slowed in time with hers, every inhale drawing her delicate, jasmine perfume, and the scent of salty tears. Aiden was drawing as much comfort as he was giving, the exchange probably weighing more heavily in his favor. In a moment of tortured surrender, this petite woman had made him see how lonely he was.

  Loneliness was his MO.

  His life sucked.

  Goddamn.

  It made him want to wrap himself around this woman, and never let go.

  Their cocoon of comfort was shattered as she yanked her body away from his, crossing her arms, consternation written all over her face. At a loss for what to do, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Aiden dimly registered the sounds of car engines starting as the mourners lined up to leave, and the whispers of those few who remained.

  “Are you coming to the wake?” Her eyes were almost pleading.

  “Yes,” his mouth spoke without connecting to his brain. His intention had been to pay his respects and leave, unsure if he’d even be welcome. Actually, he was certain he was unwelcome. Why was she asking him, a stranger?

  Her head jerked in approval, before she again burrowed in the envelope of her friend’s arms, the women then ma
rched away. Aiden hadn’t even noticed the blonde move toward them. He’d been blissfully oblivious, completely absorbed by a woman for the first time in…forever.

  He stood on liquid legs, elbows loose, missing the feel of her. Bewilderment doused his ability to think, as he watched her retreat. Something about the texture of her movement stirred the familiarity again. His memories rose closer to the surface, but faded again as she disappeared out of sight.

  The energy in the air was noticeably different. Heaviness descended over him again as he turned to the grave to add a shovelful of dirt. Three other men remained to do the same.

  “It’s good to see ye again, Aiden. Sorry it couldn’t have been under happier circumstances.” Harry, his friend’s brother, gave him a slap on the shoulder in greeting. The sentiment confused and chipped at his expectation to be treated like a stranger.

  He paused to collect his wits, gathering the appropriate words from unused corners of his brain. “I’m crushed that I didn’t get to see him again. He was more of a father to me than my own.” The truth came rushing out, striking him straight through the heart. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He addressed all three men, again frustrated that he couldn’t think of anything better to say. Harry’s younger brother, Harvey, and Mr. Saunders, the neighbor from across the street, joined Harry.

  Hank had been the oldest brother. A tall and sturdy Irishman with masses of black hair, and a beard to match. The younger brothers had inherited red hair from their mother, but they all had the same goliath stature.

  In comical contrast, Mr. Saunders was a petite man with thin white wisps of hair. His eyebrows and eyelashes almost invisible against his pale pink skin.

  All three men were in their sixties now. Patches of white had bleached the red hair at the brothers’ temples, with several strays flecked about, elsewhere. It was shocking, how much they had aged. He supposed they could say the same about him. He was not yet sixteen when his parents moved him north.