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

by Fabiola Francisco

  Sometimes after work, no matter how exhausted my body is, my mind is still buzzing, and it takes longer than I’d like to relax enough to rest. Add in that I’ve been preoccupied with running into Madison, and I’m less likely to relax.

  I jog out of my house. Running always clears my head, so I’m banking on that helping now. Despite the anger and hurt rolling through me, I can’t help but wonder why Madison would skip out on her responsibilities. I figured if she was here, it was because she had time off. That’s Madison, though, always running instead of facing the music. It’s a trait in her I wish I wasn’t so familiar with.

  My throat burns from the run, my heart racing five times faster than my feet, and I stop, panting as I place my hands on my knees and catch my breath.

  I choose to continue walking instead of running so I can slow my sprinting heart and catch my breath. It’s a beautiful day with the sun shining down and a slight breeze brushing my skin. Nature’s always helped ground me, and I need it more than ever now.

  My steps falter when I see the figure ahead. Looks like I’m not the only one needing fresh air to clear my head.

  I take a deep breath and move forward. I guess it’s time to face her. As much as I’d love to, I can’t avoid Madison forever. Willow Creek is only so big. While I could walk by her and pretend she’s not there, the part of me that loved her once weighs heavier this time.

  “Hey.” She presses her lips together when I stop in front of her. Trees line either side of the road, and we’re away from the town center where curious eyes could witness this confrontation.

  Madison’s hair is in a ponytail, and she’s wearing some ugly bug-eye-looking glasses that hide half her face. I’d still be able to pick her out in a crowd. All these years later…

  “Hi.” I cross my arms.

  We face each other awkwardly, neither speaking. My eyes scrutinize her. I can’t tell much without seeing her eyes, but her body language is tense and robotic. She looks nothing like the carefree girl I loved.

  “H-how have you been?” She moves her arms, crossing and uncrossing, clasping her hands together before sticking them in her pockets—all nervous tics. My job has trained me to read people’s body language.

  “Good,” I nod. “I assume you’re also good considering you’re living your dream. You’d do anything for it. Why are you here?” I arch a brow.

  I don’t need to see her eyes to know she’s glaring at me with the way her eyebrows pull down. After taking a deep breath, she crosses her arms.

  “I gotta go.” She steps around me.

  “I see you’re still blonde,” I call out just to spite her. I never said I knew how to approach her maturely.

  “I see you’re still acting like a dick.” She murmurs this, but I don’t miss the insult.

  To add to her irritation, I smirk and say, “You wanna see my dick? Man, the years have made you forward. Is that what fame does?”

  “What do you want, Tate?” Her voice is full of a force I’ve never heard. I tilt my head, wishing those damn glasses weren’t covering her face so I could figure out what’s going on. Her jaw is locked and shoulders tight.

  “I wanna know why you’re here.”

  “I came to see my family. Are you the Willow Creek welcoming committee? Because you’d suck at it. I hadn’t realized I had to state my reasoning for visiting. After all, I have to keep my life as private as possible, so I don’t have to say jack shit about why I’m here.” Keeping her life private? I don’t think there’s anything private about her.

  As soon as Madison left for Nashville after high school, she rose quickly to stardom. Stories, good and bad, were printed, and I read every one of them like a starved animal craving any bit of Madison I could get.

  “I really don’t care,” I shrug, contradicting myself.

  “Well, great. I’m gonna go then. I’m not really in the mood to deal with your insults.” She shakes her head, her throat bobbing.

  “You’re the one who left. What do you expect? You think I’m gonna roll out a red carpet and welcome you with a smile and words of affection.” Honest to God, I don’t get her.

  “Yeah, I left, I know. You threw that in my face more than once. I’m sorry, is that what you wanna hear?” Her hands fly up as her voice rises.

  “I don’t need fake apologies. The person you are now isn’t who I knew.”

  She shakes her head. When she speaks, I don’t miss her voice cracking. “Bye, Tate.”

  I watch her walk away, wishing I had a wall to punch. This day is total shit already. I should’ve forced myself to fall asleep. Madison gets under my skin. The hurt I experienced when she left was suffocating, and it clearly still stings.

  For a long time, I was secretly obsessed with searching her online, watching clips of her performances, following each step she took to get where she is. I couldn’t move on. I couldn’t accept that my high school sweetheart just up and left as if we meant nothing to each other, as if a career was more important than our relationship. Then I’d feel guilty because for as long as I’ve known Madison, even before we ever became a couple, I knew her dream was to move to Nashville and become a singer.

  It was a vicious cycle of anger, hurt, and guilt. My heart broke, and I’ve done my best to move on. I’d like to say I’ve succeeded, but the truth is that I’ve never fully recovered from Madison Carlisle’s love. It was fierce, honest, and wild. And then, it was ripped from me.

  ***

  After finally getting a couple of hours of sleep, I head to my parents’ house for dinner. I could use some family time after my run-in with Madison this morning. I haven’t been able to get our encounter out of my mind. She was clearly stressed before our confrontation.

  After reading that article, I have to wonder what the hell is going on. Is she hiding out here? That wouldn’t make much sense since everyone knows this is her hometown.

  “Hi, honey,” my mom says as I walk into their house.

  “Hi, Mom.” I kiss her cheek. “Smells good.”

  “Thanks. How are you?” She eyes me carefully. I’ve been avoiding her questions recently since I know she’s itching to ask about Madison. I wasn’t the only one with the fairytale in my mind. My mom always believed we’d end up together.

  “I’m good, just tired.” I scrub a hand across my bearded jaw and smile.

  “Your dad’s outside.” She tilts her head toward the patio. “Let him know you’re here.”

  I nod and head that way, finding my dad sitting at the table, drinking a beer. “Hey, I say as I approach him.

  “Hi,” he looks up at me with a smile. “Grab yourself a beer and come sit out ‘ere.”

  Following instructions, I head back inside, grab a beer, and then take a seat next to my dad. A light chill is in the air, which is a nice break for our weather.

  “How are you doin’?” He asks with the beer bottle lifted to his lips, ready to take a sip.

  “I’m good. Long shift at work. Had an accident to take care of, and it wasn’t pretty.” I lean back in the chair, finally relaxing for the first time in almost forty-eight hours.

  “I heard about that. Everyone survived, right?”

  “Yeah, thankfully, but one of the girls is badly injured in ICU.” I take a drink of the hoppy alcohol, letting it relax me further.

  “I’m sure she’ll overcome it.” He pats my back. “I also heard you ran into Madison last week…” His eyebrows lift.

  “Dad…” I warn.

  “Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” He lifts his hands, palms facing me. The lines on his forehead become more prominent as his eyebrows lift.

  “I’m fine. She’ll be gone soon, and it’ll be like she was never here,” I shrug, pushing up the sleeves of my Henley.

  “Physically present or not, she’s always been on your mind.” He points the neck of his bottle at me.

  “Can we talk about somethin’ else?” I ask, not wanting to spend any more brainpower on Madison today.

  “
Listen, son. I know you were hurt when she left. Heartbreak ain’t easy. Shit, your momma broke my heart once, said we were too different to be together. I still remember that day as if it were yesterday. Thankfully, we overcame it,” he chuckles. “I kept going after her, showing her how wrong she was. We were and still are perfect for each other.” I look at my dad, take in the love he has for my mom. I always grew up in a house where love reigned, and I wished I’d find that, believed I could have it with Madison.

  “Madison and I aren’t like y’all. Our lives just weren’t meant to follow the same path. It’s been done and over for a long time.”

  “Yeah, but I hear she’s in town for a while, has no set date to return to Nashville. Isn’t that a little fishy?” My dad leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. I swear he could’ve been a detective with how much he loves solving mysteries.

  This catches my attention after the news I read. “Really? She’s been skipping out on events. I don’t get it.” I shake my head and rub my forehead as my confusion grows.

  What in the world is going on with her? I can’t help but worry if she’s in some kind of trouble that she’s not telling. Madison wouldn’t abandon ship without a real reason. After all, she gave up on us to chase this dream. Would she throw that all away just because?

  “I’m not sure what’s going on.” My dad shakes his head and frowns. “Just hope she ain’t in some kinda trouble. I know y’all had your issues, but I’d hate to see her go through something bad.” He reads my mind.

  “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, even her.” As much as I hate to admit it, curiosity about Madison’s current situation is bringing out the protector in me. Man, I’m a mess. I’d almost rather work three straight shifts, even if they are twenty-four hours long than be left alone with the thoughts in my mind.

  “I know, son.” He nods. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He tries to undo the stress building in my shoulders, but it’s too late.

  Once upon a time, I’d give anything to be with her. I lived to love Madison, and I was convinced that was a forever thing. I would’ve protected her and taken care of her until my last breath. I guess some habits are hard to break.

  Chapter 7

  Madison

  To say that the last couple of days have gone as planned would be a big fat lie. After going to the movies with the girls and Miles asking about my phone, everything went on a downward spiral. Confronting Tate instead of ignoring him like I have the other times I’ve seen him didn’t help either. There’s so much between us, and I couldn’t expect him to welcome me with open arms. Besides, I’m just here temporarily.

  However, his comment keeps turning in my head. The person you are now isn’t who I knew. It’s just another confirmation of how this industry has changed me. I blink back tears as I sit in my room and avoid going downstairs. I’ve put off telling my family what’s going on, but I know they’re going to keep questioning me. I wouldn’t expect them not to be worried.

  I check my phone and find more articles talking about me. Most say the same thing in different words—I’m not in Nashville, missed events and performances, angry fans. Not to mention, my phone has been going off, and from what I hear, the paparazzi are looking for me.

  A soft knock sounds and I sit still. Maybe if they think I’m asleep, they’ll let me rest and leave me alone.

  No chance. Another knock, louder this time. I take a deep breath, set my phone on the nightstand, and say, “Come in.”

  My mom appears once the door opens. She smiles as she takes a few steps into my room. “Mind if I come in?”

  “Go for it,” I shrug, staying in my seated spot on the side of the bed.

  She sits beside me, silence filling the room as neither of us speaks. Finally, she turns to me and clasps my hand on my knee.

  “Sweetie… How are you?” Her question is full of meaning, not the superficial greeting you would use with someone you cross on the street.

  I open my mouth, but she cuts me off. “Before you say you’re good, I want you to think and tell me how you’re really doing.”

  I nod. “I’m okay. I needed a break, and when the fire happened, I figured now would be the perfect moment to spend some time at home.”

  “I thought you had time off…” Her eyebrows pull together. I don’t blame her for being confused. However, I’m afraid of telling her the truth, afraid of telling anyone. I prefer my fans hate me for being a no-show than creating a division where some call me a liar for making up sexual harassment claims, and others pity me.

  “Something’s going on. You haven’t been yourself since you arrived, tense and anxious most of the time. You’re barely sleeping.” Her hand squeezes mine.

  I look at her, tears swimming in my eyes. I blink them back before they slip down my face.

  “Talk to me. Please,” she begs.

  I rub my eyes and re-do my bun, keeping myself busy.

  “We’re your family. If there’s anyone you can trust, it’s us.” She continues to state her case. If only she could get me out of this nightmare. I’m afraid of going back to Nashville and something worse happening. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time, and I fear for my safety.

  I swallow thickly and look at the sadness in her eyes. It mirrors mine, and I know she can tell something is gravely wrong. Unable to hold it together anymore, I break down. My head tucks into my hands as I cover my face, tears soaking my face and my chest heaving. I sob as my mom asks what’s wrong. When she wraps me in her arms, I bring my arms around her waist and cry into her shoulder like a little girl.

  I’ve never felt more vulnerable in my life. Actually, that’s not true. When I was pushed up against a wall and groped, that was my most vulnerable and helpless moment. Everything afterward is the aftermath.

  “You need to talk to me,” my mom whispers, running a hand down my back in soothing strokes.

  I shake my head. “I’m scared.”

  “Scared of what? Did someone hurt you?” Her voice rises with panic.

  I lean back, swiping my face free of tears, and look her in the eyes. I’ve never felt like I’ve let her down, but in this moment, I can’t help but feel that way. I know what happened isn’t my fault, but the blame is there—too trusting, too eager to succeed, too pretty, too blonde. They’ve molded me into the person they wanted to create. How many others have gone through this? How many others have been raped, manipulated into having sex to be more successful, used and then thrown away when a shiny new toy appears on the scene?

  I shiver at the thought and glance away from my mom’s piercing stare. Taking a deep breath, I brace for impact of the emotional kind.

  “I… A…” Another deep breath to get my thoughts in order. My heart is pounding at incredible speed, and a knot forms in my throat as nausea washes over me.

  “A few months ago, I was sexually assaulted.” Rip it off like a band-aid. Shit, I didn’t mean to start that way.

  My mom gasps, covering her mouth and tears filling her eyes.

  “I wasn’t raped,” I add quickly as if that makes everything better, makes what I went through less since it could be worse.

  “What happened?” Her jaw clenches, and I see Mama Bear rearing her head.

  I tell my mom everything. How the producer cornered me, touched me, and then threatened me. How I couldn’t push him away no matter how hard I tried. He’s given me subtle threats since then, making sure I keep my mouth shut, but it’s nothing substantial to use against him in court, which tells me I’m not his first victim, and I’m definitely not his last if he’s a free man.

  “I’ve had to work with him since then, terrified of what he’d do, what he’ll still do. The worst part is that I think other executives are like him. I didn’t see it then… The comments about my looks, my sex life, my relationships. I thought we were friends, but it’s all some fucked up game. I trusted too freely, thinking these people had my best interests at heart. What they have is a nasty need to fill some part of the
ir empty souls.”

  “You need to tell someone.”

  “Who? They’ll all deny it. They’re all the same. They have the power in this situation, and I’m a puppet to them. If I go back…” I shake my head. “I’m afraid of what will happen. I’ve been so scared, looking over my shoulder while on tour, making sure I’m never alone. I got lucky that someone interrupted us because I have no doubt he would’ve taken it further. Is he biding his time until he can?” I hiccup on a cry.

  “Is this my fate?” I sob as I hug my mom.

  “No, sweetie, this is not your fate. You’ll stay here until it’s all sorted out,” she says with conviction.

  “Maybe if I miss enough events, they’ll let me out of my contract. It’s wishful thinking since I make them a lot of money, and I’ll probably get sued, but there has to be a way to get out of this. The contract is iron-clad, I had my lawyer look into it, but there has to be a loophole somewhere.” It’s my last string of hope.

  My mom nods, soothing me softly and promising everything will work out. I don’t have such high hopes as she does, but her soft voice calms my nerves.

  After having coffee and reluctantly eating some breakfast, I sit on the patio with my parents and tell my dad what happened. It wasn’t my choice to do so, but my mom insisted he had to know. He’s had his share of experiences with fame and could help.

  He takes the news badly, vowing to kill the motherfucker who touched me. Being a former athlete who still stays in shape, I have no doubt he could break the producer’s skull, but I’d rather he not be in jail.

  “Daddy… No one can know. Please.” I tremble as I think about this getting out in public.

  “I’m setting you up with security that I hire, not that piece of shit label.” I simply nod at that. I’m grateful for the offer, and I’ll accept it because I’m too scared of what will happen if left with the people connected to the label to watch over me.

  I’m surprised no one has shown up here demanding I return to Nashville after all the calls I’ve received from my manager. They know where to find me, and I’m sure it was no secret I came to Willow Creek when I ran.