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

by Fabiola Francisco

“It’ll be okay, Maddy,” I whisper into her hair.

  “I don’t deserve this,” she murmurs against my chest.

  Leaning back, I stare down at her with narrowed eyes. “We’ve already discussed this. Don’t you dare say that. What you didn’t deserve is the harassment and assault. But this…we both deserve this.” I brush my thumbs over her cheeks, and her breath catches.

  Instead of kissing her like I want to, I hug her and pull her to me, resting my chin on the top of her head. She’s vulnerable right now, and I need to take it slow, make sure we’re both ready for what’s to come.

  After a few minutes of silence, Madison wipes her face and offers a small smile. “What else did you bring?” She lifts the beer bottle, and I’m distracted by the way her lips wrap around it. She arches a brow and clears her throat.

  “Uh…” I reach for a bag. Madison laughs, and I smile at the freedom in that sound. “I brought subs and cookies from The Grind.”

  “Yum. I’ll start with a cookie, please.” She reaches her hand out.

  “Dessert first?” I wink, causing her cheeks to turn pink. It’s my turn to laugh as I pull out the paper bag from the coffee shop and hand her a cookie. I eat my sub instead since I’m still running on the coffee and banana from earlier.

  “You always did like banana peppers in your subs,” she comments, scrunching up her nose.

  “And you hated it.” She nods in acknowledgment with her mouth full of cookie.

  I tell her about work as we eat. She finally digs into her sub, and I get us two more beers. Time passes the way it used to when we were younger.

  When we finish eating, I grab some rocks and start skipping them. Madison sits quietly, and I know she’s in her head about all this. I want to hold her, comfort her. I want to take away the pain that lingers in her eyes, even when she’s smiling. I want those dimples to permanently frame her face because of me.

  I drop the rocks and tug her to me, bringing her down on my lap and running my hand through her hair. She sighs softly, and her eyes flutter closed.

  “Maddy, everything’s gonna work out. I know it is. There’s no way we’re gonna get another chance and have it yanked from us because of this.”

  I don’t expect her to speak, but I’m surprised by what she says. “I don’t know what I want anymore, Tate. I want this all to disappear, but after… I don’t know what path to take. Once this is done, whatever the outcome, my career may be over. If they win, people won’t trust me to work with them. If they lose, I’ll always be the victim. And regardless of the legal outcome, my soul’s broken.” Her words crack at the end.

  “Baby, nothing about you is broken.” I comb away the strands covering her face and tug her chin, so she’s looking at me. “You’re whole.” I cup the side of her face. “This doesn’t define you. I hate that you had to live through that, and I hate even more that you have to continue reliving it while you work through the legal aspect. But don’t doubt for a second that any piece of you is less than someone else because of this.”

  Tears roll down her face, and I swipe them away before they fall. “You’re so much more than this.” This time I don’t stop myself. I lean down and brush my lips to hers, tasting her salty tears.

  I lift my head just enough to look into those gorgeous jade eyes. “I need you to believe that, Maddy. Tell me you do.”

  Her lips tremble, and she shakes her head. “How about I tell you I’m tryin’?”

  “I’ll make you see,” I promise. I tug her up and then bring us down, so we’re lying together. The hard wood beneath me isn’t enough to deter me from staying like this with Madison. If I had to sleep on this hard surface for the rest of my life but had her in my arms, I wouldn’t care.

  I continue to brush my fingers through her hair, whispering promises about keeping her safe, helping her see her worth, and showing her how special she is.

  Never in a million years did I think I’d be holding Madison again. But a million years could’ve passed until I felt her again, and it’d feel like it was just yesterday. It feels like I never had to let her go. Like she was always mine. In a way, maybe she was.

  When the sky starts darkening, Madison says, “We should get going.”

  “Yeah,” I hate to agree.

  “This was a perfect second first date,” she smiles.

  Chuckling, I run a hand through my hair. “I guess it is our second first date.”

  “Yup.” She stands, wiping the back of her jeans. “Thank you.” She looks up at me through her lashes with a shy smile.

  “For what?” I lift my brows, stepping closer.

  “For forgiving me, for being here, for all the nice things you said earlier. I have no idea how I’ll overcome this. I’ve been carrying it for months, and it’s a heavy load, but it helps to have people I care about around me.”

  “I’ve got you.” My hand lands on her hip, and she shivers. “Is this okay?” I suddenly realize she may not be comfortable with someone touching her yet.

  She nods. “I trust you, Tate. I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.” Her hand lands on the one I have on her hip and holds it. She lifts it to her lips and kisses my palm. My body tightens at the feel of her soft lips somewhere on my skin. I’d love to take her back to my place and keep her there, even if to just hold her a little while longer.

  Instead, I suggest, “Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow? I’m off, and I work the day after,” I throw in, hoping to sway her agreement. If not, I’ll have to wait until the end of another twenty-four-hour shift before seeing her again.

  “Are you sure?” She takes her lower lip between her teeth.

  “I’m positive. I can’t promise I’ll cook, but I make a mean take-out order.”

  She laughs, rolling her eyes playfully. “I’ll bring dessert.” When I lift my eyebrow and give a crooked smirk, she slaps my chest. “Not that kind.”

  “I’m just teasin’ ya.” I pull her to me by her waist. Kissing her forehead, I inhale her sweet scent. “Tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” She looks up at me, the guard I’ve seen in her eyes gone now. Her hand comes up to frame one side of my face, and I close my eyes, breathing in deeply. I turn my face and kiss her palm.

  “I never thought we’d be like this again,” she confesses.

  “Me either.” I shake my head and look away, memories of the hurt I felt when she left surfacing.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes clouded with the same sadness I feel.

  “Don’t be.” I peck her lips. “I’m glad you came back instead of staying over there and exposing yourself more to the dangers at work.”

  “Me too.” She hugs me before stepping away. I release her, knowing this isn’t the last time I’ll hold her. We’re just getting started with our second firsts.

  Chapter 18

  Madison

  Dinner with Tate has been amazing. I haven’t felt like myself in a long time, and being with him, not having to act a certain way or have on the appropriate outfit, makes me feel normal. The weeks I have spent in Willow Creek have given me a sense of peace. It’s almost as if I’m not this famous singer while I’m here. Sure, people in town look at me a certain way, get excited to see me out and about, but they still treat me like the girl they knew. And those that don’t, I can quickly remind them of who I am.

  I shift on the couch where we’re sitting after dinner, crossing my legs and resting my back on the armrest. Tate’s ankle is crossed over his knee, his body slightly angled, so he’s looking at me. We’ve spent the night keeping things light, talking about work and life the last few years.

  I still can’t believe I’m here with him. Sometimes the emotion is so overwhelming I find myself blinking back tears. I was such a naïve fool when we graduated high school and decided to move.

  After Tate tells me about some of the experiences he’s had at his job, I ask, “Aren’t you ever scared doing what you do?”

  “No,” he shakes his head. “Fear is checked out
of our job. I run on adrenaline, but besides that, it’s not about me. It’s about the people we’re savin’. They’re afraid for their lives. If I show signs of fear, I’m not helping them.”

  “Wow…” I nod slowly. It makes sense. Firefighters need to have a level head in order to get the job done well.

  He chuckles. “What’s your favorite part of being a singer?”

  “The small, intimate shows I do with fans. It gives me a chance to show more of who I am, talk to them, sing my songs.”

  “Truth time.” He turns his body until he’s facing me. His blue stare locks with mine. I nod, giving him the go-ahead. “Is it everything you dreamed it’d be?”

  I blink, eyes widening for a moment as I take a deep breath. That’s a loaded question, especially with what I”m currently dealing with.

  I finally settle on, “Yes and no.” Tate’s head tilts, his eyes narrowing. “I love making music. I love performing and meeting fans. When I hear my songs on the radio, I still freak out.” He smiles at that last comment.

  “But there’s so much to the business that it’s not all rainbows and good times. There’s a lot of politics involved, control, image branding. Sometimes it’s exhausting. I used to admire my favorite singers, see how they always seemed like themselves. I thought country music was different than Hollywood, and while it is, it’s also not as freeing as I expected. Maybe there’s something wrong with me,” I shrug.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.” Tate tentatively holds my hand. “Maybe what’s wrong is the label you decided to sign with. They’re the ones not doing right by people. Hell, if they can defend a predator, they’re definitely the problem.”

  I turn my hand over, linking our fingers and watching them in fascination at how they fit, how right his hand feels in mine—such a silly thing in the grand scheme of intimacy. My thumb rubs soft circles against his hand, and my gaze lifts to his.

  “I know the only reason I got signed so quickly is because I’m one of NFL’s best athlete’s daughters. I’m not that naïve. I should’ve taken that as a sign of what their priorities are.”

  He shakes his head. “Even if that’s true, you proved yourself by the number of fans you have, the number of albums sold. Shit, you’ve hit Platinum.” He runs his free hand through his hair.

  I can’t help the smile that lifts the corner of my lips. He’s been watching me.

  “I’ll admit, I didn’t love seeing how different you turned, starting with dying your hair. Then you used your middle name instead of Madison, and I kept questioning what was happening.”

  I cast my eyes downward and tuck my lower lip between my teeth. “That’s part of the control. I didn’t have much of a choice. They said blonde hair sold more than red. Rose was more wholesome than Madison. They trained me to take on a certain role. I figured that was how it’s supposed to be.” I’m glad that I finally have the opportunity to explain all of this to him.

  “Can we switch topics now?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He turns on the television, surfing through channels. “Come ‘ere.” He opens his arm, and I crawl close to him, making myself at home in the side of his body as he holds me and makes me feel cherished.

  At this moment, if I have to choose Nashville or Tate, I’d choose Tate. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  ***

  Everything has been a whirlwind the last few days. After my lawyer filed the claim to Human Resources and the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, we were able to start gathering information for a lawsuit.

  Human Resources was quicker to respond, stating that they looked into it but didn’t find a reason to investigate further. Basically, they aren’t morally doing their job and are staying quiet because of who’s involved.

  As for the governmental claim, they have up to one hundred and eighty days to review it and send a decision. That’s too long to wait. My lawyer sent a Notice of Right to Sue in order to move forward with the lawsuit before they finish their investigation. I’m so grateful to have guidance from someone who knows what he’s doing because I’m lost when it comes to what steps to take.

  Although I haven’t seen Tate again since I had dinner at his house, we’ve talked through text messages almost daily. He checks in, asks how the process is going, and gets as angry as I do when the news isn’t good. He makes me feel like I’m not alone. While I have my family’s support, it’s so calming to know I have his as well. He helps to give perspective that my family might not be able to because of how close they are to me.

  Instead of wallowing about not receiving the type of response I was hoping for, I decide to visit Miles and June at the bookstore. Paul stops right by the front door, so I can sneak in without calling attention to myself.

  “Hey,” I say when I walk in.

  “Hey,” June smiles over at me, a huge box blocking most of her.

  “What’s all that?” I stare at the intimidating stack of boxes.

  “Our huge order arrived today. I’m sorting through the inventory, making sure nothing’s missing, and then inputting them in our online system.” She blows a curl out of her face, but it falls back down.

  I laugh and join her by the counter. “Want help?”

  “Really?” Her eyes round.

  “Yeah. It’ll be good to put me to work and keep my mind off the disaster that is my life.” I roll my eyes.

  “Oh my goodness, thank you!” She relaxes with a sigh. “I was totally overwhelmed.” She looks at the mess surrounding her.

  “Where’s Miles?”

  “He had to go to the winery. Anyway, before we begin, come see the bar. It’s done!” she squeals.

  “Lead the way,” I smile.

  June points to the small wine bar. The weathered wood top gives it a rustic feel, while the mixed metals add a modern industrial feel to it. A few stools line the bar, but there’s still space to add comfortable seating where people can lounge.

  “I’m still trying to figure out how to open the space, so it doesn’t feel crowded with the bookshelves,” June explains, looking around with her arms crossed and lips pursed.

  “Hmmm…” I take in the space.

  “What if you lined the shelves against the wall instead of making aisles so that it opens up the space more? Like that, people can browse without feeling claustrophobic or bumping into the check-out counter. It also gives more space for people to be comfortable while in line waiting to pay.”

  June nods with a smile. “That’s a great idea. I’m so used to bookshelves creating intimate and tight nooks in those aisles that I didn’t think to put them against the wall that way.”

  “I get that. It does have an intimate feel, but I think working with the space you have and combining the bar with the bookstore will be a good solution. Besides, you’ll have a small seating area that will serve as a nook. You don’t want to block the bar from view because people may not realize it’s there.”

  I move around the space, envisioning it. “I think it’d be cool to create some kind of separation but still flow. Maybe you can use the armchairs to create that ‘division,’” I say with air quotes.

  “I like that. Are you sure you don’t have an inkling to be an interior decorator?” June teases.

  I giggle and shake my head. “No way, that’s too much pressure on someone.”

  June and I get to work as I help her unpack boxes, double-check the order, and build her inventory. This is so exciting for her, and I can’t wait to see how it turns out.

  “You know what you could do?” I begin talking, hoping I’m not overstepping the boundaries.

  When June lifts her brows, pencil in her mouth, I continue speaking. “Maybe you can have a shelf for donations by the bar area. Books people have read but no longer have space for. So that when you come to have a glass of wine, you can read one of those books. It’ll avoid people using your inventory and then putting it back on the shelf without purchasing, and if there’s a book they love that isn’t on your shelves, you ca
n order it for them. Or!” I get excited now, “they can take the used one and replace it with one of their own later on. Like those cute mailbox libraries some neighborhoods have.”

  “I love that idea! I was worried about that. We want people to buy books, sit and have a glass of wine, and read what they purchased. Although, I know some people won’t follow that and might take advantage. If the books on the shelves look used from people handling them, I won’t be able to sell them for full price.”

  “Yes, and if they just want to browse and come for a glass of wine, they have something to check out.”

  June nods excitedly. “I can’t wait to open. It’s all starting to feel real.”

  “When’s the grand opening?” I lean my hip against the counter.

  “Next month,” June bites her lip nervously. “I told Miles we should wait until after New Year’s, but he insisted that the holidays will help with business, and people are always looking for a place to get together with friends. Besides, we’ve had a few people asking about our events and hosting their book club here.”

  “That’s great. I’m sure it’s going to be a success. Y’all are bringing something new to town with a familiar feel. It’ll be perfect. I’m excited to see it flourish.”

  “Thank you, Madison. I appreciate your encouragement.”

  “No need to thank me.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “Now, let’s get back to work.”

  “Oh! Want some wine to help us move along?” Her eyes light up with a smile.

  “Duh.” I shake my head and roll my eyes playfully.

  June pulls out a bottle of red she has stashed behind the new bar and two plastic cups. “Sorry, we don’t have proper glassware yet.”

  “I’ve drunk wine out of a mug; this will definitely do,” I giggle.

  We talk as we work and drink wine. Soon, the intimidating pile seems more manageable.

  “How are things with Tate?” June asks quietly.

  I look at her for a second and smile. “They’re good. We’re just spending time together, but… I don’t know,” I shrug. “It feels like we have a second chance to do right.”