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

by Fabiola Francisco

  “I protect them from physical injuries, but you heal the soul with your music.” My arms tighten around her waist.

  “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

  “It’s not about saying the right or wrong thing. It’s about speaking the truth, saying what’s on my mind and in my heart. I don’t want you to discredit yourself. I’d also hate to see you miserable down the line because you gave up your dream due to a terrible experience. No one wants to erase what you went through more than me, but don’t let that overpower your joy, babe. Don’t let them win.”

  “You see…” she leans up, cupping my face. “Always with the right words.” I trail my hand down her back and over her ass to her thighs, returning the same path, leaving goosebumps in my wake.

  Madison shivers, her breathing growing heavier. My dick hardens, and I’m sure she feels it against her leg. “You have to sleep, or you’ll be exhausted tomorrow. I won’t get blamed for keeping you up.” She jabs her finger into my chest. “You have people to save.”

  She lays back down, shutting down my advances. It’s okay, though, because as long as I have her here, I’m the winner. I’ve got the rest of my life to make love to her.

  “Fine, but I’ll say this before we go to sleep.” She rolls her eyes up to mine, keeping her head on my chest. “I want you to go to this meeting with an open mind. Don’t shut it down without hearing them out.”

  “I promise.” She lifts her head enough to kiss me before cuddling onto my side. “Goodnight, Tate. I love you.” Her voice grows heavy with sleep.

  “I love you, too, Maddy.” I press my lips to the top of her head and settle in, knowing that so long as she’s here, the world will spin, and the sun will rise with ease.

  Chapter 30

  Madison

  Tate squeezes my knee as we listen to Knox and Harris talk about their label, their philosophy when it comes to business and music, and their offer. I’m surprised they have an offer lined up already since I mentioned I wasn’t looking to sign with anyone at the moment.

  As soon as we flew in, we came straight here for our meeting. Knox and Harris had our travel bags sent to the bed and breakfast where we’re staying, promising it’s a place they trust and where we’ll have privacy.

  “We don’t believe in molding our artists into what we think people will like. We believe in authenticity, which sets us apart,” Harris says with confidence. “After years working in the industry, Knox and I decided that when it was time, we wanted to break away from the common structure that fills the bigger music labels. We’re still small, but we grow each year, bringing on new artists.”

  I nod slowly, taking in their words.

  “You’re welcome to talk to our artists, hear what they have to say,” Knox adds.

  “This all sounds great…” My voice wavers, indecision escaping when I’ve tried to stay neutral.

  “I’m going to be frank,” Knox says, leaning forward on his chair, his elbows resting on the table. “When I went through my issues at RWB, I was done. Ask Harris. I wanted to break my ties with them, get my divorce final, and lay low here in my hometown. I wasn’t ready nor looking to make any more music. I hadn’t even picked up my guitar in months.”

  I’m surprised by his honesty but appreciate it. It was a huge scandal, and he was the villain at every turn they took the story, weaving it into a knotted mess until the truth came out.

  “Wow, I’ve at least played my guitar as comfort,” I give a small smile.

  Knox chuckles. “Maybe that would’ve helped me. It wasn’t until someone asked me to play that I did.” His eyes soften with a genuine smile full of love, which makes me question if it was his new wife.

  “Anyway, it took me some time to warm up to Harris’s idea. I wasn’t set on playing again, let alone creating a label.” He claps his friend’s shoulder.

  “It was the best idea,” Harris adds.

  “We understand if you’re not ready to make any commitments at the moment. Like I said, I know what it’s like to be in your position, even if your experience was much more serious than mine. However, if you ever do decide you’d like to continue with your music career, we’d love to work with you. Whether it’s this year or next, our door’s always open.”

  I smile at Knox’s words, relaxing. Tate’s been quiet by my side, a silent supporter. I’m sure he’s taking it all in, though.

  “Here’s a copy of the contract so you can look over it with more time.” Harris pushes forward the papers, and I gratefully take them.

  I feel like I’m nineteen again, getting offered my first record deal. It took me a year to get signed after I moved to Nashville, and I remember the excitement I felt then. This time around, I’m more careful, less trusting, and more skeptical. However, Knox and Harris give me a good feeling. Their eyes mirror honesty. It’s a gut feeling.

  “I have a question,” Tate speaks up, leaning forward. “Would we have to move here?” My heart warms as he includes himself in this, but it also rips off in a sprint at the thought that he might not want that.

  “It’s not necessary. We have artists who don’t live here. Actually, most don’t, preferring to stay in Nashville.” He looks between us and then keeps his eyes on mine. “We can work with you from your hometown. However, you will need to travel here as needed. We record here, and have our own producer and team, as we said earlier. You’d tour when the time comes, as well. Basically, we’d be starting your career from scratch since RWB has the rights to your old songs.”

  “That makes sense.” I nod.

  “With that being said,” Harris steps in. “You already have a fan base, so it won’t be totally from scratch.”

  After talking to them a little longer, getting recommendations for us to visit around town and places to eat while we’re here, we head out of their office. As soon as we step into the reception area, a blonde woman smiles at us with wide eyes.

  “Ainsley,” Knox warns gruffly.

  Ainsley looks at Knox and then me. That’s when I recognize that she’s his wife.

  “Hi, I’m Ainsley. It’s so great to meet you,” her voice is full of excitement as she bounces over to me, extending her hand.

  Knox mumbles something that gets washed away by Ainsley’s next words. “I’m such a huge fan. I got so excited when Knox told me he was reachin’ out to you.” Ainsley claps her hands, her smile never wavering. It’s contagious, actually, and soon my lips are splitting into a huge grin that matches hers.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  “Hey, where are you from?” Tate asks, looking at her with confusion. Her southern twang is definitely not native to Wyoming.

  “I’m actually from Dallas, so we’re like Texas buddies. Well, not really since we just met, but I hope we can be.”

  I bite back a laugh when Knox rolls his eyes, and Harris laughs. Their dynamic is comical.

  “I’m gonna take her away before she says she knows your family or something.” Knox wraps an arm around Ainsley’s shoulder, but his eyes glimmer with adoration.

  “Uh, Knox,” Ainsley’s eyes widen. “Are you kiddin’ me? Of course I know her family. Her dad’s just the best player our Cowboys have ever seen.”

  “Jesus,” Knox groans. “She could talk football for hours.” He runs a hand through her hair.

  Ainsley giggles, winking at me and patting Knox’s chest. I have a feeling she loves fooling him. “I am a big fan—both of your dad and yours,” she tones down. “But I love rufflin’ my husband’s feathers even more.”

  Harris’s laughter booms, and I can’t help but join him. I like these people.

  “Now that my wife has embarrassed me, Sutton and I are playing at a local bar. You guys should come.”

  “That sounds like fun,” I smile over at Tate, who nods. We get the name of the bar and say our goodbyes before walking out into the frigid air.

  “Fuck, it’s cold here.” Tate’s deep voice trembles as he tightens his coat around his body
.

  I chuckle and hook my arm in his. “So cold,” I agree.

  “So, what did you think?” Tate looks over to me.

  “How about we have linner? I’m starving.” Since we went straight to the meeting, the only thing in my system is our breakfast from this morning. I let Tate sleep a little since he got home from work in the early morning while I prepared everything for our trip.

  “Linner?” Tate chuckles as we walk toward Clarke’s, one of the places Knox and Harris recommended.

  “Yeah, lunch and dinner,” I shrug.

  The dim bar and restaurant are covered in wood paneling, soft country music playing through the speakers, and quiet murmurs from people at tables. Everyone stops and stares at us, the place falling quiet.

  Tate chuckles and whispers, “Guess every small town’s the same.”

  “Tell me about it.” I smile and head to the empty table a waitress points as she passes by us with a heavy tray, the chatter picking up again when they realize we’re not giving in to their curious stares.

  Seated at a table with drinks, Tate repeats his earlier question.

  “Honestly, I’m more confused than I was before we arrived.” I frown, trying to process my thoughts.

  “It’s a lot to take in,” he nods. “First thing you gotta decide, babe, is if you want to keep makin’ music.”

  “I feel so lost, Tate.” I reach for his hand, looking into his eyes. Sadness washes over me. It’s all still so raw. “I’ve never felt this way before—indecisive, insecure, uncertain.”

  “You know what I think?” I shake my head. “I think you know what you want, but you’re letting fear get in the way of your heart.”

  He brings my hand to his lips, kissing the inside of my wrist. I’m instantly more relaxed.

  “Can you honestly tell me you could imagine your life without ever recording another song?” His eyes bore into mine.

  I think back on my life, how much music has influenced who I am, my decisions—good and bad—and my personal growth.

  “Maddy, you were born to make music and share it. However, if you’re not at that point right now, there are other ways to keep music in your life. It just depends how you want it.”

  I imagine myself at the winery, working there. I have no idea what role I’d have, but I know I have a place in the company if I ever need one. However, working Monday through Friday, a nine to five job, feels exhausting, although it’s probably less work than everything being a singer entails. Then I think back to all the times I’ve written a song, the moment where it all comes together, the joy and fulfillment I feel.

  I press my lips together, the corners of my mouth lifting. “They seem trustworthy.”

  He nods. “I’m good at reading people. They give me a good feeling.”

  “How about when I tour?” Worry about whether Tate and I can overcome this makes my stomach drop.

  “Good thing video calls exist,” he says confidently.

  “I’d miss you.” I would never ask him to leave his job to come with me. It’s too important, and it’s a part of him. This isn’t about one of us giving up our dreams for the other.

  “Me too, babe, but you’ll always come home to me.”

  My eyes fill with tears at his words. Noticing them, Tate moves to sit next to me. He wraps his arms around me in a side hug and kisses the top of my head. When I look at him, he’s smiling.

  Wiping away the tears, I ask, “We’ll survive the distance?”

  “We’ve survived a lot worse. Besides, you can come in between shows for short visits. I can go to you when you’re not too far from home.”

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  He winks. “I love you more.”

  “I still want to sleep on it. Make a decision with a clear head.”

  “I think that’s smart.” He kisses my lips right before our food is delivered.

  We eat and continue talking about the options and possibilities. The more we talk about it, the more real it becomes. Up until now, meeting with Knox and Harris was more of a formality so I wouldn’t lose the chance, but having an offer from them, talking to Tate, it feels like real life when before it felt like a hazy dream.

  “If you accept, would you want to live here or stay in Willow Creek?”

  “I’d like to stay in Willow Creek. It’s our home. Our families are there, and I’ve been away for so long. Some might think that makes the decision to move away easier, but I’ve missed it. I want to be there for my nieces, watch Miles have kids…” I trail off with a shrug.

  “It’ll mean more travel since I’ll have to come here, which is the only negative because you won’t be able to come, but we have our home there.”

  “You’re my home, Maddy.” His fingers tangle with mine, his touch tender and loving.

  I smile. “You’re mine, too, but Willow Creek has the people we love. Your job, our friends. Who knows, maybe down the road we change our minds, but for now, I pick Willow Creek.”

  Tate smiles. “Then we’ll stay in Willow Creek.”

  “You know,” I tilt my head. “It’s not just my decision to make, and you go along with it. You have a say in it as well. It’s our life, babe, not only mine.” I stare into his baby blues.

  “I know it is.” He nods more seriously now. “I’m happy in Willow Creek. You’re right that my job is there, and I love it, but change isn’t always a bad thing. I’m open to it.”

  “It’s not,” I smile. I’m lucky to have this man in my life. I’m one of the fortunate people that gets to experience real, irrevocable love. To be at this point with each other after everything we’ve been through, after breaking his heart, losing mine, and facing tribulations. We’re here together, happy and in love.

  After our meal, we finally make it to the bed and breakfast. Averly, the owner, is kind. From the sounds of it, her husband is Knox’s best friend, and she’s Harris’s wife’s best friend, so I now understand why Knox and Harris trust them so much. It’s a web of connections. Talk about six degrees of separation—less in this case.

  “If you need anything, let me know.” Averly smiles as she leaves us in the private guest cottage separate from the main house.

  “This is nice.” Tate looks around the chic area. “A full kitchen,” he comments with mischief. “Too bad I can’t cook,” he winks, bringing a laugh out of me.

  I walk over to him and notice him trying to suppress his yawn. “If you’re too tired, we can stay in. You barely got any sleep.”

  He shakes his head, his hands reaching for my hips. “Nope. I’ll sleep when we get back. I want to see this live show, get a feel for what they’re like.”

  I nod and drag him to the bedroom. “We have a couple of hours. How about a nap?” I look at him over my shoulder.

  “I can think of something else.” He smiles wickedly.

  “You’re impossible.” I laugh and find the big bed in the room. It looks plush and comfortable.

  Tate pushes me down, another yawn traveling through his lips. He’s unable to hide this one. I toss my head back and laugh. “Not tired, my ass.”

  This earns me a slap on my backside. “I do love this ass.” Tate’s eyes darken.

  When he yawns again, I set an alarm on my phone for an hour before the show and prompt him to lie down.

  “Later, babe.” I kiss his lips. “Get rest.” I wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his chest. We remain fully clothed, only removing our shoes, and Tate’s strong arms come around my body. No matter where we are, so long as I have him with me, I’ll live a happy and full life.

  Chapter 31

  Tate

  It’s been a few weeks since we got back from Everton, and Madison has officially moved in with me. After meeting Knox and Harris and seeing the performance at their local bar, Madison felt more confident in pursuing this new opportunity. I’ve been supporting her every step of the way.

  The people we met in Everton were all nice and welcoming. Sutton, the singer who told Knox ab
out Madison, was eager about working with Madison. She also has a husband who works and can’t travel with her, so it was good to meet him and talk to him. It made me understand the process a bit better and feel even more confident that Maddy and I can do this.

  Soon after we arrived back home, Madison made the decision to accept the offer with Bentley Records. Her family has been supportive as has mine, and we’re ready for this next step. As long as I have Madison by my side and in my bed, I’ll be prepared for anything.

  After the new year rolls around, she’ll start working with Knox and Harris, first from here and then going to Everton when necessary. It’s going to be a big change for us, but I know we’re solid. I don’t doubt for a moment that anything can break this apart.

  Madison is with June, wedding planning, so I can prepare for our big night. I learned to cook a meal, no ordering out tonight, and I’m finishing setting the table in the dining room. Tonight calls for a fancier setting than our daily meals at the kitchen counter.

  Nerves move through me, and I take a deep breath. I pat my pants every five minutes to make sure that the ring in my pocket hasn’t run off on invisible legs. This is the night I’ve dreamed of since I fell in love with Madison, and it was stolen from me the day we broke up.

  Once I’m done assembling the lasagna, I cover it with aluminum and leave it on the counter. June will come in while Madison and I are away and place it in the oven for me. She’s been a huge help in planning this, and I’m grateful because if I were left alone to this, I’d end up burning the meal and ordering a pizza.

  I head out to our bridge by the river, heart still hammering, the sun slowly descending on the horizon. I light the candles lining the bridge to create a walkway. My phone alerts me of a message from June saying Madison is on her way, and my nerves skyrocket. I had told Maddy to meet me here when she was done, which isn’t totally random since this is our spot, but as soon as she sees the candles, she’ll question what’s going on.