by Stacey Lynn
Long Road Home
Stacey Lynn
Long Road Home
Love in the Heartland, #3
* * *
Stacey Lynn
* * *
Copyright © 2018 Stacey Lynn
* * *
Content Editing by
My Brother’s Editor
* * *
Proofreading by
Virginia Tesi Carey
* * *
Cover Design by
Shanoff Designs
* * *
Long Road Home is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously or are a product of the author’s imagination.
* * *
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reprinted, reproduced, or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review passages only.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Books by Stacey Lynn
One
Destiny
* * *
The mid-morning sun beat down on the top of my head, searing right through my black dress. Summer in Houston was unbearable, but I’d forgotten how miserable Kansas’s summers could be too. Sweat beaded at the nape of my neck, my hairline, and Toby’s hand in mine was even worse.
We were standing front and center, listening to the pastor begin my grandmother’s funeral service. I’d debated about whether or not to bring Toby back to my hometown for this, but he deserved the closure in saying goodbye to Tillie, too.
I’d prayed all morning that no one would recognize him and that no one would figure out my lies. I prayed that the long-time locals had learned some manners and how to bite their waggling tongues since I left.
But shit. Those that hadn’t, those with long memories…my name would be on the tip of their tongues. If the truth ever came out, I was going to be hated, despised more than I was before.
This time, they would take it out on more than me…they’d take it out on my boy.
We just had to get through this service. We’d stay here for a few days, long enough to get Tillie’s things in order, her house cleaned up and ready to sell. Then I’d head back home to Houston where we lived.
Somehow, I had to do all that work while avoiding almost everyone in town. The stress of it had me in tears, although it wasn’t purely from that.
I’d been crying so hard all morning I kept my sunglasses firmly planted on the bridge of my nose. It’d started as soon as we walked into Tillie’s house last night and saw the stack of papers and her funeral information left on the kitchen table.
I had no idea who left it, but as soon as I read the newspaper article, it was clear Tillie had made her plans with me in mind, knowing…or more likely, hoping, I’d return home for this. In reality, my grandmother’s funeral would be the only thing I’d return to Carlton for.
There was no viewing service at a funeral home where I’d be expected to stand in a line and thank everyone for coming.
The only service she requested and planned was a burial service at the cemetery, beyond the small Methodist church where she’d been a member of her entire life.
Tillie was my life force. My only blood relative. She took me in without question when my mom abandoned me. She did her damnedest to help me ignore the whispers and gossip and disappointed and unwelcome looks I always received from the majority of people in this town.
And good Lord, how I disappointed her, as much as it killed me to do so.
She still, always had my back. Always trusted me. Always poured out her love not only in unending measure to me, but to Toby as well.
We hadn’t seen her since her visit last summer.
I hadn’t been here, to my home, since I was eighteen.
This was where the best things happened to me before Toby arrived.
This was where the worst things happened to me.
This was where I fell in love.
This was where I destroyed that love with a cowardly lie.
Everything I was, everything I wanted to be, was left in this small town, and unfortunately, even with Tillie’s help and love, nothing had changed. I’d become exactly who everyone had predicted.
A liar. A thief. A horrible, rotten person.
Exactly like my mother.
The whispers started halfway through the service, tittering and weaving through the crowd until they made their way to my ears.
I can’t believe she came back.
There’s no ring on her finger.
How old is that boy?
Just like her momma, that girl is, always was, always will be.
Eventually those whispers filtered down to Toby’s ears. His back went straight, his jaw hardened, and his hand in mine tightened. With each passing moment, the urge to scream and claw at all the church-going Christian miserable gossips almost reached my breaking point.
Until I heard the one word that almost made my heart completely stop.
I wonder if Jordan knows she’s in town?
I hissed in a breath, my eyes darted through the small gathering to see if I recognized who asked that question. In my hand, Toby’s grip was so hard he risked crushing my knuckles.
I held him back tighter, grabbed our linked hands with my other one, covered them both, and held on tight.
“We’ll be done soon,” I whispered, glancing down at him. “Hang in there.”
“Mom,” Toby said, and I knew without looking he was gazing up at me.
He’d caught that name, too. Damn it. I should have had him stay in Houston with my friend, Allison.
He nodded. His tan face now ashen. He’d heard, and my kid wasn’t dumb.
In front of us, Pastor Emmerson continued speaking. He was giving a message on one of Tillie’s favorite Bible passages, a short teaching moment telling those not to cast the first stone.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Neither were all the moments she told me the same thing.
Never cast that stone, girl, unless you can look in the mirror and find yourself faultless and pure. Those biddies who talk too much haven’t looked in a mirror in far too long and you pay them no mind.
You are destined for great things. The good Lord tells us that.
She was wrong. And so was that good Lord she loved so much.
I wasn’t destined for anything except following in my mother’s footsteps, drug abuse aside.
“Few more minutes, baby.” I caught the tears in his eyes and his hardened jaw now jutted in my direction. “Hang in there.”
“They said—”
“I know.” I nodded and squeezed his hand. This was not the time, but his shoulders had started shaking. “Few more minutes. Okay?” I dipped my chin low so he could see my eyes, wet ones that mirrored his, above the frame of my glasses. “Please, honey.”
His nose scrunched, black brows furrowed and he jerked his head ba
ck to the pastor.
“Ashes to ashes….” The voice of the pastor trailed off, muted to my ears.
I lifted my head to turn it back toward Tillie’s casket, covered in her favorite spray of pink roses and caught my eyes on him.
He was there. The edge of the crowd, black suit, black dress shirt, black sunglasses, all black from his shoes to the top of his head.
His lips were almost non-existent he had them pressed in such a tight line.
He wasn’t paying attention to the pastor. He was staring at me. The force of his glare behind those frames was so tangible he might as well have had his hands wrapped around my shoulders, pinning me to my spot.
It catapulted me back to that summer.
That day.
The day I’d shouted at him all the lies I could conjure where he’d shaken me, that same glare, that same tight jaw that was currently on my own son’s while I threw away our future and our dreams to provide something better for myself and the boy next to me. It hit me with such force I gasped in a breath.
Toby’s head jerked to me. “What’s wrong?”
Everything. Absolutely everything was wrong.
Him. Jordan Marx. He was here. Why was he here? A tremor rolled through my body and I squeezed Toby’s hand so hard he hissed in pain.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “So sorry, honey.”
I dropped his hand and pulled him in front of me. My hands went to his shoulders.
The pastor finished.
The crowd departed. A few dropped their own single pink rose on Tillie’s casket. Most I recognized, some I nodded toward, but not a single person stepped up to me. No one offered their condolences.
Why would they? At one point, I’d been the most hated female in Carlton.
Born from trash, left like trash, raised by a woman who loved Jesus and didn’t give a hoot what people said about her. Then I’d gone and fallen in love with the golden boy from the Marx family, which only elicited more hatred flung in my direction. I figured the entire town would love me when I broke up with him and disappeared.
How wrong I’d been.
Toby and I stayed in our spot. He must have known I needed that because he didn’t fidget once. We stayed there until the crowd dispersed. Cars started pulling out of the long line in the distance, and Pastor Emmerson walked toward us, a sad, gentle smile on his face.
“Tillie will be missed by everyone who knew her,” he said.
“Thank you.”
To my side, a shadow was looming, moving closer.
Emmerson lifted his head and he grinned in that direction. “Jordan. I’m sorry for your loss as well. Thank you for all you’ve done for her.”
What the hell? What did that mean? My shoulders tightened as Jordan’s steps, now audible, grew louder. Fight or flee battled in my blood and it was pure will that kept my gaze on the pastor.
His smile turned soft as he turned back to me. “Take all the time you need here. I’ll give you some time alone with her.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, my lips barely being able to form the word. They’d gone dry as the desert and it had nothing to do with the heat.
It had everything to do with the man still standing behind us.
I’d always been able to sense him. Always knew when he was near. I’d perfected my Jordan Marx radar before he ever knew I existed. He’d been the only other person in town besides Tillie who gave a shit about me. He’d protected me, cared for me, loved me with a love harder than any I’d had since.
I’d adored him.
But right then, at my grandmother’s burial, back in Carlton, the son he didn’t know he had, in my arms, I didn’t adore him, and I most definitely wasn’t happy to see him.
I was terrified right down to the depths of my soul.
“Didn’t think you’d have the guts to come back here.”
Two
Jordan
* * *
I hadn’t meant to walk to her. As soon as I saw Destiny with her long, platinum hair pulled back into a ponytail at the base of her neck and long, trim body in a skintight black dress that skirted the tops of her knees, sleeves that cupped the curve of her shoulders and hugged her other curves perfectly, my blood immediately started racing.
I spent the time at the service with my hands curled into fists, ready to knock out the next damn person who spoke another negative word about her returning to Carlton for her grandmother’s funeral.
Good freaking hell, the people in this damn town who could never let the past go. I thought I’d done it. Hell, over the last two years the pain of walking in Tillie’s house had become so minimal I sometimes didn’t notice it until I’d left. But seeing Destiny in person? She stole my breath and my protective instincts slammed in my chest exactly like they always used to.
And then, that boy, that little boy who didn’t quite reach her shoulders had stood next to her, holding her hand. His face dipped toward the casket, shoulders occasionally shaking.
She had a fucking kid. A boy. And she had the nerve to bring him here? To my damn town? The town she’d left without a single hint of remorse? She disappeared on the only person other than me who gave a shit about her and now she thought she had the right to parade her sexy little body and her boy at the funeral like Tillie meant something to her?
Hell, she hadn’t even kept in touch with Tillie. She hadn’t bothered to check in on her or show up when Tillie needed help, getting too old and too sick to handle her house and her life on her own.
The urge to slap sense into her hit me hard and fast. Before I could stop myself, I was behind her, shooting daggers out of my eyes at her until she looked my way. Her tanned, flawless, perfect skin turned alabaster white.
So what that the first words I said to her made me sound like a dick. Ten years without Destiny Matsen in my life and she still made my blood race like she’d always done since the moment I noticed her back in school.
In front of her, she had her boy wrapped in her arms. His shoulders shook as I spoke, and trim muscles in her arms appeared as she tightened her grip on him. Time seemed to stop as I took her in, unable to help myself. For the first time since she’d ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped all over it, we were face to face.
“Jordan,” she whispered.
Her pink lips formed my name, one I’d always loved hearing her say so damn beautifully it sounded like a tortured song.
“I didn’t think you’d be here.”
The boy next to her was no longer in front of her, but at her side, curling into her. Huge light blue eyes were on me, jaw so tight he risked cracking a tooth.
“Could say the same about you.” My hands went to my hips. The only thing I could do with them, so I didn’t reach out and shake the shit out of her. This freaking beautiful woman.
My downfall. My siren.
“Where ya’ been?” I asked when she didn’t say anything.
Her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, but the small movement she made told me she looked down at the boy.
Damn. He was cute. Floppy black hair on top of his head. His arms around his mother’s waist like a death grip. Something fizzled in my brain as he looked at me with obvious suspicion in his narrowed eyes.
“We should go,” she said. Her voice sounded like she rubbed her throat with sand. “We have…things to do.”
“What’s your name?” I asked, looking back to the boy. I couldn’t pull my eyes off him. “I’m Jordan Marx. An old, friend, of your mom.”
Friend. Vomit pooled in my throat and that heat in my chest flared hard and fast. We’d been friends, but not just.
He stared at the hand I held out in front of me to shake his hand. His hold on his mother went granite. “I know who you are,” his little voice said. His chin wobbled, and his shoulders gave a violent tremble.
Destiny hissed in a harsh breath. Her arm went to his shoulders and held him tight.
Shit. I stepped back. I was being an ass to his mom and he was here, obviously ups
et about Tillie’s death.
I dragged my gaze off the boy who was staring at me. His statement was strange, but hell, maybe he was a baseball fan. I’d played in the majors a few years before blowing out my knee and heading back to Carlton. But he wasn’t looking at me with the awe of a small fan I was used to. This was…meaner.
And something about him glaring at me set me off.
“Guess everyone was right, weren’t they? You did end up like your mom.”
“Shut up. And don’t be an asshole,” she hissed. “You don’t know anything.”
She hurried around me and I was too stunned to stop her.
Too stunned at the entire day, the last forty-eight hours, hell, the last two years since I’d come back.
That still didn’t stop me from watching them, or when the boy turned back to look at me over his shoulder as Destiny hurried him to a small black SUV, it didn’t explain why I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of him.
Fucking Destiny Matsen.
She was the only girl I’d ever loved. We were supposed to beat the odds of the star-crossed lovers bullshit. From the moment I recognized her in high school, a slim and sexy pipsqueak of a thing, I wanted her. But she’d been quiet and aloof, and gave me zero opening. Then I caught her in the hallway, surrounded by four girls, getting bullied. They were giving her a hard time about something I couldn’t hear, but their body language had said enough. I did hear Destiny telling them to back off, but they didn’t. I’d stepped up to put a stop to it, so damn sick of Jenni Akers and her crew thinking they ran the damn town. Then Destiny’s hand had gone flying through the air, landing smack into Jenni’s nose and blood went flying.
