Read Home: A Novel Online

Authors: Rachel Smith

Home: A Novel (3 page)

He reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet. “I gotta go,” he said, throwing a few bills onto the wooden bar.

I was so flustered I didn’t even know how to respond.
 
W
hy was he upset with me? I had only been in town a whole forty-five minutes!

“What is the matter with you?” I snipped.

Apparently that was not the correct question to ask at this juncture. Eeck!

The stony glare Justin turned on me was petrifying. “Are you fucking shitting me?” he asked as he leaned his muscular arm against the bar and brought his face terrifyingly close to mine.

“Um, no?” I said softly, but it came out more of a question.

“Damn it,” he hissed at me. “If you even have to ask me that after twelve goddamned years, Lil, then we are not friends anymore. I can count on my fingers – my
 
FINGERS
,” he roared, “the number of times I have spoken to you since graduation day. I haven’t seen you in person. Not once. And you change your mind one day and come crawling back home with your tail between your legs?
 
W
ell, don’t expect a fucking ticker tape parade if maybe not everyone sees your homecoming as a good thing.
 
Y
ou left town, Lil.
 
Y
ou left ME. And that’s not something I will ever forget.”

He had never spoken to me this way before. As much as it scared the crap out of me, it was also a major turn on. Standing next to the barstool now, his broad chest moved up and down from breathing so heavily. I looked him in the eyes, trying to think of the right thing to say but nothing came to me.

All I wanted to do was kiss him.

When he dropped his glare down to my mouth, my breathing completely stopped.

Without even realizing it, my tongue wet over my lips as my top teeth came down to catch my bottom lip tightly. I shouldn’t be having these feelings for Justin. Hell, I never have emotional attachment of any kind toward men anymore. I made damn sure to never make
 
T
HAT mistake twice. I knew the risks of putting my feelings out there. All it took is the wrong person to get ahold of what makes you vulnerable and they would own you. So allowing myself to feel anything for Justin was all new territory for me. I knew he would never intentionally hurt me or use me to get something he wanted, but I still would not let myself ever go there with him.

I slid my professional persona into place to block my feelings. I couldn’t be feeling like this. Bad Lily.

Bad. Bad. Bad.
 
Do not let him break the walls you’ve built.

“If I recall, I offered to fly you out numerous times and you came up with a bullshit reason why you had to stay here every time.
 
Whatever. I’ll see ya around, Justin,” I said as I slid off the barstool and grabbed my Prada bag by the handles.
 
“And for the record, it took a lot of guts for me to quit in a business that is very unforgiving.
 
Y
ou have no idea the things I’ve been through. But thanks for turning my homecoming into something all about you.” I turned my back to him and headed for the door, cool as ice, practically stomping my high heeled boots across the tile floor. I should stay and have another drink. At least try to make amends and let him know how much his friendship means to me. I knew very little about his life since high school.
 
T
he only thing I did know is that he churned something inside me that’s been dead and buried for a long time. Something that I didn’t need popping up now. Not after I’d finally made the conscious decision to live by my own terms.

There was no way I would give up the control I fought so hard to finally get back. So hard that I had to give up everything. I knew opportunities like mine didn’t come along more than once in a lifetime. I made my decision to quit and I was sticking by it. And while there were people out there who’d be willing to do whatever it takes to hold on to that celebrity status, I was no longer one of them. In the last twelve years my priorities have changed.
 
W
hat I thought was the cop out, easy road of settling down, was beginning to look more and more appealing every day. No more living in hotel rooms and having my every move documented for the world to see. No more watching what I said or making sure I didn’t slip up and do anything embarrassing in the public eye. I wanted a simple life. Quiet. Peaceful.

As I made my way to my rental car, things were becoming very clear. It was time to talk with a realtor about buying a home, put down roots, move on from the spotlight and find what the next step in my life would be. I was so engrossed in my thoughts I didn’t hear footsteps behind me.

A large, callused hand wrapped tightly around my forearm. I jumped, letting out a small yelp.

“Jesus, you’re in Glenview, Lil. Not Los Angeles,” Justin muttered.

“What, Justin?” I snapped at him, pretending to be angry to cover the hurt in my heart from his harsh words. “You didn’t cut me down enough back there? Do you need me to be sure I know my place with you? Because I have no doubt anymore.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean to pick a fight,” he started. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you.” He tugged his cap down low over his eyes. “Glad you’re back in town.”

And with that he turned and strolled across the street to his truck. No hug. No cheek kiss. No ‘hey let’s get together later.’ Nothing. He just walked away.

I blinked and watched his ass as he walked across the street. It was the sexiest thing I’d seen in years. But the part of me that had my walls built up was not going to let the part of me that wanted to strip him naked and lick every inch of his hard body win. No way. I closed my eyes to halt the tears as they started to pool.
 
T
he hurt I felt at Justin’s rejection sat heavy on my heart, but I would not cry.

I would NOT cry.

This was too much. I sat in the driver’s seat of my rented SUV, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks. I needed music. I needed to crank the radio, roll down my windows, and sing. I would pretend that little incident didn’t just happen. It was time to go see my folks and let them know my new life plan.

As I pulled away from the curb, I could no longer hold back the tears.

I began to cry.

Chapter 3

D
riving up the curvy lane of the family farm, a sense of peace washed over me. It had been way too long. 
T
he evergreens running the entire length from the road to the house had more than doubled in size. I parked in front of my childhood home under the shade of the big oak tree. My car door was barely opened when my parents came hurrying down the concrete steps to greet me.

“Aaahhhh, my baby girl!” My mama. She was the best mother in the entire world, and I swore she’d call me baby girl until the day I die no matter how old I got.

“Hey, Mama,” I said as I gave her a hug. “Good to see you, Dad.”

“Can’t believe you came all the way here and didn’t tell us,” he said. “We could’ve let everyone know and had a big old party for ya.”
 
T
hat was my Dad. Any excuse under the sun to invite the neighbors over. He and I were alike in so many ways. At least the old me, before I wasn’t able to have a random get-togethers with friends anymore.

“Ah, Dad,” I joked, “you know the helicopters circling above would probably ruin your crops, right?”

He grinned from ear to ear. “Well we certainly can’t have that happening, now can we?”

Mama grabbed my arm and pulled me inside before I barely had the chance to take a glance around the farm. Dad was already heading to the car to get my bags.

Not much had changed, except the red paint on all the buildings looked a bit faded.
 
T
he grass was always well kept, and Dad made sure to put his farm machinery away so the place didn’t look like a junk yard.

The farm house was very old but my parents had put in a lot of work to keep it looking nice. As I walked up the steps into the entryway, I was overcome with emotion. Everything seemed exactly the same, but at the same time different. Fresh paint coated the walls and new flooring had been laid in the kitchen. Considering the last time I stepped foot in this house was the morning I drove into town for my high school graduation, it was a miracle I even remembered the place at all.
 
T
he entryway was open and inviting. A dark red washer and dryer sat in the corner with all Mama’s soaps and stain removers lined on the shelf above. Inside the next door was the country blue kitchen with a worn, round dining table in the center of the room. Jars and canisters littered the countertops, ready to hold whatever goodies Mama gathered from her garden.

“You got here just in time to help,” Mama said as she tied her apron back around her hips. “The garden is putting out food so fast this summer, I work from sun up until suppertime and can barely stay ahead of things.”

I tried to stifle a giggle as I took in the ice cream pails full of green beans, cucumbers, radishes and peas covering the kitchen table. A large pot full of boiling water sat on the stove and my eyes stung from the strong stench of dill. Didn’t she know they sold this stuff in grocery stores? Her daughter was a millionaire and she still tended to her garden to stock up for the winter like their lives depended on it.

“Holy shit, Lillian,” Dad said from behind me. “How long are you staying?”

“Daniel Raftzen, do not swear in front of the kids!” Mama scolded.

“Woman, I am sixty-two years old and I can talk whatever way I want.”

Damn, it was good to be home. My parents were a hoot. Mom played the part of the little country housewife to a tee, always acting offended when Dad would cuss or drink too much beer. And Dad was the tough guy trying to constantly ruffle her feathers.
 
T
hey could bicker back and forth for hours and no one would come out the winner. It was better to watch than any movie.

“Lillian, answer me.” He looked directly into my eyes.

“Til I can find a house,” I replied with a shoulder shrug.

Mama and Dad stopped immediately and listened. I told them how I started my plan the weekend they saw my show in Des Moines six months ago. I needed to have enough time to get everything wrapped up and finished on all my obligations before I could disappear completely out of the scene. Dad was concerned I hadn’t been thorough and someone would sue me. I assured him that Mr.
 
V
angoal had taken every precaution so that wouldn’t happen. But if it did, I’d deal with it then. Mama’s worry, of course, was that I would wake up one morning and regret my decision. I had a hard time seeing that happening.
 
T
hey had spent the majority of that first year with me on the road after I made it big, so it was no mystery to them the trials of celebrity life.
 
T
he label thought it was a good idea to have them around while I got adjusted to the limelight.

After a while, Mama knew. I’d only been in the business a few years and already I was not myself. She had that motherly sense that something was not quite right. I played it off as being stressed out with all my responsibilities, but she knew. It was too soon for me to be jaded from fame. Something had happened to make me that way.

 

“You ran away,” I heard a voice say behind me. I was standing at the bar filling my tray of glasses with fresh champagne. I turned toward the voice. I already knew who it was.

“My apologies, Mr. Jefferson,” I said quickly. “But I need to get back to work.”

“Please, call me Colton.”

All I could do was nod as I put the last of the champagne glasses on my tray. He was standing so close that the scent of his cologne made my mouth water.
 
T
o be a man in position to make or break people’s lives AND be sexy as hell was just a crime.

“Okay…Colton,” I said hesitantly. “Is there anything I can get you?”

His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled slowly. “Well honey, I’m not sure there’s anything behind that bar that I’m interested in.” He paused and tilted his head to the side to catch my eyes. “But you, now that’s a different story.” His eyes slid from mine and roamed down my body. “A singer, huh? I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”

I simply nodded.
 
W
ords were caught so far down in my throat, I don’t think I could have spit them out if I tried.

He brought his gaze slowly back up my body and looked into my eyes. A small smile tugged at the corners of his perfectly shaped lips. “You are, quite possibly, the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

I was able to muster a meager “Thank you,” while continuing to stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

Reaching for a glass of champagne, he brushed his body extremely close to mine. His lips barely grazed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “See you around, Lily.”

 

“Well, you’re home now, Baby Girl.” Mama’s words brought me back to reality. “And I think once you get settled and have a good home cooked meal in your belly, things will have a whole new perspective. I’ll get a meatloaf going so we can eat at a decent time.”

I nodded and gave her a small smile. My mama. She was one of a kind. I knew she was proud of me because she told me often. I learned quickly though that my success was not what defined me to her.
 
T
o her, I was just Lillian. Her only daughter. Her millionaire daughter who she refused to let spoil her.

A few years back, I flew my parents down to Nashville for Christmas. I wanted to wine and dine them; give them a little taste of the high life. Sitting in the Stockyard Restaurant I explained how Blake Shelton had recorded his video for
 
Hillbilly Bone
 
there. I knew my Dad would get a kick out of that. After we consumed our giant steaks I handed an envelope across the table to Mama.

I had paid off their farm loan at the bank. It was officially theirs. I knew Dad had taken the loan to buy out his brothers after his parents died and left it equally to all of them. For him to pay in full, it would have taken years upon years. For me, I just nodded my head to my accountant and a check for $784,000 was cut to me by the end of the week.

They declined, of course. Mama cried and Dad just shook his head before he tore it in half and set it on the table. It was then they gave me the speech about money not being able to buy you happiness, and that Dad’s life goal was to work hard and buy that farm outright himself.

The next year I gave them each a new sweater.
 
T
otally lame. Apparently they hadn’t shared my attempted buy out with my brothers because they all sent texts giving me shit about being so rich and buying Mom and Dad a
 
sweater
 
for Christmas. I chose not to share with them that they were from Brunello Cucinelli’s fall line and cost me over three thousand dollars. Each.

On that thought, I stood from the table and grabbed my small luggage bag. My dad shouldered the rest and we headed up the steep staircase to my bedroom. Mama was already back to her garden goodies.

“Hurry and get settled,” she called as I started up the stairs. “When you get back down we’ll get to work on the green beans.”


Oh joy,”
 
I muttered under my breath.

I jogged up the wooden stairs and rounded the railing before heading to my childhood room. I’ll admit I was a little nervous to open the door to my past not knowing what to expect. I stopped in my tracks when I saw the room in front of me.

Gone was anything remotely resembling my life. Not that I expected them to keep a shrine to me, but come on. I wasn’t just Lillian Raftzen. I was LilyRae - country music superstar. I had multiple awards to my name, including seven Grammy’s and the ever coveted ‘Entertainer of the
 
Y
ear’ Award.

Man I remember the backlash of winning that damn thing.
 
T
he jealousy and backstabbing that followed almost broke me. Apparently I was ‘too young’ and hadn’t ‘been around’ long enough to appreciate the fact that I won. I was so upset. I mean, it’s not like I stood up on that stage and said ‘neener neener neener’ to all the people that I beat out. I was very humbled by the entire experience. I even choked up to the point I had to cut my acceptance speech short.

Damn industry.

Anyway, the room before me was not my room.
 
T
hey had turned my room into an actual guest room. A nice bed sat in the center under the double windows.
 
T
he warm colors of the bedspread matched nicely with the wheat colored walls.

I plopped my bags down with a thud and whipped around to face my Dad. “Where’s my shit?” I snipped.

“Settle down, sweetheart,” he answered calmly but still chuckled at me. “We didn’t just throw everything out. It’s all up in the attic.”

Well that was good news.
 
T
he last thing I needed was some sick pervert from my hometown snuggling up at night with my old bedding.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “Listen, I know things are going to be a little different with me being back here. I imagine there will be a small media storm once it hits that I’ve left the business.
 
W
e all still need to watch what we do to some extent.”

My parents had always been very good about keeping my life in Iowa private.
 
T
he same could not be said for some of my classmates.

About a year after I became famous there was some big expose’ in one of the tabloids. Some idiot from my high school class saying I was a party animal in high school that spread my legs for anyone with a dick. Of course he had a picture of me at a keg party my senior year. I was holding a beer cup in my hand and dancing with Johnny
 
T
rellis. As per usual back in the day, I was having a great time. Apparently, Johnny was getting a little frisky with his hands on my ass when someone snapped the picture. He was buddies with Justin so I didn’t feel the need to bust his chops. Plus, he was super good looking.

‘LilyRae – the sordid details of her trashy high school years’ was the caption on the cover of the magazine. Funny thing was, I only had one drink at that party. About the time that picture was probably taken Justin had some sort of fit that I ended up dealing with the rest of the night. He got in a fight, no surprise, which ended with two buddies pulling him off the other guy. His knuckles were bloody and he had a cut on his lip. He had such a temper back then with everyone, except me. I drug him away from the party and we spent the rest of the night driving around dirt roads listening to music until he calmed down and eventually took me home.

Dad situated all my luggage inside the room and was standing in the door frame.

“Glad to have you back home, Lil,” was all he said before he turned and walked back downstairs to help Mama.

I sat down on the bed and powered up my phone. It did feel good to be home. After spending that first year on the road with my parents, it was very hard to let them go. I had made sure every few months that they met me at a nearby venue or I’d fly them out to see me. I even went so far as doing the same for my brothers and their wives.

I had three older brothers; Alan, James and Michael. My sisters-in-law got a kick out of being backstage at my concerts. Especially the time my opening act was
 
T
he Dirt Road Crew
. Five hot guys. I’ll amend that – five hot tattooed musicians.
 
T
hose girls turned into cougars on the prowl. My brothers were beyond annoyed. Once they started having babies though, it wasn’t as easy for them to pack up and come party with me. So instead I started a trust fund for all seven of my nieces and nephews. Every quarter, the interest I made on certain investments was shifted into their accounts. Besides having college completely covered, it was likely they’d each have enough money to set themselves up after college with a house and car without having to deal with much, if any, bank loans.

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