Home Again Read online

  Table of Contents

  Home Again

  Disclaimer

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  Back in Time

  Imperfect Princess

  The Unknown

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  Home Again

  ©2013

  Lisa Fisher

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  If you are reading this and did not purchase it, or it was not given to you as an ARC, you are reading a pirated copy. Please stop piracy and help the author by purchasing this book from an authorized retailer.

  Image © istockphoto.com/massonstock

  Dedication

  To the love of my life, Aaron. And my two favorite people in the world, Haven and Ella.

  Chapter 1

  I hate airports. Like, really, truly, absolutely hate them. Flying, too. If I had the choice, I would never board another plane in my life. But, when your name is Aisley Carter—superstar extraordinaire—you apparently don’t get the courtesy of making your own decisions.

  And If I had the choice, I definitely wouldn’t be here.

  Home.

  The word felt foreign to me. I had either been on tour, or recording in L.A., for the last two years. I no longer felt at home anywhere. I was never in one place for very long.

  Except, in Burden, Washington. Even fresh off the tarmac, and still thirty miles away from my hometown, it felt like too long to be here. At home.

  And I had to be here for two fucking months. Great.

  I clutched my carry-on bag close to my chest and dipped my head low, hoping I wouldn’t be spotted. That was the last thing I needed. I could just picture the headlines.

  “Troubled starlet, Aisley Carter, runs home to lick her wounds.”

  “Aisley Carter returns home—her fifteen minutes of fame are up.”

  “Aisley Carter seeks treatment at home… but will it be enough?”

  “Holy shit. It’s really you. Can I get an autograph?”

  My head popped up at the voice, and I expected it to come with a camera flash to the face. Instead, a smile formed on my lips. “Becks, shut the hell up,” I laughed, stepping forward and engulfing my best friend in a long overdue hug. “How the hell did you know I was landing? Not even my parents know that.”

  “I guess being the best friend of a rock star has its perks,” she giggled, her jet-black hair swinging as she moved.

  I raised my brows.

  “Fine. Devin told me. He asked me to pick your ass up and make sure you got home okay.”

  Of course he did. I wanted to kick my manager’s ass. I’d fire him, but apparently, that’s not my choice, either.

  Because I’m unstable. Or, that’s what they say, anyway.

  “Becks, I don’t need an escort.”

  “Good. I’m not an escort, Ais. I’m your friend.” Her blue eyes met mine with determination.

  I smirked. “Remember that time in the sixth grade, when you asked your dad what an escort was?”

  She laughed. “Oh my gosh, I thought he was going to keel over and die!”

  “He said, and I quote—‘an escort is just a person who goes somewhere with someone else.’ And then you told everyone at school your mom was your dad’s escort.”

  “Well, she escorted my dad everywhere — how the hell was I supposed to know?” Becks laughed. “I’ve missed you, Ais.”

  I linked my arm through hers as we started to walk. “I missed you, too, Becks.”

  “Oh my gosh, this is soooo gonna be like old times. Eeek! Are you, like, so excited to be home again?”

  I cringed. Excited wasn’t the word I was thinking of. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

  “Does Easton know?”

  I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Easton. I should have been expecting her to ask about him, but I hadn’t heard that name in a long time. And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that familiar fluttering in my tummy to still come along with hearing it.

  “You know we don’t talk.”

  “Well, I just thought that maybe he called—you know, because of the headlines?”

  Right. The headlines. That’s all anyone cared about. They just wanted the girl who wrote hit songs and fucked herself up. They didn’t want me. The real Aisley Carter.

  “No,” I snapped.

  “Sorry.” She withdrew her arm from mine and motioned me to follow her.

  Great, five minutes off the plane, and I’ve already pissed someone off.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s just that I haven’t spoken to East since I left. I try not to think about him.”

  “It’s fine, Ais. I get it. He’s your ex and all. It just kind of sucks, because we all used to have so much fun together.”

  Fun. Did I even remember what that felt like? I had been run ragged for too long, there was no time for fun on the road. Unless you were into the bad kind of fun, and thankfully, I managed to stay away from that, for the most part.

  “Nothing stays the same forever,” was my meager reply.

  “I guess you’re right. Here we are.” She grinned and pointed to her old blue Geo Prizm.

  “Shut up! You still have Roberta?” I patted the hood. When we first learned to drive, Becks, Easton, and I had so much fun in this car.

  “She still runs like a champ. Besides, we can’t all afford brand new beamers,” she joked.

  “Becks, if you need money I—”

  “Stop. Stop right there, I don’t want your money.” She shook her head. “It was just a joke.”

  “Okay. If you do, though—”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  “So, how’s everybody here?” I asked, jumping into the passenger side and throwing my bag in back. “Business as usual?”

  Becks started the engine and took off. “My parents are the same, still running the shop.” All Buttered Up was one of the only restaurants in our town when we were growing up. Of course, by the time we hit junior high, we had everything from Applebee’s to the generic Pho noodle place.

  “That’s good.”

  “You talk to yours often?” She glanced over at me as she got on the freeway.

  “They don’t know I’m even coming,” I admitted.

  “Aisley,” she warned. “Is that smart? I mean, just showing up?”

  “You think I want to? I wouldn’t be here if it were optional.”

  “Okay, sorry I asked.”

  “I don’t mean to be a bitch.”

  “I know. You just are.” She winked.

  “Brat.”

  She made a silly face. “So what.”

  I bit my lip and tried not to ask her about the one person I didn’t want to think about. I tried really, really hard.

  Dammit East.

  “What about Easton? How’s he doing?”

  Becks sucked in a breath. She had to know the question would eventually come up. Besides, she started it by bringing him up herself. “He’s had a hard time since his dad passed away.”

  Oh, yeah. The funeral I couldn’t be bothered with. I felt guilty for not bein
g there for Easton, and for not saying goodbye to his dad, who was like a father to me, too. But when you’re on a tour across the country, there’s not much you can do. Especially when you’re under contract.

  “I wish I could’ve made it to the funeral.”

  “East would have really appreciated it.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, but they wouldn’t let me reschedule the shows. There was nothing I could do.” That’s what I told myself, at least. Deep down, I knew I was too scared to fly home and see the guy who still held a giant piece of my heart. I was just a coward. Easton had every right to hate my guts.

  And I’m sure he does.

  “Don’t apologize to me.”

  I didn’t ask her anything else, and she didn’t offer up anything more. So the whole ride home, all I could do was wonder. Did he have a girlfriend? Would he even look at me? Could I face him? If I did—what would I say?

  Lucky for me, I had a whole forty-five minutes in the car to wonder.

  ***

  Chapter 2

  Welcome to Burden, where dreams come alive.

  I glanced at the sign as we entered town. It must’ve been painted recently, because the normally dingy looking white paint was fresh and bright. Now, if only they could get a new ‘catch phrase’.

  More like where dreams come to die.

  I shook the thought from my mind, and noticed the smaller sign that had been put up beside it.

  Hometown of Aisley Carter.

  Fuck me.

  “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  “Ha, I thought you’d like that,” Becks said sarcastically. “The Mayor put it up when you hit the big time.”

  Gag me. “Wonderful.”

  The streets were exactly how I remembered them. Perfect sidewalks lined with maple trees, and the air filled with the scent of freshly cut grass. It was creepy, yet a little comforting—a feeling I didn’t like. I didn’t want this to feel like home again for far too many reasons. I left here to live my dreams, and I wouldn’t be sucked back into this shitty little perfect town, and I definitely would not be sucked back into my past with Easton Everson.

  “Welcome home,” Becks said as she pulled into my parents’ driveway. They still lived in the two-story house I grew up in. Nothing fancy about it. Not exactly what I was used to anymore.

  “Can we go around the block again?”

  “No. You had better go beg them to let you stay here. My one bedroom apartment is way too crowded for the both of us.”

  That might have been true, but I knew she would welcome me with open arms if my parents turned me away… and they just might.

  “It’ll be fine,” I assured her. I got out, and grabbed my one bag.

  “You know, for a celebrity, you pack pretty light.”

  “Well, some stuff is being shipped over.”

  “Of course.” She laughed.

  “Wish me luck?”

  “You don’t need it.” Becks pulled me into a hug. “I really missed you, best friend. Call me if the ‘rents kick you to the curb.”

  I stifled a laugh. “Will do.”

  She jumped into her car, throwing it in reverse. As she backed out of the driveway, she yelled, “And call me tomorrow, regardless. We need some major chill time, girl.”

  I smiled and gave her a quick wave. Then, I took a deep breath and walked up the driveway, to my own version of hell. Should I knock? Or just walk in? I still had my key, I just wasn’t sure I was still welcome to use it. I could damn well count on my parents not being happy to see me, since I dodged every attempt they made to get me to come visit these last couple of years.

  Fuck it. I twisted the knob; it was unlocked, as usual. As I opened the door, the smell of meatloaf overwhelmed me. I always did love my mom’s meatloaf. “Hello? Mom? Dad?”

  I walked through the living room and into the kitchen. They were standing with their backs to me at the kitchen island, chatting. Their heads turned as I walked in, and I was so prepared for the lecture of the century.

  “Aisley,” Mom grinned, motioning me to her. “Come here, girl.”

  It almost sounded like she was calling a dog, but as obediently as a puppy I walked over to her and accepted her embrace.

  “I’ve missed you, little girl.” She pulled back, looking me over.

  “Hey, dad,” I said, over Mom’s shoulder.

  “Princess, it’s good to see you. Come give your old man a hug.”

  I did as he asked, but something told me they were expecting me. This wasn’t the surprise visit I was expecting to walk into.

  “Devin called you, didn’t he?”

  Mom looked away.

  “He’s just trying to do his job, Aisley,” Dad answered.

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Don’t get that tone, young lady,” Mom scolded. “Now, sit down. I made your favorite.”

  Of course she did, because she knew I was coming. And, more importantly, she knew why. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Nonsense, just have a little. Your mom went through a lot of trouble to make you a nice meal to come home to,” Dad said.

  Fuckity-fuck. I do not want to get into this right now. “I’ll have some later. I’m just gonna go for a walk.”

  “Devin said you were supposed to be keeping a low profile, honey.” Mom grabbed a plate anyway, and started to dish me up.

  “Mom—I’m not hungry, okay? I just got off a four-hour flight. I need to stretch my legs.” Jesus.

  She set the plate down on the table. Then she crossed her arms, and gave me the look that told me I was going to get a verbal ass whooping.

  “Aisley Marie Carter, sit your butt down and eat the damn food. Why do you think you’re here? This isn’t a damn vacation.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t want to vacation on Satan’s island, anyway, Mom!” I spat, feeling like a complete bitch the second the words left my mouth. What the hell was I saying? I wasn’t a bratty fourteen–year-old. I was a twenty–year-old woman, for Christ’s sake.

  Dad gasped. Mom instantly grabbed the plate and dumped the contents into the trash. “Fine. Do what you want. Just remember, we’re only trying to help you.”

  “Mom, I’m sorry.” But she didn’t stick around to hear my lame apology. She hightailed it out of the kitchen, and fast.

  Great. Person number two pissed off, and I’ve been off the plane less than two hours.

  “Be careful out there, Ais. At least wear a disguise, a lot of kids are home from college for the summer. And I’m glad you’re home, honey. It’s been too long.” Dad gave me a kiss on the forehead before walking out, too.

  Well, Fuck.

  ***

  It really sucked not having a car. I walked through the streets of Burden, feeling a little chilled. I forgot how testy the weather was here. It didn’t help that I was only in jeans and a t-shirt. No coat, and certainly no disguise, as my dad suggested. I wasn’t walking anywhere in particular; there weren’t many places to go in Burden. Sure, the town wasn’t tiny, but it was smaller than what I was now used to. My parents only lived five blocks from the original town center. Which, of course, that went to shit once they built a Wal-Mart and an Applebee’s on the other side of town.

  At least we still had the generic noodle place on our side of town. Despite what I told my mother, I was starving. I can never eat before I fly, because I get too nervous, so I hadn’t eaten all day. Mom’s meatloaf sounded like heaven right about now, but instead I had to go into bitch mode right when I got home.

  So noodles would have to be good enough.

  Or not. Because, apparently, the noodle place went out of business.

  Fuckity-Fuck. No generic noodles for Aisley.

  Across the street, was the local bar, The Watering Hole, so I figured what the hell? I had a fake ID, not that I ever had to use it—because when people saw Aisley Carter in their bar, they served drinks without question, and sometimes even without charge.

  It was a Sunday evening, so the place was
near empty. Perfect. I sat down at the bar, and grabbed a menu.

  “ID please,” the bartender said, walking up.

  I grabbed my fake ID out of my purse and handed it over.

  “Cindy Carlson, huh?”

  “Mmhmm.” I nodded, still studying the menu. “I’ll have a Long Island Ice Tea and an order of Nachos.”

  “It’s funny, because you look an awful lot like Aisley Carter. My daughter has posters of her all over her room, Cindy.”

  Busted. “Okay, so I’m not Cindy, but I’m trying not to blow my cover, so that’s why I use that one.” Smooth Aisley, real smooth.

  “You are twenty-one, right?”

  “Would I be in here if I wasn’t?” I retorted. I would be twenty-one in a couple months, so what did it matter?

  He either must have believed me, or didn’t give a shit, because he just shrugged, and started to mix me a drink. Sliding it across the counter to me, he smiled. “Four bucks, sweetheart.”

  “Keep the change.” I passed him a ten-dollar bill.

  “Hey, do you think I could get an autograph… for my little girl?”

  “Of course.” I knew that was coming. It always did. Not that I minded most of the time, because it came with my dream—it was a package deal. “What’s her name?”

  He slid a napkin over to me. “Karen. She’s seven, and she just adores you.”

  I scribbled my name down. “Here ya go. I’ll be in town for a while, maybe I can meet her,” I offered, taking a drink of my Long Island.

  “Serious?” he asked, dumbfounded.

  “Yeah, why not?” I shrugged. I loved meeting fans. The fact that someone loved my music enough to buy it, or put up posters of me in their rooms, or come see me play, was still unreal to me.

  “That would be great. She lives with her mom, so I only get her every other weekend. She would love me forever if she got to meet you.”

  “I’m sure she already will.” I smiled back at him. “Just could you do me a favor, and not tell anyone I’m here? Low profile, and all?”