Make Believe Husband E-Book

Vivi Holt

• Herausgeber: 8th Note Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Make Believe
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 304

Beschreibung

The marriage is fake, but the feelings are real.   In the aftermath of his father's passing, Atlanta Falcons star running back Jax Green finds himself back in his hometown. He's attracting the attention from all the single women in town, but the only one he wants is Stacey Murphy. Stacey was just his best friend's annoying little sister when they were growing up, but now he sees her through new eyes and can't help but be smitten.   Stacey always had big dreams, but if she's honest, her life has been pretty boring lately. When her high school crush returns home, even dreamier than she remembered, her feelings quickly resurface. She thinks she'll never be more than the kid sister to him, but they start spending time together and she hatches a plan to help him get the space he needs: fake marriage. She's surpised when Jax takes her up on it.   Is this a crazy plan... or a perfect one?   Explore all the books in Vivi Holt's Make Believe collection: - Make Believe Proposal - Make Believe Fiancé - Make Believe Wedding - Make Believe Honeymoon - Make Believe Husband - Make Believe Marriage

Leseprobe

MAKE BELIEVE HUSBAND

MAKE BELIEVE BOOK FIVE

VIVI HOLT

CONTENTS

Praise for Vivi Holt

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

More Sweet Romance from Make Believe Series

Make Believe Marriage

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

About the Author

PRAISE FOR VIVI HOLT

No one weaves a story like Vivi Holt.

AMAZON REVIEWER

Vivi Holt is a wonderful author, her stories are full of adventure, surprises, and clean tender love. I've never read a book by her that I didn't love.

AMAZON REVIEWER

Scenery is described so well you feel like you are really there. Highly recommend to anyone.

AMAZON REVIEWER

Copyright © 2023 by Vivi Holt

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

All rights reserved.

ABOUT MAKE BELIEVE HUSBAND

He’s a professional football player, she’s his best friend’s sister. He knows she’s off-limits, but there’s something about her he just can’t resist.

When Jax Green, star running back for the Atlanta Falcons, loses his Dad he heads back to the small town he calls home to mourn. While there, he runs into Stacey Murphy for the first time since high school and he’s surprised by his attraction to her. But can he go against a promise and date his childhood best friend’s sister?

Stacy Murphy has dreams for her life, but every time she reaches for them something knocks her down. When her high school crush returns home, feelings resurface but she is certain she could never be more to him than his best friend’s little sister. And what if he breaks her heart all over again?

When Jax grows weary of all the attention he’s attracting from the single women in town Stacy hatches a plan to help him get the space he needs. Perhaps a fake marriage could be the answer to both their problems.

CHAPTER1

Jax Green’s breath fogged the crisp October air, his sandy blond hair spiked with sweat and his blue eyes gleamed as he ran.

“Keep those knees up!” Coach Jackson’s shout could be heard clear across the field, echoing in the air. Usually they’d be in the gym this time of the morning lifting weights, but Coach said he wanted to do something different today, and Jax was all for it. He loved getting outside and enjoying the sunshine.

A tire drill was next, and Jax stepped up the pace. He was happy with how his fitness had progressed since joining the Atlanta Falcons over a year ago. This was his second season on the team, and now that he was off the bench, it had been the best season of his life.

“Jax, come over here.” Coach’s eyebrows sloped over his narrowed eyes like hungry black caterpillars.

Jax jogged over, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Yes, Coach?”

“Put a bit more hustle into it. I want to see you nailing those drills tomorrow.”

Jax couldn’t help grinning at hearing the words from the famous Tal Jackson’s lips. He remembered the exact moment he’d learned he’d been signed as an undrafted free agent by the Falcons, the team he’d rooted for since he was a kid. He’d been down ever since being cut by the Buffalo Bills in his first training camp after college, unsure of whether he should keep pursuing his NFL goals. He’d served as a concierge for a cruise line for a while and enjoyed it, but no kid grew up dreaming of working on a cruise ship.

Then his agent called with the good news, and he’d worked his tail off in training camp and made the Falcons’ regular season roster. He’d returned punts for a while, then got into the starting lineup after a couple of other running backs were injured and made the most of it – 600 yards rushing, 200 receiving and five touchdowns in a half-season’s duty. He even got a third-place vote for Offensive Rookie of the Year. If he could keep up his productivity, he might be looking at a Pro Bowl berth this year.

Still, he felt as though he’d rushed from one crazy moment to the next, with no time to stop and take a breath. The past eighteen months had been a whirlwind. His dream of becoming a pro football star had finally come true. Now he needed to keep it. “Yes, sir.”

Coach scratched his chin and his brow creased, caterpillar eyebrows squirming in place. “I like what you’ve been doing, Jax. Keep it up and you’ll be my star running back for a long time.”

Jax walked away, still grinning. He was looking forward to next Sunday’s game against the Green Bay Packers, and had never felt fitter or stronger in his life.

“You’re on fire,” said Wallace Johnson beside him. Wallace was the second-string quarterback – he knew what it meant to train, sweat and hanker for game time but never get to play, and they’d commiserated a lot the previous year before Jax got into the starting lineup.

Jax nodded. “Thanks, Wallace. It’s hard to wait, but everyone has their moment. You will too.”

Wallace shook the sweat from his black hair, smiled and arched an eyebrow. “I hope so. Ready to do some catchin’?”

Jax grinned and began to run. He could never be satisfied with where he was – every week he trained harder, pushed farther, worked more than any of the other players on the team. He had every intention of staying on top for as long as he could.

By the time practice was over, he was tired but invigorated. After the first training session in Bills camp, he’d thought he might collapse – even a grueling four years with the University of Georgia Bulldogs hadn’t prepared him for that. But now he’d gained stamina, muscle mass and flexibility and it made all the difference.

“Jax!”

He wiped his face with a towel, the steam from the showers fogging the mirrors on the locker room wall so all he could see was shadows. “Hey, Wallace – be done in a minute.” He threw on his clothes, slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and headed outside.

He found Wallace talking to one of the trainers. Wallace saw Jax, excused himself and jogged to meet him. “Hey, you did great today. You have those routes down.”

Jax chuckled. “It went well. And the rest of the team’s on point. I think we’ve got a good shot at upsetting the Packers.”

Wallace grinned. “Good to hear. Oh, another thing – Sophie made me promise to ask you to come over for dinner tonight.” Wallace had married his high-school sweetheart, taken her with him to Alcorn State, and already had two children. He was well established as a family man when most players his age were still trying to pick up girls in bars.

“Thank Sophie for me, but your kids are gonna think I’m part of the family if you keep taking me in like a lost puppy.”

Wallace laughed and slapped Jax on the back. “You are part of the family. No pressure – I’m sure you have plenty of offers – but if you’re looking for a home-cooked meal, you’re always welcome.”

“Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I think I will come over. Billy has that new Nerf gun he’s been begging me to try out for weeks.”

The two men walked toward the parking lot. The musk of the locker room was replaced by the fresh scent of a brisk fall day, and the chatter of football players gave way to the hum of traffic and the buzz of a twin-engine plane overhead.

“I wish I could take a couple of days to fly back home for a visit.” It had been almost eight months since Jax had been back in Ardensville, North Carolina, and homesickness was wearing on him. He’d never missed home so much before, but there was a nagging feeling he should go see his family, spend time with them.

“Good luck with that in mid-season,” replied Wallace.

“I know. I should’ve gone before training camp, but I was distracted.”

“You were distracted by the trip to Hawaii with that girl … what was her name?”

Jax groaned. “Tiffany.”

“Yeah, Tiffany.”

“We were just friends.”

“Now you say that.” Wallace cocked his head. “Maybe after the Thanksgiving game, Coach will give us some time off.”

“Maybe.” Jax sighed. “It’s just that all of a sudden I feel like visiting home. Bad timing, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling.”

His pocket buzzed, and he pulled out his phone and put it to one ear, holding it in place with his shoulder while he pointed his key fob at his Range Rover to unlock it. “Hello?” There was quiet on the other end of the line. He grabbed the phone and looked at the screen – June. His sister must have butt-dialed him, since she wasn’t making a sound. He held it closer to his mouth and spoke louder. “June? Hello?”

There was a sob.

“June?” His voice softened. “What’s wrong?”

“Jax … it’s Daddy.”

He drew a quick breath, his head swimming. “What happened? June, what is it?”

Wallace watched him, brow furrowed in concern.

“He died, Jax. Heart attack. It was really sudden. He seemed okay this morning before he left for work. Beverly found him at the church office, but it was too late.”

Beverly Hampton, his father’s secretary, would have done everything she could, but maybe if he’d been there … Jax couldn’t process what his sister was saying. His father was young, fit, strong … this couldn’t be right. She must be mistaken. “Are you sure?”

She sobbed again. “Mom and I came to the hospital right away. We didn’t even get to say goodbye …” Her crying was muted, as though she’d put a handkerchief over her face.

Jax’s mouth was open, but he couldn’t speak. This wasn’t right – Dad should’ve had much more time. He wasn’t even a grandpa yet. And Jax hadn’t seen him in months … why hadn’t he visited home more in the offseason? He should’ve spent time there instead of goofing off with his team mates.

He became aware of Wallace’s hand on his arm. “Jax? Something wrong?”

He nodded. “My dad …” His throat tightened, then he spoke to June again. “I’m coming home, June, first chance I can get. I’ll call you from the airport to let you know what time I’m getting in.” She mumbled something unintelligible, and he told her he loved her before hanging up the phone and shoving it back in his pocket.

Jax stood still, staring at his SUV, his mind blank. He felt as though he’d stepped into another reality. Unreasoning anger ripped through him – someone should’ve done something to help. If only he’d been there.

“Can I do anything?” asked Wallace.

Jax shook his head, a lump in his throat. “No, thanks. I have to get home, call Tom and then pack.” Tom Dimitroff, the Falcons’ general manager, would hopefully put him on the inactive list for the week for “personal reasons.” Usually that was for a player going into drug rehab, but the death of a parent would qualify. The Falcons were good about things like that, better than a lot of teams. Right now he had to concentrate on getting back to Ardensville to face what had happened. Face his mother. The thought made his breath catch.

“Okay. Call me when you get there? Sophie and I will be praying for you.”

Jax nodded, climbed into his car and pressed the starter, his chest tight and his thoughts in a spin. Dad was his rock, the person he turned to whenever he needed to talk through a crisis, or wanted advice or prayer. Now what? God, help me through this, he prayed silently.

He turned the wheel and steered the vehicle out of the lot and toward his apartment. He was operating on autopilot, his mind elsewhere. When was the last time he’d seen Dad? What had they said to one another? It had been February – they’d watched college basketball together and talked casually. But had they discussed anything meaningful? What if his last words had been flippant, thoughtless?

Now Jax had so many things he wanted to say to his father, and it was too late.

CHAPTER2

“Those tables aren’t going to bus themselves!” shouted Marcie Hardman, a lock of her hair falling out of her hairnet. She pushed it back and reached for the spatula to flip the burgers that had been grilling for what Stacey considered a little too long.

Stacey Murphy sighed and nodded. “Got it,” she called back. Holding a square bucket against her hip, she used her free hand to load dirty plates, mugs and silverware into it.

Milly Hardman, Marcie’s daughter and the heir apparent to the Smokehouse Grill, eyed her, an oily strand of hair over one eye. “Get to it, Stacey,” she muttered, then smirked. Stacey and Milly were the same age. At school Milly had been the quiet underachiever who sat in the back corner, examining her black nail polish and listening to whatever emo band was popular at the time. Ever since Stacey started at the diner, Milly had taken it upon herself to order Stacey around as if pursuing some kind of vendetta. Stacey had no idea why.

“Miss?” A new face turned toward her. He looked like a truck driver, likely on his way through town. The diner was close enough to I-40 to attract its share of truckers. Some were nice enough, others weren’t.

She forced a smile, her face aching with the fatigue of having to brighten everyone else’s day when her own was typically dull. She’d taken this job for temporary income until she got that scholarship to Duke’s engineering program. But she didn’t get it, and hadn’t come up with a plan B. So years later, she was still stuck at the Smokehouse, wearing the same grease-stained yellow uniform with the too-short skirt and too-low neckline. “Yes, sir?”

“Can I grab a coffee refill over here, honey?”

She nodded, her nostrils flaring at the term of endearment. She hated when anyone called her “honey.” It reminded her of her grandfather saying it, and how it was usually followed by his boot in her rear. Biting her tongue to hold back any retorts, she lugged the bucket into the kitchen, pushing the swinging door open with her back.

“How’s it goin’ out there?” asked Phil Owens, the cook who at that moment was taking a break to drink a pint of coffee with a half pint of cream in it. He liked to joke that was the only way to take the beverage, but she liked her coffee hot and in smaller doses.

“Fine, I guess. Full house, and I’m tired from that double shift yesterday. But I’m almost done. Then, I’m headed home to have a long hot soak with some scented bath salts.”

Phil nodded and gulped more coffee. “I hear ya. I think I’ve ‘bout cooked every egg in the whole state of North Carolina this mornin’.” He chuckled, finished the coffee and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Well, guess I’d better get back to it.” They both knew Marcie would be on his case if he took longer than ten minutes for a break, especially with so many customers waiting. Marcie filled in at the grill while he was out, but she didn’t like cooking, and the customers didn’t like her doughy waffles and greasy eggs either.

Stacey stacked the dishes in the sink for the dishpig to wash, set the empty bucket on the floor by the door and headed back out into the diner, grabbing the coffee pot on her way to where the trucker sat. He was shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth as though they’d disappear if he took too long. She poured the coffee into his almost-empty mug with a smile.

He swallowed and smiled back, a glint in his piggish eyes. “Thanks, honey.”

“You’re welcome.” She swallowed her agitation and turned to go.

“Ya sure are pretty, ya know that?”

He was old enough to be her father. Perhaps that’s how she could take it, as though it was a fatherly offering. Nothing sleazy about it. Sure. “Thank you,” she replied stiffly.

“Maybe ya and I could get together when you’re done?” He winked.

Bile rose in her throat. “No. I don’t date customers.”

“Ain’t askin’ ya to marry me, just grab a bite to eat or somethin’. Or perhaps I could grab a bite of ya?” He chuckled.

The coffee still poised steaming in one hand, she rolled her eyes, doing her best to ignore his last remark. “Thanks for the offer, but I work in a diner. Food’s the last thing I want when I leave this place.”

“I wasn’t thinkin’ of food.” That laugh again that sent a shiver up her spine. “We could work somethin’ out, I’m sure.”

Her head began to spin as anger surged through her veins. When his hand landed on her rear and squeezed she couldn’t take it any longer. With the coffee held high so as not to spill, she slapped her other hand against his bearded cheek with as much velocity as she could muster in her five foot four, one-hundred-and-twenty-pound frame.

His eyes widened, and he pressed his palm to the reddening skin. “What’d you do that for, you little — ”

“Stacey!” Marcie screamed over the din.

Just great, of course Marcie would happen to witness the one and only time in the course of her entire waitressing career that she’d slapped a customer. Maybe she’d see Stacey’s side of things once she had a chance to describe what’d happened.

Her boss loved to gripe, often at full volume in front of the patrons. Half the time it was about something Milly or one of the other waitresses had done, but in her eyes Milly could do no wrong – and seemingly Stacey could do no right.

Stacey marched over to Marcie, whose face had turned a shade of red that was downright scary. “Yes?”

Marcie pointed toward the door that led out back, then set her hands on her hips. She wanted to talk in private this time? This really wasn’t going to be good.

“Yes, ma’am.” Stacey set the coffee pot back on the burner and headed through the door. It wasn’t her fault, she’d been accosted by that lout, and Marcie would see it her way in no time at all, if she’d just let her explain.

She spun on her heel and found herself face-to-face with Marcie. “I can explain…”

“I don’t want to hear your explanations,” hissed Marcie as she slammed the door shut. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

Stacey’s eyebrows arched high. “What’s wrong?”

“I told you a dozen times about money going missing from the till,” Marcie snarled. “I finally discovered who the little thief is.”

“Well, that’s good.” But why was she so angry about it? Did she think Stacey knew who it was all along and had hidden it from her? She honestly had no idea. Well, she had seen Milly take money from the till whenever she liked, but had assumed Marcie had told her to for some diner-related expense or another. They were mother and daughter, after all.

“It’s you!” spat Marcie, her nostrils flaring.

“Me? No!”

“Don’t bother trying to defend yourself – Milly saw you do it. Caught you red-handed! I want you to get your stuff and leave – you can bring the uniform back tomorrow after you wash it.”

“What?” Stacey’s brow furrowed. Surely Marcie couldn’t mean she was fired. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Milly was clearly lying. “I never took a cent from …”

“Are you calling my daughter a liar?!”

“Yes! She is lying! It’s her. I’ve seen her take money from the till dozens of times. I thought you knew about it.”

“Don’t try to blame Milly for your crimes. You heard me – you’re fired! And don’t come crawling back asking for your job, ‘cause this was the last straw. You were late twice last week and didn’t give a reason why. Not to mention how many times I’ve had to tell you to make sure the tables stay clear of dirty plates and cups. You know I like a tidy diner.”

Stacey’s mouth fell open. She had been late twice – by three and five minutes, respectively – but Marcie hadn’t said a word until now. She also worked late twice in the last week when Milly decided she was tired and cut out early. As far as the dirty dishes, she’d worked hard on that – and had to, since Milly rarely bussed her own tables. “But … I …”

“I don’t want your excuses. I won’t keep a thief on staff – I’ve had enough.” Marcie’s face was purple and blotchy now.

Stacey’s throat closed. She needed this job, lousy as it was. Even with it, she could barely afford her apartment at Mrs. Welling’s place. But it gave her somewhere to live, and in a nice neighborhood too. After she’d left home it was all she could afford. “Please, Marcie … don’t …”

“You heard me – scram!”

Stacey exhaled slowly, doing her best to keep her emotions in check. She wouldn’t let someone like Marcie Hardman see her upset. It was a setback, but she’d handled worse before and she would again. The one thing that really chapped her was how long she’d worked for someone who didn’t care two pennies for her. She untied her apron, silently handed it to Marcie and walked back into the diner.

As she picked up her purse and coat in the break room, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Phil staring at her, his face puckered as though he was trying not to cry. The tuft of gray hair he usually combed neatly over his bald patch stood straight on end. She sighed. “You heard?”

“I heard. It ain’t true, is it?”

“Of course not. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Bye, Phil.”

He waved silently, then let his hand fall to his side.

On her way out the front door, she glanced at Milly, who watched with a smug smile. She resisted the urge to slap it off her face, after all she was on a roll. Instead, she left slipping her purse strap over her shoulder. Onward and upward – that’s what Dad used to say when he was alive and living with her, Brad and Momma. Back when things made sense and she still had dreams, before her big brother left home to start his real-estate business, before she’d stormed to face the world alone out after another blow-out argument with Momma.

As she walked through town, she studied the people she passed. Most didn’t make eye contact, but the ones who did smiled. A few even said hello. She knew a lot of the locals, but Raleigh was a big city and the Research Triangle was close enough to the small hamlet of Ardensville to keep foot traffic high along the main thoroughfare. Home was a twenty-minute walk away, an easy mile, and there weren’t too many people on the way that she didn’t know at least in passing.

Aggie Welling’s house was on the opposite edge of town from the diner. Renting a room above her garage had its perks – she usually managed to score a couple of dinners a week, since Aggie loved to cook and there was no one else for her to cook for other than her weekly bingo group. Stacey found herself the recipient of various meals, baking and culinary experiments – great, considering how little she felt like cooking after she got home from work.

But what would she do about rent now? It wasn’t as though she had much left over at the end of the month after paying rent and bills. She’d been trying to save, but her beat-up old Corolla had needed new tires and an oil change last month. The month before, she’d had to replace her vacuum; the one before that she’d helped get her mother out of yet another scrape. She had good intentions when it came to her finances, but there was always something to outlay for. Maybe Aggie would let her pay rent a little late this month – after she found a new job. If she did.

She turned the corner onto Oak Lane, shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She loved the street where Aggie lived. Reaching trees lined both sides of the wide country road. Regal old houses set back from the street languished in big, grassy yards like old gentry surveying their estates. If only she’d been able to grow up on a street like this instead of in a trailer park – her life would’ve been so much different.

She glanced at Aggie’s front yard and pulled up short. A red and white square sign sat on top of a raw wood stake, reading FOR SALE, with the name and number of a realtor below. Was Aggie selling? She’d mentioned something about moving to Florida a few times in the past, but Stacey always assumed she wasn’t serious. She’d been saying it for years.

She ran the last dozen steps past the sign, up the stairs and knocked on the front door, then leaned against the frame, her teeth chattering. When the door opened, she blurted, “Aggie, what’s going on? Why is that sign in the yard?”

Aggie smiled. “Hello to you too.”

Stacey shook her head with a half smile. “Sorry. Hello, Aggie.”

“And to answer your questions, I decided it’s time for me to finally move to Florida. I’ve been talking about it so long, I bet you never thought I’d do it.”

Stacey’s eyes widened. “You’re right about that. What brought on this sudden desire for sunshine and surf?”

“You know my son lives down there – he got a new job!” Aggie’s eyes glowed and she clapped her hands in front of her cardigan.

Stacey’s stomach clenched. “Oh.”

“Yup, he’s getting close to retirement and won’t be traveling for work anymore, so he wants me to move down there to join him and his family. He’s going to be a grandfather soon – can you believe it?”

Stacey shook her head. “No, I sure can’t.” Aggie always seemed younger than her years, but she had to be well into her eighties.

“And he’s going to help me buy a condo just down the road from their house.”

“It sounds really great, Aggie. I’m happy for you.” Stacey’s heart hurt. As much as she liked to act like nothing bothered her, the thought of losing the kind old lady who’d taken her in and cared for her more than anyone had before was more than she could bear.

“And, there’s something else you’ll never believe.”

Stacey arched an eyebrow. “Santa Claus is real.”

Aggie giggled and touched Stacey’s arm gently. “You’re a hoot! No, not that. I went down to the realtor’s yesterday to get the paperwork signed, and when they brought the sign by this morning, there was a couple with them who are looking to buy their first house. They’ve already made an offer – isn’t that fantastic?”

Stacey couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Oh.”

Aggie’s smile faded. “Don’t worry sweetheart, you’ll find another place. I’m happy to give you a reference. But I’ll sure miss you.”

“Thanks, Aggie. I’ll miss you too, but I’ll be fine. I’m glad you get to live with your family after all this time.”

She gave Aggie a hug, then trudged down the stairs.

“Oh and honey?”

She glanced back over her shoulder. Aggie tugged her sweater tighter around her thin frame. “You really should wear a coat out. It’s cold today.”

Stacey nodded. “I will, thanks Aggie.”

She strode around the side of the house. As soon as she was out of the old woman’s sight, she let her feet drag along the ground. How could this be happening? First she lost her job, and pretty soon she’d have nowhere to live. What could she do?

God, please help me. I don’t know where to turn. Prayer always helped her feel better, and reminded her Who was in control. Still, she’d feel better knowing where she’d stay until she could find another place to work.

In her apartment, she slumped onto a worn gray loveseat and tugged her cell phone from her uniform pocket. She shivered, then remembered her skimpy outfit. She hurried into the other room, changed into a long-sleeved shirt, sweatpants and a thick wool sweater, tossing her waitress outfit in a corner. She made a mental note to wash it and return it tomorrow, then wondered if she should even bother – what were they going to do, fire her?

Now more comfortable and warming up, she on the loveseat again and dialed.

“Murphy Realty. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Brad.”

“Hey, sis.” He sounded out of breath. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m out for a run.”

“Really? Who’s chasing you?”

Brad chuckled. “Har har. I’m jogging every day now – have to keep myself from getting swivel-chair spread. So what’s going on?”

“Say, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.” Stacey sighed. “I need somewhere to sleep for a few nights.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Brad’s voice deepened with concern.

“I got fired.”

“What?! Marcie fired you? What for?”

“She says I stole money from her.”

“That’s ridiculous – you’d never do something like that!”

“I know – it’s all Milly’s fault. She’s had it in for me the whole time I worked there. She’s been taking the money, but of course her mom’s not going to believe that.”

“You could go to the police.”

“Yeah, but I can’t prove anything. Really, I just want to put the whole thing behind me. Forget all about the Smokehouse Grill.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Brad’s calm tone soothed her frayed nerves.

“And to add insult to injury, Aggie just told me she’s selling the house. She already has a buyer.”

“I’m sorry, sis. You know there’s a law that says she has to give you at least thirty days’ notice.”

Stacey sighed again. “I know, but I’m not going to hold her to that. She’s always treated me kindly – I don’t want to seem ungrateful. And anyway, what does it matter if it’s now or in thirty days? I’ll be homeless one way or the other until I can find another job.”

“No, you won’t. You can sleep on my couch. Just don’t get used to it,” he teased.

She laughed. “Thanks, Brad, you’re a life saver.”

“And it might be time to give my offer some thought again.”

Stacey sighed. “I don’t know … oh, never mind. I guess I can give being a real estate agent another try. It’s a good job and you’re a kind brother for offering it to me. I guess I should’ve taken you up on it a year ago when I took the realtor exams.”

“I get it. You wanted something different for your life. But there’s nothing wrong with letting family help you out sometimes. And it doesn’t mean you have to give up on your dreams, but this way you can sock away some money for them – and do it from the comfort of your own apartment.” He chuckled.

“Thanks, Brad.” Stacey wrapped up the call and set her phone on the old coffee table. She glanced at the cardboard Smokehouse Grill coasters shoved under one leg to keep it stable, rolled her eyes and glanced around the apartment, her head leaned back against the couch.

Every surface in her living space held some construction project she’d undertaken over the past few years – a half-built replica of New York’s Chrysler building on the round dining table, a miniature Eiffel Tower on the kitchen counter, a plastic naval submarine on her dresser. Her dream of becoming an engineer was something she’d clung to, even without the money or scholarships to make it happen. Frustration had fueled her projects — one model kit after another.

She stood with a scowl, yanked an empty trash bag from beneath the sink and pushed the Eiffel Tower into the bag. The skyscraper and submarine followed, and soon she’d shoved every last project into the bag. She lugged it out to the curb and set it by the side of the road, ready for next morning’s pickup.

Stacey’s throat ached, and she wiped away a tear that threatened to spill from the corner of her eye. No more looking back. It was time to let go of her dreams, to forget about her past. She would be a realtor, not an engineer. She sobbed and scurried back inside, hugging herself tight.

CHAPTER3

The Uber driver studied Jax in the rear view mirror. “Have you been to Raleigh before?” he asked in a soft Indian accent.

Jax nodded. “I grew up here.”

The man grinned. “Oh, so you are coming home then.”

Jax half-smiled. “Yep.” He stared out the window, watching the houses flash by. It had been almost two years since he’d lived in North Carolina – did it still count as home? He knew it did. It wrapped him up like a warm blanket as soon as he got off the plane. There was something about Ardensville that set his heart right again, gave him perspective. He could be himself. People knew who he was and liked him – the real him, not just the Jax Green on their television screens.

With a sigh he leaned back against the seat and let the lilting music from the radio wash over him.

It wasn’t long until they pulled into his family’s driveway. He climbed slowly out of the car, paid the driver and carried his bag to the front door, then stood immobile for a few moments. What would he find? How could the house still stand when his dad wasn’t inside?

He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned the knob. It wasn’t locked – it never was when someone was home. Ardensville was a safe place to live and a great place to grow up. He glanced over his shoulder down the long street where he’d ridden his bike a thousand times with neighborhood children. He’d lost touch with most of them since leaving for UGA. What were they doing now?

He pushed against the door with his shoulder to open it – something was blocking it. He frowned and pushed harder, scraping whatever it was on the tile floor. He slid through the narrow opening, set his bag on the ground and found the obstruction: a mammoth collection of casserole dishes, cakes and flower arrangements lining one wall of the entryway. “Mom,” he called softly.

No answer.

“Mom?” He walked into the kitchen and scanned the living area. No sign of her. He heard the faint sound of music playing upstairs. He jogged to the stairs and took them two at a time. Past his bedroom, he found his sister’s door shut. He knocked softly. “June?”

The door swung open and she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. “Jax! I’m glad you made it.”

He held her close. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Where’s Mom?”