Remembering Home

By J.M. Adele

How do you forget your first love?
The girl that haunts your dreams.
The one that no other woman could ever live up to.
The one you left behind...

It takes a tragedy to wake Aiden Thomas from his stupor, prompting him to return to his home town. Nothing could've prepared him for what he finds when he gets there. His life, as he knows it, is about to change. It was time to stop hiding behind his lens.

Angel Murphy had her heart ripped away when she was a teenager. She survived the toughest times of her life, with the help of her family. Fifteen years later, after another cruel blow, she is again scrambling to adjust. Angel doesn't know how much more she can take, when the man she never thought she’d see again returns.

Can she trust him to stay this time, especially when he discovers the secrets he left behind?

*Recommended for readers 18+ due to mature content.*

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.M. Adele
• Release date: Oct 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310495274

J.M. Adele

Author of smart, sexy characters, J.M. Adele loves to flit between the dark and light sides of romance. Somewhere along the way an almost constant procession of imaginary characters settled into her thoughts and she picked up a pen to share their stories.She lives in Queensland with her three greatest loves, her children. When she’s not writing or being a mum, you might find her hiking up a mountain, singing in the car when nobody is looking, or curled up with a good book.

Book preview

Coming Home Series

Book One

J.M. ADELE

REMEMBERING HOME

Copyright © 2015 by J.M. Adele

All Rights Reserved

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner, without permission or sponsorship, and with acknowledgement of their trademarked status, and trademark owners.

Edited by Eeva Lancaster

Cover Design by Book Flare Publishers

Formatting by Book Flare Publishers

Smashwords Edition

Coming Home Series

Shattered Home—a Novella

Remembering Home—a Novella

Finding Home

Home Sweet Home—a Novella

Sensing Series

Sensing You

Convincing You

Indulging You

Bloodlust Series

Ashes and Dust

Ember and Flame

Bone and Blood

To all the authors who’ve gone before.

Thanks for being courageous and showing me that it’s possible.

Chapter One—Self-Hatred

Chapter Two—Whiskey Eyes

Chapter Three—Normal

Chapter Four—Unfinished Business

Chapter Five—Shower Steam

Chapter Six—Sleepovers

Chapter Seven—Bacon and Eggs

Chapter Eight—Harvey’s Auto Shop

Chapter Nine—Ladders

Chapter Ten—Letters

Chapter Eleven—Plastic Trap

Chapter Twelve—Lawnmower Man

Chapter Thirteen—Drive-in

Chapter Fourteen—Hey There, Daddy

Chapter Fifteen—Passed Out Drunk

Chapter Sixteen—Permanent Address

Acknowledgements

Excerpt from Finding Home

About the Author

Self-Hatred

Self-hatred was the purest thing Aiden Thomas had felt in years. He stood in the bathroom of his hotel room, harsh, fluorescent light casting unforgiving shadows over the angles of his face. His shoulders wrenched up and down as each breath grew harder to drag in. The face reflected in the mirror twisted with shame and a fierce disgust. Black eyes bored into the mirror and back again in an infinite battle of wills and intimidation.

The news he’d discovered ten minutes ago was the baseball bat to the head he needed. A wakeup call after more than a decade of numb oblivion, isolation and ignorance. Aiden had let everyone down, including himself. He’d never see Hank Murphy again because he’d been behaving like a chicken shit, little boy. His teeth made a horrible grinding sound as he clenched his jaw.

The urge to destroy proved irresistible. He pounded his fist into the grim reflection, the shattering of the glass deafening in the small space. A satisfied smile crossed his face as he inspected his shredded knuckles. Aiden flexed his hand watching red spill down between his fingers, coloring the shards in the sink. It hurt like a bitch, and it felt fucking awesome.

The pussy in the mirror was gone. Aiden Thomas was awake and determined to make things right.

_____

Almost a day later, he stood deliberately separate from a huddle of black sorrow, listening to the somber tones of a man of God eulogizing and offering prayer. A summary of the life of a man who meant so much to him, the one a young Aiden wished had been his real father.

The intermittent breeze carried away the murmurings of the minister, stirring the rich smell of freshly dug soil mixed with the more delicate scent of the floral adornment on the coffin. He sucked in the smells and the moisture in the southern air, grateful for some relief from the heaviness of his guilt. Beneath a makeshift bandage, his throbbing hand reminded him of the task ahead.

Aiden surveyed the crowd, recognizing most of his fellow mourners, although they were much older now. As a boy, he’d thought of them as his family until his father had disabused him of the notion, called him a foolish leech, and taught him that the only person he could truly rely on was himself.

He belonged to nobody.

All utter bullshit. He had belonged to Hank, his true father in every way that counted. He knew that now. Now that it was too late.

Jesus, Hank. I’m so sorry.

He set his jaw to prevent an agonized shout from escaping, as his eyes locked on the coffin. He forced them away, tilting his head side to side to loosen his neck. The pain from flexing his fingers allowed him to center his torment as far away from his heart as he could get it. It was welcome relief, however brief.

Aiden absorbed the poignant words, and looked around the gathering once again. A petite woman across from him drew his eyes. The only points of color were her red lips, and the green leaves and stem of a white rose visible through a curtain of raven hair. Each tear caught on the corner of her mouth before it trickled down her chin and fell to the earth. Her gloved hands clasped those of a fellow mourner’s, obviously her close friend. They presented a striking contrast, a dark crown beside platinum blonde. The women rocked slightly side-to-side, alternating between supporters and supported.

Something about the ebony-haired beauty pinched at his distant memories, imploring him to remember a familiarity long forgotten. Aiden’s feet wanted to move of their own accord, to circle the huddle to get to her with some amount of stealth. He locked his knees refusing to bow to their demand, dropping his gaze to take in the grass beneath his feet. That’d be a good start. Embarrassing himself the first time he’d seen these people in fifteen years, and at the funeral of one of the town’s most loved. His shoulders dropped as he pushed a long breath out, before raising his eyes once more.

The woman stood trembling, staring straight at him, barely holding it together. She was beyond beautiful, although agony etched her features. Her distressed state tugged at his protective side more than it should have, drawing the corners of his mouth down. Her big, doe-shaped eyes blinked through her tears, draining more rapidly now. Mouth quivering, her distress seemed to grow as she watched him. Jesus, she looked like she was going to collapse.

Aiden’s right foot lifted and he stumbled forward slightly, catching himself before he could go any further. A prickle of awareness caused his stare to shift, taking in the narrowed gaze of her friend as she gripped onto her companion around the waist. He schooled his features, and quickly turned away. What the hell did he think he’d be able to do for her anyway?

Once again facing the minister, he joined in the last prayers for his dear friend. Rest in peace, old man, he said to himself, letting his grief wash over him once again. The minister finished the service and the coffin was lowered. A tepid breeze carried some dry leaves to join his friend in his final resting place in the ground.

Aiden watched as the woman broke away from her friend to throw a folded piece of paper and the rose onto the coffin. She made her way straight to him, stopping when the toes of their shoes tapped together, sending a jolt of adrenaline straight into his blood stream. He looked down at her leaning his shoulders away. The fuck? The closeness was jarring. Did she recognize him?

Her face tipped up, presenting him with her tear-stained beauty once more. Aiden pulled out a hanky from his jacket and offered it, needing to comfort her somehow.

Thank y— A sniffle and a gasp cut off her words. … ou.

Sorry for your loss. The rumble of his voice sounded deep as the inane words tumbled out of his mouth. He cringed inwardly. What could he say that didn’t sound trite? Hank would know what to say.

Aiden’s brown eyes drilled into her vivid green ones. She was an ethereal beauty. It was heartbreaking to witness the sadness pouring out of such perfection. Her head bobbed as she curled an unsteady hand around her throat and burst into sobs.

Oh sh— He grimaced, raising a cautious hand to pat her on the shoulder. In response, she stepped into his side, grabbing onto the lapel of his jacket. Her jerky movements sent shock waves racing through his veins, the weight of her grip seeping into his bones. His mind blanked for a minute as his body took over. He shook his head to set his synapses scrambling, trying to make sense of this bizarre interaction.

When he arrived this morning, it sure didn’t equate to a feeling of homecoming. He shouldn’t have been surprised at the feeling of displacement and disconnection. That shit was pretty standard. But, this was Alabama. Where he grew up. The only place that had ever felt like home. Now? Sweet home Alabama? Not so much. Standing with his arm around this stranger… this felt more like home. Aiden’s eyes almost crossed from system overload. His body hadn’t really felt anything in so long. He was used to living the life of an international nomad, roaming between photo shoots. His only interactions with others coming from behind a camera lens.

What the hell is happening?

The woman’s shudders slowly lessened to the softer, rise and fall of her chest, as she breathed deeply in acceptance of his comfort. Huh. He had been able to offer something after all. It speared his soul, connecting him to another in a way he had forgotten existed. His breathing slowed in time with hers, every inhale drawing her delicate, jasmine perfume, and the scent of salty tears. Aiden was drawing as much comfort as he was giving, the exchange probably weighing more heavily in his favor. In a moment of tortured surrender, this petite woman had made him see how lonely he was.

Loneliness was his MO.

His life sucked.

Goddamn.

It made him want to wrap himself around this woman, and never let go.

Their cocoon of comfort was shattered as she yanked her body away from his, crossing her arms, consternation written all over her face. At a loss for what to do, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Aiden dimly registered the sounds of car engines starting as the mourners lined up to leave, and the whispers of those few who remained.

Are you coming to the wake? Her eyes were almost pleading.

Yes, his mouth spoke without connecting to his brain. His intention had been to pay his respects and leave, unsure if he’d even be welcome. Actually, he was certain he was unwelcome. Why was she asking him, a stranger?

Her head jerked in approval, before she again burrowed in the envelope of her friend’s arms, the women then marched away. Aiden hadn’t even noticed the blonde move toward them. He’d been blissfully oblivious, completely absorbed by a woman for the first time in… forever.

He stood on liquid legs, elbows loose, missing the feel of her. Bewilderment doused his ability to think, as he watched her retreat. Something about the texture of her movement stirred the familiarity again. His memories rose closer to the surface, but faded again as she disappeared out of sight.

The energy in the air was noticeably different. Heaviness descended over him again as he turned to the grave to add a shovelful of dirt. Three other men remained to do the same.

It’s good to see ye again, Aiden. Sorry it couldn’t have been under happier circumstances. Harry, his friend’s brother, gave him a slap on the shoulder in greeting. The sentiment confused and chipped at his expectation to be treated like a stranger.

He paused to collect his wits, gathering the