Honey, I’m Home (Trash Haven #3)

Chapter 1

Aster

I always knew I'd end up back here. I also knew that when I made the decision to load everything into my SUV, seeing the ‘Welcome to Trash Haven’ sign was going to do a number on me.

I'm staring at it parked on the shoulder, doing something I've done every time I've driven past it since I was a little girl; I always try to see if I can name every single person included in the population number.

In a town like this, I at least know of everybody, if not have something in common with them.

My theory is that everybody in this town is connected to each other by one person.

Like, it's the cousin of the neighbor you had. Or you know them because they gave you a buggy when you were walking into the only grocery in town. Or maybe your kids were in school together. Or their mom was your teacher. You get the idea.

It just kills me, because when I left it years ago, I swore I would never come back.

Well, not permanently anyway.

The second I ease off the brake and find the gas again, I can feel my heart rate start to climb. It's completely pathetic that I’m still hung up on men I haven't seen in maybe ten years; then again, that's kind of me in a nutshell.

I can do this. It's going to be... fine.

Mom and dad's house is exactly the same as ever, down to the railing on the porch that could use a new coat of paint, and the window boxes of flowers that are the brightest thing on the house.

This is temporary, I tell myself as I park in the driveway. Once I sell a few houses, I can look into places that I can afford for myself.

I am genuinely happy to see my parents, even if it's only been a month or two since they came to visit me. I know I'm lucky to have parents like them, always loving and patient and supportive. Sorry, no trauma to entertain you there. We’re getting there. They rush out at me the second I’m in park, scooping me up into a massive hug even though I’m a grown-ass adult.

It's all I can do to keep the tears at bay as I take in their warmth and familiarity. When I told them I was coming home and asked if I could stay with them, all they said was, “Of course.” No judgement, no questions asked.

Even now, when it’s clear I’m battling shame for being back here at my age, I get nothing but affection and support. There’s not even a mention of the failed relationship I just left or the rest of the mess that followed.

My mom studies me, holding my chin in her hand, then pecks me on the cheek. She’s always been able to sense when I needed my hand held and when I needed to be treated as if I have my shit together. This mood definitely falls in the latter category.

“Your sheets are freshly washed, and we bought one of those fancy mattress toppers for the bed. I know it's smaller than you're used to now darling, but it's a free place to sleep and we both know it won’t be long until you’re onto bigger, better things than living with mom and dad. Even if we’d keep you here forever if you’d let us. ”

“Don't forget it comes with breakfast service!” my dad jokes, laughing to himself to try and lighten the mood. “Tell me where else you can get a deal like that.”

I roll my eyes and smile as he grabs my bag, the one thing I know I’ll need to get me through the night until I unpack tomorrow. I've been driving all day, and I have no intention of even touching the myriads of boxes and bags that I shoved into the car until my head is much less foggy.

The familiar scent of cinnamon wafts over me as I cross the threshold of my childhood home, knowing that there's no turning back at this point.

Maybe up until now I could have lied to myself, tricked myself into thinking I was just coming for another visit, but as I kick my shoes off, stack them on the shoe rack, and hang up my jacket, I'm already imagining doing this every day for the next several months until I can find a place.

Home sweet home.

“Now you know your father and I like to get to bed kind of early, but there're leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry. I even bought some of those fancy sparkling waters you love so much. You know where everything is.” She steps closer, being all intuitive again and making me work very hard not to break down. It’s too nice.

“We’re glad to have you here, Aster. I know this wasn't part of your plan, but your father and I are thrilled to have you back. However long it's for.”

My father wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

“We’re tickled pink, hon. We know some parents celebrate letting their kids move out and take their own lives with them, but you know empty nesting has never been our favorite.

It'll be nice to have some noise back in this house. This is always where you belong.”

I wrap my arms around him and soak up the comfort, something that never gets old. “Thanks, dad. I'll try not to be too much of a burden while I'm here.”

My mother pinches my chin again. “You couldn't be a burden if you wanted to. Do what you need to do to decompress from that drive, but don't stay up too late now, you hear? I know you’ve got a big day tomorrow, jumping right into your new job. Best to do those sorts of things when you’re fully rested.

Some things never change. She doesn’t care that I’m and adult, I’ll always be on the receiving end of her mothering. “I’m too tired to stay up much longer, don’t worry,” I say as I kiss her and dad on the cheek. “Sleep well. I'll see you guys in the morning.”

They reciprocate and soon it's just me standing in the middle of the living room as their door shuts, most of the lights in the house off. I think about texting my brother to see what he's up to, but I'm sure he's working.

Not one to turn down a free meal, I make quick work of heating up some mystery casserole my mom made for dinner, reaching for the wine she has on the counter instead of water.

I figured it'll help me along the path to unwinding. There’s definitely chicken and mayonnaise and some sort of breadcrumb topping in the casserole, as usual, but other than that, I couldn’t tell you what’s in it.

I know my mom made it though, so for that reason alone it hits just right.

Well, it does the job. It certainly won’t win any culinary awards, though.

After I rinse off my plate and down the wine, I try to be quiet as I carry my single bag up the stairs since the house isn't that big, grateful that the bathroom is between me and my brother's old room so that it's a little bit removed from where my parents are trying to sleep.

Just for something to do, I begin unpacking, getting all my essentials in familiar places before taking a quick shower to wash all the travel grime off.

Things feel a little bit better once I'm freshly showered and in soft flannel shorts and a worn-out t-shirt without a bra, and I almost walk into the door frame when I catch a light on at the neighbor's house.

As soon as I look again, it's dark over there, so maybe I imagined it. I turn off my lights just to be safe, allowing me to look out the window like a creeper without anybody knowing. A light on the lower-level flicks on, a silhouette passing by the window.

I immediately duck down, even though I know there's no way they could see me, but what the hell? I thought the house was empty.

That was part of the reason for me coming home, after all.

I’ve known the family that lived there my whole life.

Their son Arbor, alongside two other boys, Hawthorne and Dev, are my brother Anderson's best friends, and they were the star of every single teenage fantasy I ever had. Some of my adult ones too, if we’re oversharing.

I know I was nothing but an annoying younger sister to them, but the number of times I envisioned kissing one of them, or even all of them, is ridiculous.

I can’t count the number of daydreams I've had where I'm walking down the aisle towards one of them, or all of them.

Quite frankly, the level of obsession is embarrassing.

Arbor’s parents recently passed away, within a few months of each other. Pretty common for the supes. Their mate bonds are strong, so when one passes away, it doesn't usually take long for the other one to go as well. Tragic, but so romantic.

I sent flowers, but I couldn't be at the funeral because I let my ex control way too much. When my mom called to tell me that Arbor wanted to know if I'd be interested in selling their house, because I was the only one they trusted to do it, I hardly even thought about it.

It's not like life was going great in the city. I had a failed engagement and an apartment I could hardly afford, all of which was pretty damn easy to walk away from. Especially since my ex basically blacklisted me from the real estate market over there.

When I exposed what an asshole he was for cheating on me with somebody at the office, I knew we were done, but I didn't think he’d be vindictive enough to try and ruin my life.

That’s in the past though. I should have come home sooner, but there was a stubborn part of me that wanted to see if I could still make it in the city; even if I had to take other part time jobs to try and make ends meet.

Coming home to Trash Haven felt like a failure.

But coming home to do an old family friend a favor? That's just me being neighborly.

By the time I sink into my bed, I consider trying to read for a few minutes, but my eyes are heavy from focusing on the road so long.

I always sleep so damn good in this bed; I don't know what it is about it.

I've always suspected my mom bought a good sleeping charm or something from the shop in town, but knowing this bed was waiting for me upon arrival was definitely something I've been looking forward to all day, even if it is small.

I've been sleeping on a futon for the past few months since I moved out of the place I had with Ben, one of the only pieces of furniture I brought into his condo when I moved in. So, it was the only thing I walked away with.

Well, that and his microwave plates, the racks in his oven, the batteries in all of his remotes, and the password for all of his streaming services. I'm petty, not mature.