Wild Homecoming (Dark Pines Pride Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Wild Homecoming

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Preview of Wild Atonement

  Also by Liza Street

  About Liza

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Wild Homecoming

  The Dark Pines Pride, Book One

  By Liza Street

  Copyright Liza Street. All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Keira Blackwood

  Prologue

  JRJ: Is that Paris Lake in your profile photo?

  SMG: Who is this?

  JRJ: My name’s Jackson. I’m the social media manager for the Licorice Fiddles. I saw your profile photo on their page.

  He waited, but she didn’t respond.

  On the road with his siblings, he had a lot of time to think, and a lot of time to feel homesick. The next day, he opened up the message app in SocialBook and tried to talk to her again.

  JRJ: Sorry to bug you. But is it Paris Lake?

  SMG: Why are you asking me this?

  JRJ: Don’t mean to weird you out. Sorry. I grew up right next to Paris Lake but haven’t been back for years. I miss it there.

  SMG: Yes, that’s it in my profile photo. Don’t contact me again.

  Frowning, he set his phone in his lap. He hadn’t meant to freak her out. An hour later, a notification showed up. She’d written him again.

  SMG: Sorry, let’s start over. I just searched for your name on the Licorice Fiddles page and you seem to be who you say you are. My name is Summer. I shouldn’t have been rude.

  JRJ: No worries. I know I popped up out of nowhere. I can see how that would be alarming.

  SMG: It was a perfect storm, because I’m slightly paranoid, and your profile pic is, you know, a predator.

  He’d put up a photo of himself in his mountain lion form.

  SMG: Anyway, I’m sending you a better photo of the lake. As someone who grew up here, I think you’d appreciate it. [photo attachment]

  JRJ: The trees reflecting in the water are just like I remember them. Thank you, Summer.

  And that was that. A friendly round of messages between him and a fan of the Licorice Fiddles.

  *

  Except he couldn’t forget Summer, or Paris Lake. One August night while relaxing in a cruddy motel room, he opened up the SocialBook app again and messaged her.

  JRJ: I was just thinking about our lake.

  It took a few minutes, but she responded.

  SMG: Our lake?

  JRJ: Well, as much of a lake as I can share with a total stranger.

  SMG: Fair enough. So…what were you thinking about it?

  JRJ: There’s a trail on the east side with some epic blackberry bushes.

  SMG: I love blackberries. Where on the east side?

  JRJ: You know that big rock that hangs out over the lake?

  SMG: No, there are a couple.

  JRJ: It looks kinda like a penis pointing over the water.

  SMG: Ha. Yeah, I know which one you mean. But I thought it just looked like a finger.

  JRJ: Take a closer look at those two smaller boulders next to it, and they’ll complete the picture for you. Anyway, the trail branches off, and a quarter mile in, blackberries. But be careful, there are mountain lions out there.

  SMG: I’ll give it a shot. Thanks.

  *

  Three days later, a notification popped up on Jackson’s phone.

  SMG: I’m eating the biggest, juiciest, most beautiful blackberries right now.

  He grinned and typed back, I’m jealous. How’s our lake looking?

  SMG: It’s looking good. Lots of mosquitoes, though.

  JRJ: You’re probably fine. Around our lake, they only go after stinky people.

  SMG: Thanks a lot. I’m covered in bites.

  JRJ: I knew there was a reason we haven’t met in person. You’re afraid I’ll be turned off by the stench.

  SMG: Your argument might have merit except I’ve never been interested in turning you on.

  He laughed.

  JRJ: What do you look like, anyway? I can’t see your face in your pic.

  SMG: [photo attachment]

  He clicked on the attachment icon and the image of a pufferfish popped up. He laughed again and searched for another image of a mountain lion.

  JRJ: Here’s me. [photo attachment]

  SMG: Pufferfish + mountain lion = friends 4eva.

  Chapter One

  While the Ford Raptor barreled over the mountains, Jackson stared at the road through the windshield, looking between Will and Hayley, his brother and sister, who sat in the front seats. They were quickly approaching the Washington border. So close to home. But as always, they’d careen right past it and head up to Canada.

  Always on the run. But after driving around the US for four years, it was hard to feel any fear. If the boogeymen were still after the Jaynes siblings, they’d have caught up by now.

  Jackson’s phone buzzed in his lap, and he glanced at the screen. Another notification from one of the Licorice Fiddles’ social media accounts. His sister turned around, watching him from the front seat, while he unlocked his phone and scrolled through the comments on SocialBook.

  “Didn’t you just check that?” she asked, her bright blue eyes narrowed in judgment.

  “Hayley,” he said. “It’s my job.”

  “Dick nozzle,” she said, her voice affectionate, “they don’t pay you to monitor their online stuff all the time.”

  “What else am I gonna do?” He gestured at the constantly changing scenery beyond Will’s giant pick-up truck. Now, it was autumn, and the deciduous trees were changing color, peppered in among the evergreens.

  Will, as always, drove with his hands looking relaxed on the steering wheel, although Jackson knew “relaxed” wasn’t possible with Will.

  “I don’t know what else you could do,” Hayley said. “Get a life of your own, maybe?”

  He flipped her off, and she flipped him off, and then she turned around to face the front of the truck.

  The message icon at the top of his screen lit up—a personal message, not something intended for the band whose accounts he managed.

  SMG: Where are you today, Mr. Globetrotter?

  Jackson’s heart lifted in his chest, and he had to look outside to make sure it wasn’t because of a sudden rise and drop in the road. Nope, there was nothing wrong with the road. He was just reacting to another message from Summer.

  JRJ: Approaching the Washington border and fighting with my little sister. #FamilyRoadTrip #FromHell

  She sent back a laughing emoji.

  He noticed she didn’t ask whether his family would be stopping near Huntwood.

  The little town of Huntwood, with its nearby Paris Lake, was what he and Summer had in common, and it was the element that had kickstarted th
eir online correspondence. She lived there now, and up until four years ago, Jackson had lived there his whole life. Huntwood had been the closest town to his family’s territory of Dark Pines, which bordered the lake.

  He thought for a second, then messaged her again.

  JRJ: What I wouldn’t give to see your real smile.

  She didn’t respond. Maybe he was coming on too strong. He’d been exchanging private messages with Summer for two months now, and any time he got too personal, she’d disappear for hours or even a full two days. But he couldn’t help wanting to get to know her better.

  She wouldn’t give him her last name. That was fine—he didn’t want to pry for personal details that made her uncomfortable. But what did she look like? Her profile on SocialBook was a faraway shot of her standing by the lake he’d grown up next to. She was wearing jeans and a pink sweatshirt, and a big floppy hat that shadowed her face.

  He hated that fucking hat. He wanted to see her eyes, see her smile.

  His phone had gone black while he waited. Maybe she wouldn’t respond. He cursed his impatience—he should stop saying things about wanting to meet her, wanting to know more about her.

  Suddenly, a notice had his phone buzzing again.

  Hayley turned around in the front seat and hissed at him. “I swear I’m gonna take that phone and chuck it out the window.”

  He curled his arms around the phone protectively, because he believed her. She’d done it before, somewhere in Louisiana or Florida—he couldn’t remember the exact state, just that there had been swamps and alligators. At least Will had made her buy him a new phone.

  Jackson was twenty-five, Hayley twenty-one. And Will, at twenty-nine, was pretty much parenting them. It was messed up. Jackson wanted out. He wanted to stop running from place to place, and find a territory, and settle down again.

  Sighing, he pulled up the message app again. Then he laughed. In response to his message about wanting to see her real smile, she’d sent him an image. There was a smile there, all right—the smile of a yawning elephant seal.

  JRJ: Hilarious.

  SMG: I know, right?

  He stared at the message screen for a minute. They were so close to his family’s territory—or they would be, as they went up through Oregon toward Washington. Maybe he could stop by the Dark Pines territory. See Summer in Huntwood, if she’d agree to that. Visit Paris Lake again, the lake where their parents had taken them every weekend in the summer for picnics and swimming.

  JRJ: Hey, Summer, do you know anyone by the last name of Clausen in the area?

  SMG: I don’t know anyone personally. Are you trying to get in touch with an old friend?

  Something like that. He wrote back, Just want to know if they’re still around anymore. My family knew theirs pretty well.

  Until the Clausens had decimated the Jaynes family, tearing the Dark Pines Pride apart forever.

  SMG: You want me to ask around? I talk to a lot of different people each day.

  JRJ: That’s the closest you’ve ever come to telling me what you do.

  SMG: Yep. Vague for a reason, buster. Doesn’t matter how many puppy dog eyes you send me.

  JRJ: A man has to live in hope.

  She sent another smiling emoji, then her “online” status changed to “offline.”

  And that was the end of that. He went into the account of the Licorice Fiddles and responded to comments, then posted a clip of them performing. He responded to a couple of bloggers who wanted to get interviews with the band, and then he brainstormed some posts for the next week, gathering clips and quotes to use across all of their social media accounts.

  Every few minutes, he went back to SocialBook to look at the photo Summer had sent him. A smiling elephant seal. Maybe she actually did look like an elephant seal, to some extent. Would that bother him?

  Not really, he decided. As long as she had the personality she presented in their SocialBook messages, he still wanted to meet her.

  Chapter Two

  Early in the morning, Summer had woken up and sent a single message to Jackson.

  SMG: No Clausens in the area—I asked around at work last Friday, and had my friend look into it. She has some connections.

  JRJ: Thank you. Talk to you later?

  SMG: Yeah.

  JRJ: [photo attachment]

  She clicked on the image. He’d taken to sending her random images of mountain lions. This photo was a beautiful shot of a large mountain lion running through the snow, paws kicking up flakes. She didn’t know where he found these images, but as an amateur photographer, she could appreciate the talent that had gone into taking them.

  She went to work and spent the rest of the morning wishing she could get back to her phone. Exchanging messages with Jackson had been the highlight of her day so far.

  As soon as she’d handed Mrs. Rochester her complimentary toothbrush, travel-sized tube of toothpaste, and dental floss, Summer ran from the office and back to the closet-sized break room to retrieve her purse.

  A message was waiting for her on SocialBook.

  JRJ: Thinking of you. This is me. [photo attachment]

  Expecting another mountain lion, she clicked on the image.

  This one wasn’t a mountain lion—it was a man. The shot was mostly of his face, a little bit of his chest included. He wore a faded red t-shirt, one of those that looked like they’d been well-worn into softness. His muscles stretched the fabric at the shoulders.

  Who was she kidding—she wasn’t just looking at his muscles. It was his eyes that drew her—a bright blue, like the surface of Paris Lake on a beautiful, sunny day. His smile was wide and friendly, and he had the kind of cheekbones she expected to see on models, not average-sounding men who took an interest in her on SocialBook.

  With shaking fingers, she closed the app and shoved her phone back in her purse.

  Seconds later, it rang, so she fished it out again. Unknown number. Had Jackson figured out a way to call her? Would she mind terribly if he did? Well, obviously. That would be a creepy breach of privacy.

  But she wouldn’t mind hearing his voice.

  She shook her head, trying to make a decision while the phone still rang. Too late—it went to voicemail.

  She grabbed her insulated lunch bag and walked out to the courtyard behind the dentist’s office. The area was surrounded by other businesses in an L shaped-building—a coffee shop, an insurance office, the dentist, and a comic book store. Because Summer was taking an early lunch today, nobody else was out here yet.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened up her voicemail app and clicked the play button. A nasal, angry voice spoke. “This message is for Summer M. Grieb. You have several payments past due on your CivicAmerican card. If you do not pay your balance, you will face legal action. Please call us at 1-800-555-2845 to resolve this issue.”

  Summer sighed. Well, it wasn’t Jackson, that was for sure. Messages like this one were the very reason Summer had resolved to remain single. One boyfriend could certainly ruin a woman for any other men…and not in a good way.

  She texted her lawyer friend, Becca. I’ve got another one for you, and she forwarded the voicemail so Becca could listen to it.

  Her phone rang again immediately, with Becca’s phone number flashing. Summer looked longingly at her lunch bag, but answered the call. Becca was doing so much for her, the least Summer could do was pick up the phone.

  “Hey.”

  “What the actual fuck,” Becca said. “There’s another one?”

  “Yeah. I hadn’t even heard of CivicAmerican.”

  “If we ever find that guy, I swear….”

  “I know.” Summer was so tired of being angry.

  “Anyway,” Becca said, “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about a thing, okay? And come out with me on Friday. I just landed a new client and I want to celebrate.”

  That was what Summer loved about Becca. She could turn an invitation into something that even Summer couldn’t refuse. If she’d made th
e date about cheering Summer up, Summer would have refused. But by saying it was for Becca to celebrate, Becca pretty much guaranteed that Summer had to do it.

  “You’re a really great attorney,” Summer said.

  Becca laughed. “So you’re coming?”

  “You know I can’t say no.”

  “Whee! Get your glad rags on—we’ll paint the town!”

  After hanging up, Summer had just enough time to bolt down her sandwich and hustle back into the office.

  “Dr. Farish’s 11:30 is here,” the receptionist told Summer. “Greg Jones.”

  Not even a chance to breathe and push aside thoughts of random credit cards being started in her name. “Thanks, I’ll take him to a room.”

  Summer stowed her things, checked her scrubs for crumbs and her teeth for residual food. Nothing would be worse than a dental hygienist with food stuck in her teeth. Then she walked out to find Greg.

  He followed her to his chair and sat down dutifully. “You worked on my teeth last time,” he said, smiling.

  “Did I?”

  She got out the hand mirror and scaler and began removing the plaque from Greg’s teeth. She focused on the satisfying scrape of the scaler against enamel. Taking the tools out of his mouth, she said, “Turn your head to the left a little, please.”

  He turned his head. “I’ve been working up the nerve to ask you out.”

  Summer froze. Her mind raced. If she could just get the scaler and mirror back in his mouth, they wouldn’t have to have this conversation. But she could hardly pry his lips apart.

  “Um,” she said.

  “I guess I should ask if you’re single, first,” he said. “And, well, I’m interested in you, if you’re free. Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime…?”

  Summer cleared her throat. “Thanks, but I just got out of a relationship”—six months ago—”and I’m not quite ready to start dating again.”

  “Oh.” He gave her a weak smile, his face too brilliantly illuminated by the op light. “Well, when you’re ready, let me know. Ha, well, I guess I’ll be back in six months for my next cleaning.”

  She gave an awkward laugh and waited, tools raised.

  “Oh,” he said again. “Right.” He opened his mouth wide.