Remote Rockstar (Polar Bear, Alaska), page 1
Heather Dahlgren
Copyright © 2021 Heather Dahlgren
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
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
About The Author
Stay Connected
Chapter One
Jase
The sun is just dipping below the ‘Welcome To Polar Bear, Alaska’ sign. I pull over, tossing the car into park. The sign mocks me as I stare at it. Coming home after ten years was not in my plans. When I left this small town, I never expected to be back. I left it all, left everyone, for something more. For a dream. A dream I’ve been living for the last ten years.
Yet, here I am, back home.
I scrub my face, blowing out a breath. This might just be the worst mistake I’ve ever made and that’s saying a lot coming from me. I stare out the window at the fresh snow that blankets the ground and I think back to when I was a kid. All the snowball fights, the sliding, and watching the Polar Bear Plunge. The late-night parties in the woods as a teenager. Playing my guitar around the fire with alcohol we all stole from our parents.
A smile hits my lips, but a tightness squeezes my chest.
I’m back.
I throw my BMW into drive and hope it’s capable of managing these roads. As I drive through town, it’s like I never left. It all looks exactly the same. The Ice Box is busy as always. It’s the only place open after five. It’s where the locals feel at home and the tourists feel like they are having the experience of a lifetime. All the shops are closed, but they are all still there. Polar Bear High, where my mom has been a teacher since before I was born sits proudly at the bottom of the mountain.
The main road leads off to the couple of small neighborhoods that we have. I turn left and follow it back until I see my mom’s house come into view.
“Mom, why don’t you leave this town. You could teach anywhere and make the kind of money you deserve.”
She smiles and touches my cold cheek as I continue shoveling the driveway. “I don’t need money. This town is our home. We are a family, willing to do anything for each other. It’s safe and brings comfort when you least expect it. Six generations of our family have lived and loved in this town. Everything you could ever want is here. I’ll never leave, Jase. I hope you never leave either.”
I sigh as I pull into the driveway. Her house needs some fixing. It’s dark now, but the moonlight bouncing off the roof shows evidence of too many patch jobs. I’ll have that fixed as soon as possible. I should’ve sent money a long time ago for her to keep up with it all.
Once I climb out of the car, I grab my bag and head for the door. I don’t even reach it before it swings open. “My baby boy,” my mom says, smiling.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, wrapping my arms around her.
She holds on tightly, squeezing me as hard as she can. “I missed you so much. Welcome home, Jase,” she whispers.
I back away, tilting my head with a grin. “I’m not staying, Mom. I’m visiting for a little bit.”
She brushes it off and grabs my hand. “Whatever you say. Come on, I’ve made your favorite dinner,” she says, leading me to the kitchen.
My eyes travel around, and I shake my head. Nothing has changed. She still has the same couch I used to make out on as a teenager. “Mom, don’t you think it’s time for an update?” I ask, pulling a beer from the fridge.
“Why would I waste money updating things that don’t need it?” she asks, taking the roast chicken out of the oven.
“I’ll give you the money. You can update the house exactly how you’ve always wanted,” I suggest.
She looks up at me and smiles. “It is exactly how I always wanted it. It’s been filled with love, laughter, and memories.” She glances over at a picture of her and my dad as her smile fades. “I don’t want to change anything.”
My parents were high school sweethearts. Their love was undeniable-you could see it in the way they looked at one another. I was ten when he died, and a part of my mom died with him. She’s never even looked at another man and I still find comfort in that thought.
“You’re right, nothing needs to change,” I say.
“Sit, sit. You must be exhausted after driving from California,” she says, rushing around the kitchen.
“It’s a fifty-nine-hour drive, Mom. I stopped a few times,” I say, laughing.
She stops pulling plates out of the cabinet and turns to look at me. I can see the tears swimming in her eyes and I rush over. “What’s wrong?”
Her head moves against my chest as she lightly laughs. “I’m so happy to have you here. I’ve missed you so much.”
I pull away and smile down at her. She’s aged over the years, but she’s still my beautiful mom. Her brown hair is beginning to gray, and she’s got a few wrinkles around her mouth, but her warm brown eyes are unchanged. They shine with happiness as she looks at me.
“I’ve missed you too, Mom,” I say, kissing her cheek.
“Just me?” she asks, searching my face.
I pull away and run my hand through my hair. “Yep. No one else to miss,” I say, grabbing my beer off the counter.
The door opens and I narrow my eyes at her.
“What?” she asks, shrugging her shoulders. “Evelyn and Sophia wanted to see you, so I invited them for dinner.”
Of course, she did. I’m sure the entire town knows I’m here already. News spreads faster than a wildfire in this town. Gossip spreads even faster.
“Jase Weston,” Evelyn says, kissing my cheek. “What brings you back to Polar Bear? I thought you were too good for us now?”
“Evelyn,” Sophia scolds. “Ignore her, she’s just miserable because she had to deal with her son-in-law earlier.”
I give Sophia a quick hug and look over at Evelyn. “Abigail got married?”
“Five years ago. You were invited, never got a reply,” she says, putting down the pie she made.
“I never received an invitation. It must’ve gotten lost in the mail,” I say.
Abigail and I graduated high school together. She was always a lot of fun to hang out with and I’m surprised she settled down. She always said she wanted to get out of this town and discover what else was out there.
“So, she lives here with her husband?” I ask.
“Where else would she live? This is her home. It used to be your home, too,” Evelyn replies.
“Keep talking that way to my son and you’re going to need to leave, Evelyn. He made his choices. Respect them.”
I smile at my mom, but she doesn’t return it. Evelyn is just saying what they are all thinking.
Dinner is slow and the digs are endless. Once the pie is served, I thank them all and excuse myself to take a shower. I walk into my old bedroom and chuckle when I see it’s exactly as I left it. I drop my bag on the bed and pull out some clothes, then head to the only bathroom in the house.
I’m so used to having a bathroom in my bedroom that this is going to take some getting used to. I climb into the shower and groan at the feeble water pressure. It’s barely strong enough to rinse the soap from my body and it’s certainly not going to ease the tension from my body. Not feeling any more relaxed, I climb out of the shower.
After I’m dressed and back in my room, I sit on my small twin-sized bed and drop my head into my hands. I haven’t left the house yet and I already know it was a mistake coming back here.
“Jase?”
I sigh and walk out of my room. “Yeah?” I ask, walking into the kitchen.
“You missed the Polar Bear Plunge last month, which was a lot of fun. It was bigger than ever. You used to love watching it as a kid,” my mom says.
I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “I’m sure it was a great time. What’s the point?”
“Well, I was talking to Sophia and Evelyn about the school Christmas play and the festival. I volunteered you to help with both.”
“What? No, that’s not why I’m here, Mom.”
She waves her hand at me, ignoring my objections and turns back to the two women. “He can help with the final number of the play and play a few songs at the festival before the DJ gets there. That way we don’t need to push the time of the festival back waiting on him,” she tells them.
Sophia and Evelyn happily agree while I stand here like a fucking teenager with no say in the matter. I haven’t had to handle my calend
“Hey, listen to me. I’m not here to work. I’m taking time off. You’ll need to find someone else,” I say.
“This town needs you, Jase. Don’t turn your back again,” my mom says.
The tightness in my chest from earlier returns. I didn’t turn my back, I moved on.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say, turning away.
“Jase Weston, you might be a big-time rockstar now, but don’t forget where you come from,” my mom scolds.
I spin around, crossing my arms. “I know exactly where I come from, and I never turned my back. I chased a dream that I couldn’t find here. I will not apologize for following my dream.”
“At what cost, though?” Evelyn mumbles.
I don’t say anything as I walk out of the kitchen. I grab my coat and hat, sliding them on as I walk out the door. I’d rather deal with everyone at The Ice Box, plus I can drink this feeling away.
It’s exactly what I need.
Chapter Two
Brielle
“Thanks, James,” I say, grabbing my whiskey.
“You’re welcome.” He sighs and looks around. I raise an eyebrow and he forces a small smile. “How are you doing?”
I laugh after sipping my drink. “Couldn’t be better. It’s my favorite time of year.”
“Right, I know, but--”
“Abigail is here. I’ll talk to you later,” I say, dismissing him.
It’s a small town and I know exactly what he was going to say. I’m not ready to think about it, never mind talk about it. I have a lot to keep me occupied and that’s what I’m going to focus on.
“Brielle,” Abigail says, hugging me.
“Hey, how’d you sneak out?” I ask, laughing.
We sit down at one of the small tables and she shrugs. “I told Tommy I was going out and he could handle the kids.”
“Your mom didn’t want to sit with them so he could come?”
She laughs and graciously accepts the wine that James drops off for her. “She had plans.”
“Plans? What could she possibly be doing on a Wednesday night?”
“The hens were having some kind of meeting or something,” she explains.
I laugh, nodding. “Enough said. How’s everything going with Tommy?”
She finishes off her wine and holds it up so James will give her a refill. “It’s going.”
We’ve been best friends since grade school, and I feel guilty that I kept my mouth shut about her marrying Tommy. He was never good enough for her and he keeps proving me right. Instead of voicing my opinion, I do what I always do. I try to make her feel better. “You know, I heard once that the first ten years of marriage are the toughest. Once you get past that, it’s better than you ever imagined.”
“Great, just five more years,” she mumbles.
There are more men than women in Polar Bear, but somehow Abigail ended up with one of the worst ones. It just reminds me how lucky I am that I never got married.
“What about you? How are you doing?” she asks, looking around.
“I’m great. We’re beginning to get the school play going, the festival is right around the corner, and it’s time to start working on gingerbread houses,” I say, sipping my whiskey.
She smiles, tilting her head. Her green eyes bounce between mine as she sighs. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
I swallow and nod my head. “Well, it’s what I’m talking about, alright?”
“Right, but you know it’s going to be impossible to avoid,” she whispers.
“I know that I’m here to relax and if you want to keep bringing it up, I’m going home,” I say, finishing my drink. “I’m going to get a refill.”
James gives me a refill just as a hand lands on my shoulder.
“Hi Brielle,” Mason says.
Mason is a nice guy--probably too nice--and he’s had a crush on me since high school. He’s a great friend, but I don’t have those kinds of feelings for him. A couple of times over the years he’s gotten drunk enough to ask me out, but I always turn him down. It doesn’t stop him though. It makes me feel bad, but I can’t help how I feel.
“Hey, Mason,” I say with a smile.
“How are you?”
If one more person asks how I’m feeling, I’m going to scream. “I’m great. Excuse me. Abigail is waiting for me.” I make my way back over to her, sinking down into the chair and covering my face. “I’m gonna finish this drink and get out of here.”
“No, don’t leave,” Abigail pleads.
I drop my hands and look at her. “I shouldn’t have come out tonight. I’m just gonna give it a couple of days. There will be other things to gossip about and I’ll be long forgotten.”
She agrees and begins rumbling about how hard it is to raise kids and work as a substitute teacher. I listen as I take in the bar. It’s your classic log cabin style with a huge polar bear mural behind the bar. There are pool tables, plenty of seating inside and outside, but outside is only used in the summer months. There’s a huge fireplace on the right side which the tourists seem to love. They stand around it as if they are freezing to death, taking pictures. Everything in here is wood. Wooden tables, chairs, floors, ceiling, and shelves. There are photos of the town and some of our loved ones we’ve lost over the years.
It’s one of my favorite places in this town. It’s a place we all feel at home and surrounded by family. There are a lot of memories here. Some harder than others to think back on. In fact, everywhere in this town brings memories, there’s no avoiding that.
“Brielle?”
I look up at Abigail and smile. “Sorry, what?”
She sighs and grabs my hand. “Why don’t you head home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. I’m just going to the bathroom real quick,” I say, getting up.
I thought I could handle being out tonight, but it’s just too much. I’m going to go home and Google some new gingerbread house ideas. I love making gingerbread houses. I make one for just about everyone in town, including the high school and bar. I like to try different designs to keep them exciting.
I hear loud cheering and I laugh as I wash my hands. Someone probably got a big deer. They love coming in and showing off pictures after a hunt. Once I check myself in the mirror, I go back out to the bar.
Everyone is standing around in a large crowd. I have no interest in seeing another deer, so I grab my purse and look around for Abigail. I spot her by the bar so I push through the crowd to tell her I’m leaving. She’s laughing as she looks in on the crowd. Normally, she has no interest in pictures either, so I move closer.
Someone moves out of the way and I stop short. My purse drops to the ground as I suck in what I’m sure will be my last breath. My gaze collides with blue eyes that I never thought I’d see again.
“Holy shit, Bri,” Jase breathes.
I stand there, unable to move as the nickname only he uses falls from his lips. His smile slips from his gorgeous face. It’s been ten years but my heart slams against my chest just like it did back then. He’s older and, somehow, even more incredibly sexy. His dark hair is covered by a hat, but his facial hair is perfectly trimmed tightly to his face. He looks tougher, maybe a little harder than when he left. He’s more muscular, a lot more muscular, and I see a tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt.
He steps forward and, surprisingly, I still have the ability to breathe. Though it’s getting harder to take a deep breath and I’m shaking.
“Bri,” he whispers, standing too close to me.
You could hear a pin drop. Everyone is listening, waiting to see how I’m going to react. I step back and cross my arms.
“Jase West now, right?”
I hear the whispers beginning and turn to walk away.
He should know how that feels.
Chapter Three
Jase
Brielle Crawford. The one person I was afraid to see. The only person who is able to render me speechless.
She’s stunning, even more beautiful than the last time I laid eyes on her. Her dark blonde hair still makes me want to grab it. Her emerald green eyes still hold every song, every lyric, every melody, I’ve ever written. The body I’ve memorized still gets my pulse racing. Her soft, sweet voice is the best music I’ve heard in ten years, despite its accusational tone.
