Coming Home (Homeward Bound Series Book 1)

by Rebecca Barber

  “Sorry,” he apologised, raising his hands in surrender.

  “And all I asked is that she text me when she got home. Let me know she made it okay. That was on Sunday night. She should have been back by early evening, but I don’t know. Now she’s avoiding me. She won’t answer my calls. She’s not returning texts. I’ve even taken to Facebook stalking but she hasn’t so much as liked a damn cat picture in more than a week. That damn woman loves those stupid cat photos.”

  “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. I am.”

  “What are you gonna do?” Derek asked, all traces of taunting gone from his voice. He was on my side. I should never have doubted he’d be anything but.

  “Short of driving down there and checking on her myself, what can I do?” I’d already asked myself the exact same question over and over and over again in the past couple of days. I was embarrassed to admit how many hours I’d spent already debating my options.

  “So…why are you still here?”

  His question seemed so simple. So simple, yet I didn’t have an answer. I’d considered it and dismissed it so many times I didn’t know if it was a good idea or not. Hearing Derek question why I hadn’t already left put everything in perspective. I wouldn’t relax until I knew she was safe, and getting a text message wasn’t going to satisfy me. I needed to see she was okay.

  “I…I don’t know,” I admitted sheepishly, looking down at my hand. I’d made a mess of that. Even though I owned a construction business, these days I spent more time in the office than I did on site. When I did make the occasional site visit it was usually in a suit to get something signed off, or meet someone or to solve some issue. But by Wednesday I was itching to beat the shit out of something. Nailing bits of wood together seemed like a good idea. Twenty minutes and more than a dozen bent nails later, I’d smashed the hammer down on my thumb and completely missed the nail sticking out from the timber. Now my hand was a mess of blue bruises, blood blisters, and red, raw angry skin.

  “Leave Saturday morning. Play tomorrow night. You owe the guys after tonight’s shenanigans. Then head to Melbourne and check on our girl,” Derek instructed.

  I just nodded. He was right. I owed them. As soon as I’d made it up to the team, I’d go check and make sure Pippi was okay. If she wasn’t…well, she would be. She had to be.

  ***

  After three hours of driving, my body was cursing me. In accordance with Derek’s instructions I’d played last night and I’d played like shit. I’d taken more hits and bumps than I’d had possessions. At one point I’d ended up buried under a pile of fifteen fully grown, sweaty, dirty men at a bounce. I’d copped a foot directly to the thigh, which was now sporting an interesting spur pattern. Right now all I wanted to do was curl up in my bed and sleep it off. I couldn’t sleep, no matter how much I wanted to. My plan had been to leave around dawn, but after three after hours of tossing and turning, I’d given up. I took a scalding hot shower before jumping in the car and heading off.

  Spotting a McDonalds up ahead, I took the next exit and pulled in. As soon as I stepped from the car, every pain I’d been trying to ignore came back with a vengeance. Wincing at the bright sun, I slipped my sunglasses on and made my way inside.

  “Morning, sir. What can I get for you?” a bright, bubbly pimple-faced girl asked.

  The high pitch of her voice brought my headache to the forefront of my mind. “I’ll take two large black coffees, thanks.”

  “Would you like a hash brown for a dollar?”

  She was sticking to the script despite my surly attitude. “Sure, why not?” I conceded. Her face lit up like she’d just won the lottery.

  Ten minutes later, I’d finished my first coffee and was starting to feel slightly human. Dumping the empty cup and the uneaten hash brown in the bin, I got in the car and took off again. The nagging in the back of my brain was telling me to get to Melbourne as quick as I could. I don’t believe in that mystic, sixth sense bullshit, but something in my gut was telling me Zoe needed me, and she needed me now―even if she didn’t know it. I’d texted her again last night after the game and again this morning but had yet to get a response. Not that I’d expected one, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t piss me off.

  After a long, boring drive, I rounded the bend and Melbourne was in my sights. The skyscrapers, the bridges, the crazy yellow beam stretching across the road. It was all laid out ahead of me, inviting me in. Pushing aside the overwhelming awe, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. Getting to Zoe. Carefully I dodged the matchbox sized cars that darted in and out amongst the fast moving traffic, not to mention the hundred or more yellow taxi cabs barrelling along the freeway with seemingly no regard for the rules. Seeing the sign for Docklands, I eased off the accelerator and took the exit.

  It had been a handful of years since I’d been here and so much had changed. Docklands, once wasteland with only the train station, was now a trendy, thriving suburb. Townhouses and apartments had sprung up everywhere. Shops and eclectic cafes filled the sidewalk. It all was dwarfed by the football stadium. Even at this time in the morning it looked impressive. I could only imagine what it would be like all lit up at night jam packed with fifty thousand rabid fans screaming their heads off. I was definitely going to come back soon to enjoy it.

  I pulled over on a side street and checked the map on my phone. I was only a couple of streets away, but by the looks of things, parking was going to be an issue. Spotting one on the next block, I quickly manoeuvred into it. They made them tight in the city. Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I locked up and started the trek down the street. Obviously they were late starters in the city. Most of the street was deserted and everything was still covered with a thin sheen of last night’s dew. With the sun reflecting from every surface, the whole place sparkled.

  Spotting Zoe’s car, I let out a sigh of relief and all the fury that had been bubbling for a week evaporated instantly. She was home. I was in the right place. It was everything I’d expect Zoe’s place to be. Sleek, stylish, modern. The raised garden boxes were filled with colourful flowers, brightening up the place. With renewed energy, I bounced up the steps and checked the mail box. Her name was there in black and white. Apartment number fifty-three.

  In the elevator I could barely stand still. I was shifting my weight back and forth, my palms were sweating, and my pulse was going ballistic. Staring at my reflection in the mirrored doors, I wished I’d stopped and taken the time to clean myself up, but even if I’d wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to restrain myself. When the bell pinged and the doors sprung open, I was caught off guard. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, but I was seriously shitting myself.

  Forcing one foot after the other, I strode determinedly down the deserted corridor. Then there it was. An innocuous white door with stainless steel numbers. With trembling fingers, I raised my hand and knocked. After standing there for what felt like an eternity without an answer, I tried again. Still no answer. All the anger I thought had vanished flooded my veins.

  I knocked again. Hard.

  “Can I help you?” a shaky voice asked from behind me.

  Spinning around at the voice, I found an old man shuffling towards me wearing a flannel dressing gown and matching slippers. His face was a maze of wrinkles and he had the most odd shade of pale grey eyes I’d ever seen. Even though his almost white hair was thinning, there was still an intimidating air of authority about him. Or maybe my mum had raised me right and it wasn’t his authority that was intimidating, but the respect I immediately felt towards him due to his seniority.

  My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. I couldn’t get a word out. Swallowing heavily, I managed to splutter, “I’m a friend of Zoe’s but she doesn’t seem to be answering.”

  “A friend, huh?”

  “Yeah. I’m Spencer. Spencer McLaren,” I offered, extending my hand.

  It took a moment but then I felt his small, bony,
ice cold hand settle in mine, but I didn’t miss the evaluation he gave me. His bespectacled eyes scanned up and down my body, I’m sure noticing the bruises and two days’ growth lining my chin.

  “I’ve heard your name before,” he admitted before dropping my hand.

  “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” I immediately regretted saying that. It sounded so dumb. I felt so stupid.

  Grinning at me, he chuckled. “Depends. Did you know I have a key to Princess Zoe’s?”

  Feeling relieved for the first time since I stepped into the building, I said, “Great. Mind letting me in?”

  The truth was I was holding my breath. My nerves had got the better of me and I was officially freaking out. He didn’t say a word. Instead he just spun on his slippered heel and disappeared back into his apartment across the hall and closed the door. My hope faded. No, it didn’t fade, it died. Instantly. Seconds felt like an eternity.

  “Ready?” he asked, his voice shocking the shit out of me. Just when I’d given up, he shuffled across in front of me and stuck the tiny brass key in the lock. “Before I let you in, I need to be sure that you’re really Spencer.”

  “How can you know that? Do you want to see my licence or something?” At this point I didn’t care what proof he wanted. Hell, he could ask for a blood sample and I’d gladly grab a syringe. I just wanted through that door, no matter the cost.

  “Okay. If you really are Spencer, you won’t have any trouble telling me what you and you alone call our girl?”

  I couldn’t control the wild grin that covered my face. “That’s easy. She’s my Pippi.” As soon as the word fell from my lips, the lock on the door clicked and he stepped back. “Thank you.”

  “Henry. I’m Henry. I love that little girl as if she was my own. So don’t you think about hurting her, Spencer McLaren.” His voice was filled with a combination of warning and love.

  “Thank you, Henry. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is see Zoe hurting. That’s why I’m here,” I acknowledged before shaking his hand and stepping inside Zoe’s apartment.

  I didn’t even get a chance to look around before the stench almost knocked me sideways. It was putrid. A disgusting combination of stale air, dirty laundry, wet towels, and rotting fruit. Pushing the door closed behind me, I stepped into the small lounge room and discovered one of the sources of the odour. A wooden fruit bowl piled high with browning bananas and oranges covered with ugly green spots. Forcing myself to take a breath, I walked through the lounge, past the kitchen, and found myself standing in the threshold to Zoe’s bedroom.

  Then there she was. Zoe. My Zoe. Looking terrible. But she was safe. And sleeping. Her hair was matted and fanned out across the pillows. Her lips were slightly parted and chapped as she snored softly. Stepping towards her bed, I noticed how pale and drawn she was. Her eyes were sunken and rimmed with deep, dark, black bags. She looked so small. So helpless. So miserable. And she smelt. If I thought the lounge room stank, then the bedroom was worse.

  Almost tripping over the abandoned suitcase, I noticed the contents had been scattered about haphazardly. The independent Zoe who’d straightened her shoulders and taken herself home was nowhere in sight now. Asleep in the bed before me was my worst nightmare. Stepping over the piles of clothes, I moved towards the bed.

  Sinking down beside her, I reach out and touched her bare shoulder. “Zoe! Come on, Zoe. Time to wake up,” I begged softly. She rolled over, grunting as she went, but still she didn’t wake. I tried again, a little harder this time.

  Reluctantly, Zoe’s eyes flickered open and her gaze met mine.

  Chapter 27

  ZOE

  “Spencer…” I croaked.

  It hurt. My lip cracked as I spoke and I could taste the metallic flavour instantly. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. Scratchy, burning, and sore all at the same time. I blinked hard. My eyes were crusted with sleep but I had to get my focus. Spencer was in my bedroom. Running my hand through my hair, my fingers caught in a knot. My eyes dropped.

  “Pippi…” the soft sound of his voice warmed me.

  “What…why are you here? I don’t…I don’t…” I spluttered incoherently. I could barely form words, let alone whole sentences.

  “You weren’t answering your phone, so I―”

  I couldn’t stop myself. I vaulted from under the covers and straight into Spencer’s arms.

  “Whoa…” He laughed but he caught me, and not for a moment did I feel like he was going to drop me. He never would.

  “Thank you,” I whispered before I buried my face in his shoulder and the waterworks started. After a couple of minutes of shaking, sobbing, and generally looking like a fool, I wiped my eyes before glancing up to meet Spencer’s worried gaze.

  “Pippi…you know I love you but…well, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Spencer’s words rocked me to the core. I felt myself tense up and in the same moment Spencer’s arms tightened around me like a steel band holding me in place. I wanted to run away, but he held firm. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I felt the chuckle move through him before it bubbled from his throat. His belly shook and it was okay. Nothing he could say would be any worse than my imagination led me believe. “Don’t look so scared, Pippi…it’s just, well…you stink. I mean, really bad.”

  I giggled violently, rocking us both.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay. Maybe I’ll just go have a shower.”

  “Maybe you should.” Spencer smiled as he kissed my cheek and slipped me from his lap before slapping me on the butt. I squawked and headed for the bathroom.

  Shutting the door behind me, I saw my reflection in the mirror and physically recoiled. Knowing that Spencer had seen me in this state made me ill. My hair was oily and matted and hadn’t seen a brush in over a week. My skin had this weird yellow tinge to it. The scab on my forehead was starting to itch and I realised it was time my stitches came out. I should have gone to a doctor sooner, I was just too damn tired. Running my tongue over my teeth, I was embarrassed by how furry they were. Cupping my hand over my mouth, I breathed out and smelt my breath. I’m amazed I didn’t pass out at the putrid stench.

  Stepping into the shower, I was determined to wash away all the grime and pity that had built up. After scrubbing, shaving, exfoliating, and forcing away the embarrassment, I felt human. Almost.

  I don’t know how long I stood under the water but it just felt so good. Strangely, when it cooled, I still didn’t feel the compulsion to get out. I just wasn’t ready to face reality. Knowing Spencer was standing in my apartment and I was hiding in the shower didn’t make it any easier. I couldn’t even remember what state I’d left the place.

  Shutting off the water, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself. I wiped away the condensation from the mirror. Running through my mind was the last week. I’d done nothing. I remembered driving home, my chest aching with each kilometre I put between us. I recall stumbling through the door, dropping my suitcase, calling in sick, and falling into bed. That was about it. I didn’t remember the last time I’d eaten or even had a drink. As the thought crossed my mind, my stomach chose that moment to growl obnoxiously. Up until now I hadn’t even felt hungry. I just hadn’t had the energy or desire to get out of bed.

  “Come on, Zoe, breakfast’s ready…” Spencer’s deep voice echoed through the door.

  Dragging the brush through my hair, I slipped into my bedroom and yanked on some clothes. Dressed in yoga pants and a baggy shirt, I shuffled into the lounge room. I knew Spencer must have done some cleaning while I was in the bathroom because I barely recognised my own apartment.

  “What’d you do?”

  “What do you mean?” he taunted as he pulled out a chair at the counter for me, sliding a bowl filled with muesli and yoghurt in front of me.

  “My…apartment?” I questioned through a mouthful of crunchy muesli.

  “Just tidied up a bit,” he shrugged, infuria
ting me. He could be so damn humble it was exasperating.

  “Just tell me, Spencer!”

  “It was nothing, really. Just opened some windows, took the rubbish out, stripped your bed, and tossed the sheets in the machine. Just the basics.”

  “Why?”

  “It needed to be done. Desperately!”

  “I could have done it,” I sulked. I was being a moody bitch and I knew it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t need him swooping in and playing the hero. Not again. He’d done it so many times for me recently I was worried he was enjoying wearing a cape. The truth was I couldn’t let myself get used to playing the damsel in distress. I needed to stand on my own two feet because one day he wouldn’t be there to catch me. That thought freaked me out.

  I watched as Spencer stalked around the bench deliberately and sat beside me before spinning me so I was staring straight at him. I wanted to look away. Desperately. I was like a fly caught in his web. I couldn’t. My gaze was fixed on his. “Zoe, I know you can. But I wanted to. You need to let me help you. Even if it’s just for a little bit. Please.” The pleading in his eyes killed me. I knew I couldn’t say no.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Don’t look so surprised,” I admonished. “And Spencer…”

  “Yeah, Zoe?”

  “Thank you. You know, for―”

  “It’s okay, Pippi. Forget it. Now eat up! We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

  “We do?”

  “We do. So eat!”

  We finished our breakfast, and while I found some shoes, Spencer washed up. Walking back into the lounge room, I was greeted by incessant beeping. “What the―?” I asked.

  “That, Pippi, is your phone. I found it under the lounge. Dead as a door nail. So I plugged it in and my guess is right about now it’s charged enough to be finally receive all those text messages I sent.”

  “I didn’t ignore you, Spence…”

  “I know, Zoe. I know.”