Coming Home (Homeward Bound Series Book 1)

by Rebecca Barber

  Forcing my attention back onto the plate in front of me, I stuffed my face like no one was watching. Taking huge bites, I figured the more I stuffed in my mouth, the less chance I had of being dragged into a conversation I didn’t want to have.

  Spencer must have sensed there was something bigger going on in there as well, because for the first time in as long as I could remember the silence that hung between us was uncomfortable. Clicking on his iPod, music filtered through the room killing the silence. With the quiet gone, I found myself watching Spencer…a fascination I didn’t quite understand. Everything about him was attractive, but it was the quiet strength in his eyes that destroyed me. It was in that moment I realised I was in love with him, and that realisation scared the shit out of me.

  “You okay?” he asked, startling me out of my reflection.

  “Yeah.”

  Spencer dropped his cutlery and spun on his stool before grabbing my knees and spinning me towards him. Face to face, there was barely a breath between us. I hoped he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to. The seriousness in his face crushed me.

  “Okay, Pippi. You’re rested, fed, and showered. Now it’s time to talk,” he declared firmly.

  Gulping down the lump that had mysteriously appeared in my throat, “No it’s not,” I mumbled.

  “You can’t run from this, Pippi.”

  At his words my back went stiff. He didn’t get to tell me what to do. Not today. Not never. Especially not about this. “Don’t fucking call me Pippi,” I seethed, pushing my plate away and jumping from the stool.

  “Zoe,” he softened.

  “Don’t, Spencer. Don’t try and placate me. If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.” I was being a bitch. I knew that. But I couldn’t stop.

  “Okay, you really want to hear it? Are you ready, Zoe?”

  His questions hung heavily in the air. My head was screaming, fuck no! I wasn’t ready to hear anything. I didn’t think I ever would be. I felt my lips move as the word escaped in a breathless whisper, “Yes.”

  Shrugging, Spencer looked at me. Really looked. I felt like he could see right through me. When I finally summoned the strength to look up into his face, I could see the pain there. He wanted to avoid this conversation as much as I did. But I knew Spencer. He was stronger than me. He’d push this until it was done. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I knew it was a conversation we had to have.

  “Zoe,” he began with a sigh. “I know how hard this must be for you…”

  “No, Spencer. You have no fucking idea.” As the words fell from my mouth, I felt horrible. I was being obnoxious, aggressive, and totally not like me at all. Spencer didn’t buckle. He barely batted an eyelid.

  Not one to back down from a fight, Spencer rose and folded his arms across his delicious chest. Even pissed off I could appreciate his masculine beauty. “Yes, Zoe, I do. It sucks. And it hurts. But you have to deal with it. You have to face it―”

  “I am!” I snapped bitchy.

  With a sad shake of his head, Spencer ignored my rude interruption as if it never happened. “You’re not. You’re running away. Hiding. Pretending it didn’t happen. So we ‘re going to talk about this whether you like it or not.”

  I looked up into his face and saw his jaw twitch. Spencer was strung so tightly his fists were clenched at his side. I should have been intimidated, but I wasn’t. He’d never hurt me. “Spencer, you don’t―”

  “Stop, Zoe. Just stop!” he said, holding his hand up, silencing me instantly. “Don’t tell me I don’t understand and I don’t get it, Zoe. I do. More than you know. I know how much it hurt you―”

  “How can you?” I spluttered as the tears came.

  This wasn’t how I’d seen the morning turning out. When I’d woken wrapped in his arms I felt safe and happy. Then seeing Spencer shirtless and dancing, the day looked bright and fun. It had turned to shit quickly.

  “Because every time I look at you, Princess, it breaks my fucking heart. Every time you flinch it feels like someone is punching me in the gut. I see everything. Do you think I’m some clueless bumpkin idiot? Do you really think that little of me, Zoe? Do you think I didn’t feel you practically climb into my arms every time someone got a little too close as you passed them on the street? Do you think I can’t read the fear and pain and torment written all over your beautiful face?”

  With each word he spoke, my despair deepened, if that was at all possible, and tears cascaded like a thunderous waterfall over my cheeks. Struggling for breaths between sobs, I fell apart.

  “Zoe…”

  I heard Spencer’s voice crack but right now I couldn’t hold him up. I could barely hold myself up. For a long moment the apartment was silent except for the sniffing, snorting, and sobbing.

  “Sp-Spencer?” I stumbled. “Please.”

  “Please what, Zoe? Tell me what you need. Anything, it’s yours,” he promised without hesitation.

  Forcing my heavy, tear-filled eyes open, I saw Spencer. My Spencer. The pain on his face was etched deep and I knew this was destroying him as much as it was me. “Please…please just hold me.”

  Chapter 30

  SPENCER

  I’d done it. I’d fucking broken her. If any part of Zoe was still in one piece when I’d arrived, that was shot to shit now. Seeing her so upset killed me. What made it worse was the completely overwhelming feeling of being torn in two. On the one hand I wanted to pull Zoe from her funk and get the girl I’d always known back. Forget all this shit had ever happened and get back to life. On the other hand, the silent part of me, the part I’d never confess to Zoe existed, wanted to hunt the bastard down who’d done this and rip him limb from limb.

  “Come here, Princess,” I invited, opening my arms wide.

  I’d barely finished the sentence before Zoe collapsed heavily against me. I wanted nothing more than to put her back together, but there was something I had to do first. Something I didn’t want to do, but it needed to be done. Knowing didn’t help the fact I felt like a dick for doing it.

  With one hand on her hip and the other tangled in her wild mane of hair, I tipped her back and looked into her red-rimmed eyes. Her whole face was enveloped in sadness. Puffy and watery. I couldn’t let that deter me. Calling upon the very little strength I had left, I sucked in a deep, painful breath. After planting an apologetic kiss on Zoe’s closed eyelids, I pushed her back as gently as possibly without letting go.

  “Zoe, this is going to suck, but you need to hear it. You’re not okay. I know you’d give anything to go back to how everything was before, but it’s never going to. As much as I wish I it could, we both know it can’t. Now you need to move on. This will eat you alive and destroy everything I love about you if you let it. I’m not going to pretend it’s going to be easy, and I don’t have the answers, but you have to try. I’ll be here, standing beside you as long as you let me. But Zoe, I can’t do this for you. I wish I could. I really do. Right now though, right now you need to do this. You can’t do it for me. Do it for you.”

  I breathed.

  And it burnt.

  It tasted like acid.

  It took a moment, but I knew it was coming. In the pit of my stomach I knew she’d pull away. She didn’t just pull away. Zoe wrenched her body from my arms and stumbled backwards, crashing into the forgotten bench behind her. My hands itched to reach out and steady her, but the look of contempt on her face froze me where I stood.

  “Get…out,” she spat venomously.

  I didn’t want to leave her. Fuck, that was the last thing I wanted.

  I slowly took a half step towards Zoe. She cringed. Until that moment I thought nothing would ever hurt me as much as finding her on the road that day, broken and bleeding, but having Zoe, my precious Zoe, shrink away from me was worse. Much fucking worse.

  “Okay, Zoe,” I conceded with a heavy heart. “I’ll go. But I’ll be back. As much as you don’t want to hear this right now, and even though I know you hate me, you need to know t
hat I love you. All I want is for you to be happy. I’ll go, but I’m taking my phone, and if you need me for anything―anything at all―just call and I’ll be back here before you know it,” I promised.

  With a heavy, pained sigh, Zoe shook her head. “Just go.” She turned and walked away.

  I watched her shuffle out of the room and close the bedroom door behind her. For a full moment I stood there surveying the damage. I was standing alone in her kitchen, unfinished breakfast on the plates, a sink full of warm, sudsy water, and when I heard the groan of the bed, I knew Zoe was falling apart. The pained cries destroyed me. I couldn’t be there. I couldn’t stand there, surrounded by torture. I had to get out.

  I pulled a shirt over my head, grabbed my wallet and keys, and was out the door before I had time for another thought. I needed time. And space. I needed to beat the crap out of something. Or someone. Faced with no other options, taking it out on myself was all I had. Moments later I found myself changing in the cramped cabin of the truck into running shorts and a pair of sneakers before I took off pounding the pavement.

  I had no idea where I was or where I was going, but it didn’t matter. I just needed to run. Run until it burned. The burn would ease the hurt. It didn’t ease. It only got worse. So I pushed harder. Harder than I could remember ever pushing before. Turning the corner onto La Trobe Street, I jogged along the footpath, dodging strangers heavily laden with shopping bags. Weaving in and out of the traffic, slowing at each intersection, I avoided both cars and trams as I made my way up the hill.

  By the time I reached the corner, sweat was running down my face and dripping from my nose. My shirt was plastered to my body, hugging me tight. I stunk. Even I knew I did. I was thirsty. Beyond that, I was desperate for a drink. I ducked into the corner convenience store, and grabbed two bottles of water before crossing the road. Ten minutes and one empty bottle later I found myself lying on the grass in the middle of Fitzroy Gardens. For a long time I just laid on my back, staring at the sky, sucking in oxygen, and replaying the argument with Zoe over and over and over again.

  I should have found a better way of saying what needed to be said. I still stood by my words, but maybe I’d used the wrong ones. Everything I’d said and done was under review. The sun was high in the sky, but the shade from the trees surrounding me kept the temperature comfortable. People trickled through the park in a steady stream. It took me longer than I’d like to admit before I realised why it was so damn busy and people seemed so over enthusiastic on a Sunday afternoon, but when the answer hit I felt like a fool. People streamed past, thickening with each passing moment all dressed alike. A sea of black and white jumpers, beanies, and flags were intermixed with the black top with a vibrant yellow sash. The football was on this afternoon. In the distance a trumpet started with the familiar Collingwood Football Club song, earning a cheer from the growing swell.

  I wanted to go. Sure, I’d seen AFL matches live before, but it had always been at the smaller venues. I’d never seen two of the competition’s heavy weights go head to head at the home of football. A game at the MCG was definitely on the bucket list.

  My feet wobbled beneath me. I’d pushed too hard, but I didn’t care. I’d outrun the pain and frustration. If I had to hobble back to Zoe’s on uncooperative legs, so be it. It wasn’t like I was in a hurry. Besides, who knew what I’d be facing when I got there? Or if I’d even be welcome.

  Slipping amongst the crowd, I moved slowly, the weight of the world on my shoulders. Reaching the corner, I saw the intimidating structure in front of me. The MCG looked like a damn good place to spend the afternoon basking in the sun. Looking around, it appeared that thousands agreed. From every direction they arrived in waves, all in good spirits and ready to be entertained. I was jealous. Seriously jealous.

  Ignoring what I wanted, I decided it was time to face the music. I probably wouldn’t like the tune Zoe was singing, but I owed it to her not to be a coward. It was time to man up. As a maroon tram screeched to a halt at the stop just up ahead, I broke into a run, my muscles screaming in protest as I pushed my way through the throng of people. Fighting my way onto the platform, I squeezed between the doors before they closed with a hiss.

  It was crowded like a damn sardine can. A guy who looked like a millionaire compared to me turned his nose up in disgust as he appraised me. Dressed immaculately in an obviously tailored suit with a straight black tie hanging down his chest and a black and white scarf draped dramatically around his neck, he made me feel out of place. Even dressed in my best I couldn’t compete with that. I wouldn’t even try. As acceptance flooded me, a strange question entered my head. Is this what Zoe really wanted? She was a part of this world…is this where she really belonged? Shaking it off as quickly as it appeared, I couldn’t kill the heaviness that had settled over me.

  As the tram jolted around the corner and screeched to a stop, I jumped off. I knew there was a closer stop to Zoe’s, but I wasn’t in a rush. Part of me didn’t want to go back at all. That wasn’t a possibility, however. With each step my legs burnt with pain. Fuck, it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow, but it didn’t matter. I needed the pain. Physical pain was easier to deal with than emotional bullshit.

  Rounding the corner, I saw her building. If I thought it was hard to walk a minute ago, now I felt like my legs were cased in cement. Or maybe it was my heart. Time seemed to stop. Silence hung in the air, and as I entered the foyer, Henry offered me a strange half smile before shuffling out the door.

  Reaching her door, I tried the handle. The sound of relief fell from my lips when I found it locked. At least she was safe. Lifting my shaky hand, I knocked. A moment passed. It felt like a lifetime, and just when I was about to knock again, the door creaked open. My heart sank.

  Chapter 31

  ZOE

  My heart hurt. Fuck, did it ever.

  And my head. Everything fucking hurt.

  When I saw how defeated Spencer looked I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt like shit. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I was embarrassed to feel the dry, crusty sleep caught in my eyes and my runny nose. It took all my strength to pull the door open wide enough for him to fit through.

  As he passed by me, I felt my whole body stiffen at the same time disgust crossed my mind. I hated that I was afraid of Spencer. I shouldn’t be. Not now. Not ever. Once we were standing in the room face to face, I blurted out, “Sorry.” The moment I did, he did exactly the same.

  It was perfect. It broke the silence and we both fell apart laughing. I only laughed as long as it took for me to realise how damn painful my ribs were. As soon as the painful reminder settled, all the fun fell away and reality came flooding back. It must have shown on my face, because without a word or warning, Spencer yanked me into his arms and crushed me against him.

  He stank. A combination of boy and sweat. It wasn’t pleasant. Being in Spencer’s arms was, so I bit my tongue.

  “Pippi, I shouldn’t have said those things,” he began, heartfelt honesty in his voice.

  “Don’t, Spence. Just don’t. Please. I’ve known you too well for too long for you to start bullshitting me now. What you said―yeah, it fucking hurt, but it needed to be said. I needed to hear it. So don’t pretend. Not with me.” I was surprised with what I’d said. As soon as I’d said it, I was shocked I’d had the balls to do so.

  “Pippi―”

  “Spencer Robert. No more. No more apologies. No more feeling sorry for me. You didn’t do this. This is not your fault. You don’t have to fix me,” I declared adamantly.

  “Anything else?” he asked, the hint of a smile playing on the corner of his lips.

  Stepping out of his embrace was harder than I’d imagined. Somehow I did it. I managed to step away. I took two steps back, folded my arms across my chest, and looked up into his intense eyes. I shouldn’t have. As soon as I did it regret consumed me. I was caught in his trap. Forcing the thought from my mind, I said, “Actually there is.”

  “And what
would that be?”

  “You. Stink. Shower. Now.”

  “What’s in it for me?” he asked in a breathy rush as he leaned in towards me.

  His mouth was barely an inch from mine. I knew if I dropped my head forward, even a little, we’d kiss. It would not be a protective, brother-sister peck, either. The heat between us was climbing.

  I was getting all hot and flustered. Something I didn’t want to be, but couldn’t help. Maybe I was the one who needed the shower. “You shower, then I’ll take you to lunch,” I offered meekly. It was all I could think of. I had to get him away from me.

  With a wicked gleam in his eye, Spencer stepped back, his gaze never once wavering from me. “Better be somewhere good,” he added with a wink before heading towards the bathroom, tugging his shirt over his head as he went.

  I almost fainted at the sight of his tanned, muscular back retreating through my apartment. Forcing myself to blink a few times to force the image from my mind, I stumbled through my lusty haze into the kitchen and grabbed a tall glass of water. I needed to cool down. My pulse was racing and my palms were sweaty. Only Spencer could turn me inside out like this. I both loved and hated him for it. Even though I didn’t want to have all these feelings right now, the upside was at least I knew I still could. The monster hadn’t stolen that from me. The only scary downside was, why did it have to be Spencer who evoked them?

  I heard the shower start, then the terrible singing kicked in. I think it was some deranged rendition of “American Pie,” but I couldn’t be sure. Someone was definitely rolling over in their grave somewhere and cats were covering their ears. Knowing that Spencer was distracted, I ducked into the bedroom and changed. After pulling on jeans, boots, and a shirt, I grabbed my brush and tried to tame my mane. Fuck, my hair was annoying when it wanted to be. Trying to pull it into a bundle and secure it with the clip was proving damn impossible. There was just too much. I gave up. I couldn’t be bothered. I didn’t have the energy. Instead I brushed it a few times and left it out, hanging over my shoulders. After adding some mascara and a swipe of lip gloss, I chanced another look. It wasn’t wonderful. Hell, it wasn’t even good. But it was an improvement.