Come Home to Me (A Brookside Romance Book 5)

by Abby Brooks

  “There’s a reason.” I look him in the eyes and hope he can see the truth of what I’m saying. “I’ll come back.”

  He looks so vulnerable. I regret telling him no one can count on me to stick around. I can almost see those words behind his eyes, spreading doubt when there should be nothing but certainty. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Sarah.”

  “I mean it. You said it in the elevator, and it’s true. I don’t know what this is between us, but I love every minute of it. I’ll be back. I couldn’t stay away if I wanted to. I miss you when you’re in your office and I’m at my desk, when there’s just a handful of feet separating us. I can’t imagine having a thousand miles between us.”

  Frank smiles but stays silent as he unfastens his seatbelt and climbs out of the car. I do the same and follow him to his apartment, grateful when he takes my hand. With his fingers entwined with mine, I feel calmer. Safer. Stronger.

  He leads me into his apartment, talking through the logistics of getting me home to Brookside and then back to Denver. “We’ll worry about where you’re staying when you get back, but I’m tired of you living in that terrible hotel. I’ll pay for a better place, if it comes to that. In the meantime, the clothes you don’t take with you to Ohio can stay here. As can your car.” He lowers himself onto the couch and I crouch in front of him.

  “First plane tickets and then a place to stay? Your kindness amazes me, but I can’t let you—”

  Frank leans forward and puts a finger to my lips. “You can. And you will. I have a good job and I have the money to spend. It’s not up to you how I spend it.”

  I open my mouth to speak, trying to find words to express the gratitude rushing through me.

  For his kindness.

  His generosity.

  For…him.

  Before I find the words, before I can tell him that he’s the best thing to ever happen in my whole life, he slides off the couch and kneels in front of me.

  Our eyes lock.

  There’s a moment.

  I swear he sees everything I want to say.

  Understands it.

  Accepts it.

  And beyond that, I see the same thing in him. Acceptance of who I am. Gratitude for…me. I can’t imagine what I’ve brought him that he didn’t already have, but I can’t question it. Not now. Not when he’s right here in front of me, his face filled with emotion, his eyes filled with heat.

  I cup his face.

  Run a finger along his stubble, the sound scratching through the space between us. I memorize the moment, the strong lines of his cheeks and jaw. His long nose. Those expressive eyes. The light diffused by the blinds, making the living room dim and dusky.

  I kiss him and sigh. The answer to everything is right here. Right now. Though I don’t understand the question and the thought diffuses like smoke, thinning, ever more nebulous until it’s gone.

  All I know is his lips against mine. His hands in my hair. The firm tug as he wraps my dark locks around his fist. My gasp fills the space as he trails kisses down my jaw, devouring me, consuming me.

  He squeezes my breasts, desperation in his touch, then yanks my shirt over my head and buries his face in them. Licking. Biting. Sucking.

  I dig my fingers into his hair and close my eyes. Whatever this is between us, it will change me.

  It has changed me.

  I’m not the same Sarah I was when I left Ohio. I’m new. I’m better. I’m growing.

  His fingers work the zipper on my skirt and I shimmy it off my hips. His touch leaves electricity in its wake. Glowing trails of him along my skin. It sinks into me, his essence becoming mine, and I realize that I truly don’t deserve him. Frank Wilde is so much better than me, so much more than I ever have been.

  I watch as his fingers work at the buttons at his wrist. Then as he moves to the buttons along his torso. He slides the shirt off his shoulders, then removes his undershirt. His pants. His briefs.

  His cock strains toward me and I make a silent promise as he helps me to my feet and guides me into the bedroom.

  I will be a better person for him.

  I will be the kind of woman who deserves a man like this.

  I’ll go home and face whatever problems I have waiting for me there, but when I come back, I’ll earn myself a place in Frank’s heart.

  Heaven knows he’s already earned a place in mine.

  Sarah

  It’s not easy to say goodbye to Frank. Not just because I know what’s waiting for me in Ohio, but also because leaving him feels like the most unnatural thing in the world. I get on the plane with a heavy heart, afraid to hope for a peaceful resolution with my dad. I text Frank when I land, then meet Colton and Tessa at baggage claim. They each hug me, clinging to me like they’re afraid to let go.

  Colton’s the first to pull away. “I really missed you.” His eyes meet mine and then trail across my face, a question tilting his head. “You look good,” he says. “Like, really good.” He turns to Tessa who repeats his actions, her gaze moving across my body, my face, and then landing on my eyes.

  “He’s right,” Tessa says. “Denver suits you.”

  Colton tosses my bags into the back of his truck and I apologize again for missing their wedding. “It was really selfish of me.” I hold up a hand as Tessa begins making excuses for me. “And I’m tired of being selfish,” I continue. “I recognize that my choices affect other people and it’s past time for me to own my mistakes. So, again, I’m sorry. I can’t make it up to you, but I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  Tessa and Colton share a look before accepting my apology and reminding me there’s no need to apologize. I don’t argue, even though I completely disagree. There is so much I need to apologize for. So much.

  We head straight for the hospital and I spend the time watching familiar scenery speed past my window. I haven’t been gone very long, barely two months, but so much has changed since the last time I was here. Or rather, not much has changed at all.

  Only me.

  Before, I found everything about Ohio boring. Now, I appreciate the long, open stretches of fields. The occasional clump of trees. The blue skies touching the horizon, uninterrupted by snowy peaks. The terrain is so different from what I’ve gotten used to in Denver, my hometown almost feels alien.

  My phone buzzes in my hand.

  Frank: My heart is with you. Be safe. Be strong. Take time to do this right.

  Tears waver in my eyes and I brush them away before replying.

  Me: I’m so scared

  Frank: I know

  Me: But that’s what makes this so important

  Frank: I know that, too

  Me: Thank you for helping me see that

  Frank: I’m here, if you need to talk

  Me: I’ll call you when I’m alone?

  Frank: please

  I want to tell him how much he means to me, how much I miss him, but we arrive at the hospital and suddenly, all the words in my head go blank.

  “Dad knows I’m coming, right?” I ask as Colton kills the engine and pulls the keys from the ignition.

  He meets my eyes through the rearview. “He does.”

  “And he’s okay with it?”

  “He is.” Colton swings open the truck door.

  I don’t believe him. I can’t imagine after all the time we’ve spent apart, after mom telling me that Dad wasn’t ready to see me on New Year’s, after all the other women who have been more a part of the family than me, that Dad would ever want to see me again.

  In a daze, I climb out of the truck and follow my brother and his wife through the hospital. Eyes glazed. Fear tromping through my chest. A vice grip on my heart.

  When we walk into his room, my eyes fall briefly on an old man in my father’s bed. Small. Pale. Fragile. Intellectually, I know it’s my dad, but my heart rejects it outright.

  Mom pushes out of her chair and wraps me in her arms, her chest heaving as her tears darken my shirt.

  “My girl,” she says,
her hands on my shoulders, my arms, my face. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  The words break her. She swallows hard, smiling while she cries, unable to stop touching me. I want to bury my face in her neck, breathe in all the scents of home, and cry, but I pull away and turn to my dad.

  His eyes are open. Staring me down. The look on his face, unreadable.

  My heart stops. My breath catches. Time freezes.

  And then…he lifts his hand. Reaches for me.

  “Sarah…”

  I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard my name wrapped in his voice. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him look at me like I was anything but despicable.

  Chin trembling, I step closer. Take his hand.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  Somewhere, someone sniffs. Colton brings me a chair and I sit, my eyes locked on my father’s. There’s so much to say. I don’t know where to start. I remember Frank’s words. Just be there. So, I pat his hand, his skin like parchment, thin and worn. I hold his gaze, his image wavering through the tears in my eyes.

  And he smiles.

  It’s tiny. A movement so small I might have missed it, but damn it. It’s there.

  After all this time. All the things we never should have said. All the fear and worry and hurt. The first thing my dad does when he sees me is smile.

  Mom comes to stand behind me, her hand on my shoulder. Colton stands at my side, his arm wrapped around Tessa. David walks through the door with his wife and children. His eyes land on mine and his face softens.

  My dad sighs. Closes his eyes and swallows hard. “You’re all here.” The words grate through his throat, heavy with emotion. His eyes open and settle on mine. “All of you.” Years of history waver in his gaze as he studies my face. “It’s been too long since our family was whole. I’m glad you came, Sarah.”

  Mom tightens her grip on my shoulder and a sob hiccups past my lips. There’s so much between us. So many years to understand, to apologize for. But not yet. Not now. Instead, I squeeze my father’s hand. Lick my lips. Wipe away my tears.

  “Yeah, Dad,” I say, when I can finally trust my voice. “Me too.”

  Sarah

  Two nights later, I finally tell my brothers what happened between Dad and me. While we sit in David’s kitchen, they listen with dropped jaws and pursed eyebrows, trying to wrap their minds around the story as I explain the day I sat our parents down and told them I was pregnant. I relive my fear and confusion. My knowledge that I wasn’t ready to be a mother and my absolute certainty that I couldn’t get an abortion—my heart wouldn’t have survived.

  I explain the way our father’s face turned to stone. My horror when he said he wanted me to end the pregnancy. His insistence that his way was the only way even when Mom suggested adoption as an alternative and I cried and cried and cried, knowing I couldn’t put an end to the life inside me. The life that bled out of me just a few days later.

  Dad drew a hard line, one he didn’t explain and one I didn’t understand. One I still don’t understand to this day. I pour out my confusion to my brothers and they watch me, understanding dawning on their faces as all the things that never made sense suddenly become crystal clear.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Colton asks. “We could have helped you through it. Jesus, Sarah…” He looks to David who nods and voices his agreement.

  I hang my head, remembering the urgency in Mom’s voice as she pulled me aside. Her voice was little more than a whisper, harsh and hard, tears filling her wide eyes.

  Don’t tell a soul, she said. Not David. Not Colton. Not your friends.

  The memory still hurts. It tugs at my heart and reminds me that whatever I used to be to my parents, from that day forward I was nothing but an embarrassment to hide from the rest of the world.

  I blink away the memory and meet my brothers’ eyes. “Mom told me not to tell anyone. I think she was ashamed of me.”

  “I wasn’t ashamed of you.” Our mother’s voice comes from behind us and I turn to find her leaning in the doorway, looking older and sadder than I remember her. “I was scared for you. Shocked that we had to deal with something that big when you were still so young. But I wasn’t ashamed of you. I was ashamed of your father.” She smiles weakly and then sighs before pushing off the wall. “I didn’t want the boys to know what he was asking you to do because I was afraid they’d think what he was doing was right.”

  “So instead, you let me think everything about me was wrong?” I sit back in my chair and swallow down the rest of my words, hurtful, toxic things that have been sitting in my heart for too long.

  “Really, Mom?” Colton holds out his hands and then lets them drop to his lap. “You let Sarah go through all of that alone because you thought we couldn’t tell right from wrong?”

  David makes an exasperated sound. “I don’t even know what to think right now. I spent the last couple years believing my sister was a spoiled brat, and now I find this out…” He trails off and shakes his head.

  Mom pulls out a chair and sits. “You kids don’t come with instruction manuals and sometimes it seems like the only choices in front of us are bad ones. When all you see are hard decisions, how do you know which choice will cause the least pain? The whole situation got away from me. And now here we are.”

  Anger rises through my system. “Where are we Mom?” I ask, hoping she has something better to say than what she’s already said.

  Mom looks me in the eyes and the sadness in her gaze settles into my gut. She sucks in her lips, puts her hand on mine, and then lets out a long breath. “We’re on the way to righting what’s gone wrong between us.”

  Two days after that, I find myself alone with my father in his hospital room while he sleeps. He and I haven’t been able to talk much since I’ve been in Ohio. As much as Dad and I have to say to each other, he needs his rest now more than ever. It’s funny. I know I’m supposed to consider Ohio home, but I really don’t. After just two short months, home is the feeling I get when I’m wrapped in Frank’s arms.

  From time to time, Dad jolts awake, calling out my name. His eyes wide and wild, like he’s still afraid he’s dreaming. When his gaze finds mine, he relaxes into his pillows, relief softening his features. Once he murmured something that sounded like please don’t leave, but he fell back to sleep without saying much else.

  I study the man in the bed. So old. So weak. My memories have twisted and churned until my father became a monster in my head. An angry man. Huge and strong and capable of breaking me with little more than a harsh glance or a scathing word.

  For the last several years, my father has been the source of all my outrage, the scapegoat for all my problems. Every mistake I made could be traced back to the rift between us. And now that I’m here beside him and I see that he’s just a person, an old man struggling to hold on, all the things I thought I knew seem wrong. Built on broken foundations and faulty suppositions.

  While he sleeps, I replay our conversations. Listen to all the things he said that have been stuck in my head for years, poisoning me from the inside out. I’m ready to heal, but in order to do that, he and I need to talk, and that’s hardly possible in his current state. How do I start my own healing process when his is so much more pressing?

  Is it enough that I’m here?

  What can he ever say that will erase the pain of his rejection?

  Can we really move beyond our past?

  “He loves you. I hope you know that.” The voice surprises me and I turn to find my mother in the doorway.

  “You really like sneaking up on me, don’t you?” I drop my gaze to my lap and twist my hands together. “Honestly? No. I don’t know that he loves me.”

  Mom bobs her head and stares at the ground. “He thought he was doing what was best for you. In his mind, you were destined for so much more than life on a farm. You had this spark. This fire in your soul. He always said he knew you were destined for something more.”

  “He sure has a funny way
of showing it.”

  “Well, that’s your dad.” Mom attempts a smile but I’m not ready to joke about this topic.

  I look away.

  “The thing is, when you have children, your life stops belonging to you. It belongs to them from that point forward and there’s beauty in that, there really is. But your dad didn’t want you to lose that—” Mom holds out her hands as if she’s cupping something precious “—that special thing he always saw in you.”

  “Why didn’t he say that?”

  “He tried. You didn’t hear. Teenaged you was…”

  “Difficult,” I finish for her.

  Mom shakes her head. “Determined. Strong. Eager to earn her spot in the world. You were too busy proving that to hear anything he was saying.”

  And so…

  …still…

  …after all these years, the fault lies with me.

  My mother sighs. “And honestly, he was too busy being stubborn to make you hear him. He wasn’t listening and I know I wasn’t listening either, but I’m listening now.”

  Frank

  After nearly a full Sarah-less week, I realize just how empty my life is without her around. I love my job, but there’s nothing but work to look forward to. I love my apartment, but it feels empty without her energy filling the space. All too often since she left, I’ve sat at home, TV on, browsing on my phone after work. The evening passes without me noticing and time flies by with nothing to show for it. My mood suffers, brightening only when she texts me, which is often, but not often enough.

  I’ve come to need her. To depend on her. She is the reason I smile.

  As good as it feels to fall in love, and yes, I came to terms with the fact that I’m falling in love with Sarah the moment she stepped on that plane, I know I can’t place that kind of importance on someone. Ultimately, I am the one in control of my emotions, the one in charge of bringing myself happiness. If I let that task fall to her, then I’m no better than I was when alcohol started taking over my life.

  I should love her without needing her.