Dismissing the thought, I dragged my aching body to the restroom, discarded Grace’s bathing suit to a pile of laundry, and quickly dressed in a pair of cutoffs and Dave’s old Dodger hoodie. It was practically threadbare in spots and way too large, but it was one of the only things I had left that reminded me of my brother.
The wood floor was cool beneath my feet as I padded down to the kitchen. The counters were cluttered with bottles and discarded plates, and the sight of the empty tequila bottle made my stomach turn. Alcohol had seemed like a good idea last night, but as I tried to calm my aching head, I cursed the man who invented tequila, vowing never to drink it again.
Jake’s kitchen was stocked in a way you’d expect of a bachelor. Lots of beer, very little food. But I was somehow able to rummage together a box of Bisquick and the rest of the ingredients for pancakes.
After doing the dishes, I set a pot of coffee to brew, and a calmness I hadn’t felt in days washed over me. The house was so quiet I could hear the sound of the hot water percolating through the rich grounds as I began mixing up the batter.
When I had it all ready, I went in search of a skillet, and spotted one in a low cupboard. I dropped down to retrieve it from the bottom shelf, but Jake’s voice startled me, and I bolted to my feet like I’d just been caught searching his underwear drawer.
“You scared me,” I said, my hand on my breast as I tried to calm my rapid heart.
“Sorry,” he chuckled. “I thought I smelled coffee.”
He wore a pair of pajama pants tied at his hips, and his bare chest reminded me of the fact he’d carried me to my room last night. I swallowed, then I glanced up to see a smile tug at the corner of his mouth and realized I’d been staring.
“I was just making pancakes,” I explained, placing the skillet on the burner. I sliced a pad of butter from the brick, added it to the pan, then struggled with the knob of the range.
“Here, let me help you.” He came to stand behind me, a hint of amusement in his voice, and brushed my side as he turned the knob to ignite the flame. “You have to push it in first.”
I inhaled the rich, earthy scent of his skin and closed my eyes, trying to force down the growing feelings inside me. “Thank you,” I whispered. Both relieved and disappointed when he moved away.
“When did you learn to cook?” he asked, resting a hip against the counter, watching me.
“It’s just Bisquick, Jake. I’m not sure if that qualifies as cooking.”
“I don’t know... I still remember that frozen lasagna.”
I shook my head at the memory. “It wasn’t that bad.” The butter now sizzled in the pan, and I ladled a spoonful of batter on top.
“It still gives me nightmares.” He grinned.
I narrowed my eyes. “You better watch it, Jake. Your food could easily become compromised.”
“I think I’ll take my chances.”
Right then, with his hair wild from sleep and his eyes twinkling with mischief, he looked so young, like the Jake I had pillow fights with. The Jake who teased me about my nerdy boyfriends. I hadn’t realized until that moment, but he’d seemed different since I’d come back. Harder, tired, closed.
“A lot can change in three years.” I turned back to the pan and flipped the first pancake to a waiting plate.
He shifted a little. “It’s been too long, Katie.” His tone causing a knot to form in the pit of my stomach.
I’d lost count of how many times he’d invited me to come back. But I always knew seeing him again would be painful—I was right. He looked at me expectantly, but what could I even say?
Because just the sound of your voice makes me quiver.
Because I was afraid you’d see the longing in my eyes.
Because I was terrified of falling in love with you again...
But I said nothing, and ladled more batter into the pan. The coffee maker beeped, breaking the silence between us, and Jake retrieved a couple of mugs out of the cupboard. “Will milk be okay? I don’t have any half-and-half.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised by the fact he remembered how I took my coffee, but my heart still squeezed a little. “Yes, thanks.”
Flustered, and not knowing what else to say, I answered his earlier question. “I took a class,” I said, trying to ignore how easily he affected me.
He shook his head, and I realized it had been a while since he asked it.
“To learn how to cook.”
“Oh yeah?” He took a sip of his coffee, but the corner of his mouth lifted from behind his mug.
“Are you laughing at me?” I narrowed my eyes, though inside I was smiling too.
“I’m just happy you’re here, that’s all.” His dimple flashed, and I had to clear my throat before continuing.
“It was when I moved to San Diego. The flyer said it was a great way to meet people.” I flipped another pancake, thinking of how I was the only person in class under the age of sixty-five.
“Is that where you met Kevin?” His voice was tight.
“No,” I said softly, then wanting to chance the subject asked, “Where’s Grace?”
He raised a brow and took another sip of his coffee. “She went home last night.”
“Oh, yeah…” I vaguely recalled him saying so last night. “How long have you guys been together?”
“A few months. She sold me this house.”
“Real estate agent?”
“Yep.”
“So she sells you this house and you fall madly in love?” I laughed, trying to hide the fact that seeing him with another woman still made my blood flow green.
He topped off his mug with more coffee and smiled. “She works for the agency that sends us most of our clients.”
Oh. My brows furrowed. “Doesn’t that make things complicated? Mixing business with pleasure?”
He shrugged, then completely ignored my question and nodded toward my hoodie. “I remember that shirt.”
I cleared my throat and poked a finger through a hole on the sleeve. “Yeah, it’s seen better days.” But inside a bubble of fear grew in my stomach. Did Jake love her? Getting into a relationship with someone so close to his business didn’t seem like the Jake I knew.
“I think this was from when Dave and I painted the old house together.” He ran a hand down a streak of brown on my arm, and my worries about Grace were replaced by memories of my brother. My chest tightened.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” It had been so long since anyone mentioned Dave that the sound of his name caught me off guard.
“It looks better on you.” He smiled his crooked smile, then excused himself to get the paper.
When he turned the corner, I leaned against the counter and tried to collect my thoughts. Being around Jake brought back so many feelings I hadn’t been prepared for. Feelings I thought had dulled but in reality were as sharp as a razor. I blew out a breath, told myself to calm down and got back to work flipping pancakes.
With the table set, I looked out of the bay window, taking in the view of the backyard. It was beautiful, and after I finished my chores, I thought I might treat myself to a dip in the pool. When I turned around, Jake was right behind me, and I slammed into the wall of his chest.
“Ooof!” He laughed. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore his warm skin that was so close to my lips I could taste it.
“Did you need something?” His voice was deep and smooth, and I looked up to see him smiling.
You.
“Butter.” The familiar tug twisted in my abdomen, and I let out a shuttered breath.
He smoothed a lock of hair away from my face before turning toward the fridge. “Syrup?”
“Yes, please,” I muttered, then grabbed my coffee and took a long sip. Only a week ago I planned to spend the rest of my life with another man. But sitting there in that kitchen, a plate full of Bisquick pancakes in front of me, I realized the last three years had been a total lie. My heart had neve
r been Kevin’s. It couldn’t have been. It lived over a hundred miles away—here with Jake.
When he returned to the table a minute later, he wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses that made him look like Clark Kent. A very sexy, half naked Clark Kent.
“Nice glasses,” I said, unable to contain my grin as I sliced a pat of butter and spread it over my pancakes.
“Thanks.” His brows furrowed, but a smile lingered at the corner of his lips. “They’re for reading.”
“You need glasses for reading now?” I raised my brows in that teasing way that told him he was getting old. The one thing I held over him and used whenever possible as payback for all the times he and Dave called me a baby.
“I know.” He scratched his head. “I’m almost thirty, how’d that happen?”
I smiled, then stood and grabbed the coffee pot to refill my mug. “So what’s this party thing Grace was talking about last night?”
“I don’t know. Something she’s been planning for a while.” He shrugged.
“Here? At the house?”
“Yeah…”
“Oh.” I frowned. It wasn’t like him to have big parties. In fact, he hated them… Sorrow gathered in my chest, and I poured syrup on top of my pancakes. So much had changed since I’d been gone.
By twelve o’clock I had most of my clothes unpacked, my laundry sorted, and a doctor appointment scheduled for Monday afternoon. Jake was in the living room watching a Dodger game, and I could periodically hear him yelling at the screen. Just like the old days. Before one perfect kiss tore us apart.
I gathered a load of laundry from the floor, stopped to add the purple bikini to the load, then headed out to the garage. As I passed him on the couch, the sound of Kevin’s unmistakable voice filled my ears. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and I whipped around, scanning the room for his face. My body stiffened, and my eyes locked on the television.
A wildfire blazed on the screen, and Kevin’s smooth voice reported the devastation. My hands dropped, and the laundry slid from my arms to a pile on the floor. There he was, that gorgeous face that used to make me swoon, now projected on the sixty-inch television screen.
“Katie?”
I barely heard Jake’s voice as I wrapped my arms around my stomach. This wasn’t the first time Kevin had been on TV, but it was scarce enough that I wasn’t expecting it.
“I found condoms in his pocket once—I’d already been on the pill for over a year.” I laughed a little, a hollow laugh with no humor. “I actually believed him when he said he’d forgotten to take them out.”
I felt Jake move behind me but didn’t turn around. “Then someone left a note in my inbox, warning me that he hadn’t been faithful—that’s when I knew.” I turned to face him. “There were three of them that I know of, but probably more.” I closed my eyes, not sure why I was telling him all this, but in that moment, it was important to me.
He tried to speak, but I shook my head, needing to finish. “People in the office actually covered for him. One of the women was even supposed to be my friend.” My throat constricted, and I had to swallow before I spoke again. “I hired a private investigator. A fucking PI—like one of those cheater shows we used to watch as kids.” I looked into his eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
My body began to shake, and he pulled me into his arms. His grip so tight it almost crushed me.
“That fucking asshole.” His voice was low, mixed with a protection for me, and a hatred for Kevin.
“He said he loved me.” My voice cracked on the words, and I closed my eyes. “What kind of love is that?” It felt good to share my burdens, to know that others knew my secrets, but at the same time—I was ashamed. I pulled away and wiped at my face with the back of my hand. “Yeah, so…” I looked down to the laundry on the ground, desperate to lift the cloud that filled the room. “Maybe if I wasn’t so bad at laundry,” I joked.
He caught my hand and stilled me. “You did nothing wrong.”
His voice was soft but held an edge. I closed my eyes, swallowed the bitter tears that threatened the back of my throat—but it was too late. I was fighting a losing battle.
My chin began to quiver, and he crushed me to his chest again. “Shit… Don’t cry. That asshole doesn’t deserve your tears.”
I nodded into his chest and accepted the comfort I’d been needing all week. The comfort I knew would be here when I came back. A knock sounded at the door, and I immediately pushed away.
John peered through the screen door, his brows furrowed, and he shook his head a little. “Should I come back later?”
Jake turned to answer, and I picked up my pile of clothes, ran to the garage, and threw the laundry to the top of the machine. I heard Jake enter a couple minutes later, but I couldn’t face him. I’d made a fool out of myself, made things look so much worse than they really were. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “That looked really bad.”
He ignored my words and came closer. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, using every bit of my self-control not to lose it again.
“I can tell him to go away. He’s just here to watch the game.”
I shook my head, turned to face him, and forced myself to take a breath. “Don’t do that. I’m fine. Really. Go enjoy your game.”
“Katie…” His eyes were filled with sympathy, and I looked down at my hands. That was the last thing I wanted from him.
“Please?”
He nodded. “Okay. But I’m here if you want to talk.”
“I know.”
I thought he might say more, but he didn’t. He dropped his hands to his sides and walked back into the house.
When I heard the click of the door, my body sagged, and I dropped to the garage floor. Jake knew. There was something so final about that. Something that made the whole thing so much more real. My lips began to quiver again, and I finally allowed myself to grieve. To mourn the loss of a life I’d started to believe in.
THE NEXT MORNING, STANDING IN a terry cloth robe, I looked down at Kevin’s name glowing neon green across my phone. I had to leave for the interview in an hour. My hair was still damp, my face naked, and I had no clue what I was going to wear—I didn’t have time for more excuses, not that I wanted to talk to him even if I did. I swiped the screen, sending Kevin to voicemail, and pulled another top from my closet.
I should’ve decided on an outfit last night, but Jake and I ended up eating cold pizza and watching movies until midnight. I’d been worried things would’ve changed after I told him about Kevin’s infidelity. That he’d look at me in that same sympathetic way he’d done in the garage. But when I came inside, we both went on like I hadn’t just crumbled to pieces in his arms.
My phone buzzed with a new text, and I closed my eyes, knowing it was Kevin again. I looked down to the screen on the dresser and froze.
KEVIN: Pick up the fucking phone!
What the hell? Who did he think he was?
ME: I’m sorry, you must have mistaken me for one of your WHORES. I’m busy.
KEVIN: Cute. Where the fuck are they, Katie?
My chest tightened, and I looked around my room wondering if I’d packed something of his by mistake.
ME: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
And I didn’t. I had no clue.
KEVIN: Don’t play games with me. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.
“Having problems?” Jake’s amused voice startled me, and I spun around to see him standing at my bedroom door.
My heart was running crazy, but I shook my head and turned off my phone. Whatever was bothering Kevin wasn’t my problem, and I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up to Mr. Fix-It. “I can see you still haven’t learned to knock.”
Jake’s adorable smile gleamed at me, and he held up two mugs. “My hands were full.”
I pressed my lips together to hold back a grin and walked toward him. “Let me get this straight, you couldn’t knock, but you were able to open the door just
fine?”
He shrugged, and I took a mug from his hand.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, then gestured a chin to the mess all over my bed. “What are you doing in here anyway?”
“I have an interview, remember?”
“So you decided to throw your clothes all over the room?” He raised one eyebrow, clearly amused.
I looked around, taking in the scene through different eyes. My clothes were on every surface, my blow dryer and makeup on the floor by the mirror, and my shoes in a large pile in front of the closet. “Oh, be quiet.” I yanked another shirt from the closet and held it under my chin. “This is important. I have to look perfect.”
He glanced from my bare feet to my wet hair, then took a sip of his coffee. “You already do.”
The seriousness of his tone made my breath catch. “Thanks.” He’d always said stuff like that, and a part of me wished he wouldn’t. That’s what made him so easy to love.
I hung the top back in the closet, determined to stay on task. “What are you doing home anyway? It’s already nine thirty. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Paperwork,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I decided to stay home so the guys wouldn’t bug me every two seconds.”
“You mean the way you’re bugging me?” I raised my eyebrows, then grabbed another top.
“Very funny.” He shoved a hand in his pocket and grinned. “You know you can’t get enough of me.”
He was kidding, but his words couldn’t have been more true. After all these years I still craved his company more than chocolate—even the peanut butter filled kind.
He turned toward the door. “I’m going to make some eggs, you want some?”
I shook my head. “No thanks, I’m too nervous.”
His forehead creased. “You can’t survive on coffee, Katie.”
Katie. I was always Katie when he disapproved of something I did.
Home to You Page 7