Home to You (10 page)

In spite of trying to avoid it, we eventually made it over to the hot tub. The alcohol was beginning to loosen my nerves, but nothing could make me forget I was practically naked in Grace’s pathetic excuse for a bathing suit. I sunk deep under the water, did a quick check of my girly parts to make sure they were still covered, then glanced up to see John watching me.
 

He grinned. “Tell me about yourself, Katie?” 

In spite of myself, I found him amusing and couldn’t help but smile back. “I hate that question. It feels like an interview.”
 

“Well, maybe it is.” He winked.
 

His chest was bare, and I couldn’t help my drunken eyes from wandering over his body. He had a cherry blossom tattoo over his left shoulder. I never thought a branch of flowers could look so…manly—but they did. I giggled into my cup, then forced my eyes in another direction. Which turned out to be a mistake. Jake sat directly across from me, the tips of his hair damp and sexy, but Grace was nestled between his parted thighs and ruined the whole thing.
 

I turned back to John.
 

He leaned forward and gave me all his attention. “What do you do for a living?”  

I eyed him over my cup, noticing Jake shift in my peripheral vision. “Photography.”

“Really?” Em asked, and she climbed in and sat to John’s left. “Do you do head shots?”  

I nodded, noticing again how striking her features were. “Are you an actress?”
 

She laughed and shook her head. “Not even close. I’m a web designer.
But
I do need some head shots.”   

“Oh. Well, I’d be happy to trade for tech help. I need a website... I mean, if you have time.”
 

“I would
love
that!” she answered.
 

“Do you do parties, Katie?” Grace cut in, and I reluctantly turned to face her.
 

“Yes,” I replied, though the thought of working for her made my stomach turn.
 

“She’s
not
shooting the party,” Jake interjected.
 

I frowned. “What party?”

“I’m throwing a party for Jake’s thirtieth—”  

“And Katie will be there as a guest,” he stated. “I don’t want you to worry about taking pictures,” he said to me.

“I really don’t mind—”
 

“No.” He cut me off. Then his voice softened. “It’s not a big deal.”
 

“Not a big deal?” Grace scoffed. “It’s your birthday. Everyone will be there.” She turned to face him, and her voice lowered to a muffled whisper.
 

I averted my attention back to John and Em, trying to ignore the conversation between Jake and Grace. But my heart was heavy. I’d almost forgotten Jake’s birthday.

As the night grew to an end, we made our way over the seating area. I curled up at the end of one of the loungers, my towel tight around my chest, as the fire burned low and steady between us. Jake pulled out his old guitar and began strumming the chords to “Ain’t No Sunshine” by Bill Withers.
 

This used to be the norm for us. Nights much like this around the fire, and days filled with little sleep and pots of coffee because we stayed up to watch the sun rise.

John came over and lifted my feet. He sat down beside me, then returned them to his lap. “You look tired.”
 

I laughed under my breath. “I am.”
 

His strong hands took my feet and gently began to knead. “Relax.”
 

I thought to protest, but my eyes grew heavy, and I felt my body sink deeper into the cotton seat of the lounger. “Okay…”
 

The next thing I knew, Jake stood over me and pulled the covers up to my chin. I took in a sharp breath and looked around my bedroom. He must have carried me to bed.
 

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked.

“A couple hours,” he whispered.
 

I cleared the sleep from my throat as I remembered all the times he or Dave had put me to bed when we lived together. “Sorry.” I sat up a little. “Is everyone gone?”
 

“Yeah.” His voice was low and relaxed.

“They must think I’m so rude.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. They understand. Now go back to sleep, Kit Kat.” He flicked off the light. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I nodded, flipped to my side, and for the first time that night, did what he asked without arguing.
 

THE NEXT MORNING, THE ALARM woke me at my normal time. Eight a.m. The same time I took that little green pill for the past two and a half years. The pill that allowed me to walk away from Kevin without the complication of a child, but couldn’t protect me from the questionable practices of his infidelity.

I rolled to my side, reached from the seclusion of the sheets, and tapped the alarm. The room fell into blissful silence.
 

It had been over a week since I found out about Kevin, but the fear of the unknown kept me from seeing a doctor. I’d trusted him with my life, and thinking about all the women he’d cheated with over the years made my stomach turn. Had he used protection with any of them?
 

Soft light filtered through the bedroom window as I examined the small pill in the palm of my hand. In some ways I wanted to kiss the thing for preventing me from getting pregnant; in others, I wanted to throw it across the room because of the reminder I was alone.
 

Today I would make an appointment. I’d procrastinated long enough.
 

The covers were twisted around my body from sleep, and I threw them to the foot of the bed. Grace’s bikini loomed under their surface, and I muttered a curse as I shifted the fabric back over my exposed breast. I bit my lip.
Had it been like that when Jake brought me to bed last night?
Surely not. He would have said something. Wouldn’t he?   

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.