Home to You (4 page)

“There’s no way that’s enough. I’m starving.” Jake picked up the bag and added what must’ve been a half a cup more.
 

“How long should we put it in for?” He looked back at me over his shoulder.  

I lifted my shoulders. “Five minutes maybe?”

“Works for me.” He put the folded-up grocery bag in the microwave, entered the time, and pressed start. When he turned around, his eyebrows were raised with mischief, and his fists rested low on his hips.
 

“Why are you standing like that?” I questioned.

“Like what?” he asked, his smile producing that adorable dimple.  

“Like Superman.” I grinned.
 

His smile turned shy and he shook his head at me. “Whatever.”

“You want to be him, don’t you?” I couldn’t help laughing a little.

“Umm... Of course I do. Who doesn’t want to be Superman?”  

“Do we have any butter?” Dave asked, ignoring our little conversation and opening the fridge.  

“We
did
, but you guys probably ate that too.” I jumped up to sit on the counter.

A couple minutes passed with no popping and I began to grow wary. “Why isn’t it popping yet?”  

“Patience, Kit Kat,” Jake replied, and wagged his eyebrows at me.  

As if on cue, the microwave started to make a few faint popping noises, and Jake looked at me with an
I told you so
smile.
 

“Do you smell that?” Dave asked.
 

“What?” I sniffed the air and my eyes instantly widened.

“Shit!” Jake said, opening the microwave door.  

When he pulled out the bag it was smoking, and a small red hole revealed blackened kernels inside.
 

“Well, I guess that didn’t work,” Dave murmured.

Then the hole grew bigger, and before I knew what was happening, the bag ignited to flames in Jake’s hands.   

I panicked and began to wave my hands, and blow at the same time.

“Stop waving your arms and get the damned fire extinguisher!” Dave yelled.
 

“Where is it?” I screamed, frantically spinning in circles.

“Fuck this.” Jake threw the burning mass into the sink. The smoke alarm screeching as the flames grew bigger and bigger.
 

Jake and I began opening every cupboard searching for the extinguisher when Dave stepped toward the sink, flicked on the faucet, and extinguished the growing flames. “Idiots!”   

Jake and I turned to one another and burst into fits of laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Dave yelled as he pulled the battery from the alarm. “We almost burned down the damned house!”
 

Jake and I sobered as we watched Dave storm out of the kitchen.
 

“He looks really mad,” I said, trying to suppress the laughter that bubbled in the back of my throat.

“He just has a stick up his ass ’cause we burnt his dinner.”

We both started laughing again, and I had to cross my legs because I was afraid I would pee my pants. “Oh I love you.”

Jakes eyes twinkled and he looked at me sideways. “Well, that’s a first.”
 

I sobered. “What?” But I knew what he was talking about. I hadn’t meant to say the words. They just slipped out.
 

“No one has ever said that to me before.”
 

That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Sure, I’d never said the words before, but there was no way I was buying it. “Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “Everyone loves you.”
 

He shrugged. “It’s true.” Not seeming to care if I believed him or not.

“Your parents?” I pointed out, as if to say
duh.

“Nope. They’re just not the type. I know they love me, they just don’t say it.”

Wow
. Hearing that made me a little sad. I always knew his parents were a couple of jerks, but to never say
I love you
to their own child? I suddenly understood so much about him. Understood why he always swore he’d never have a family of his own. Why he spent everyday at our house growing up.

Even though I hadn’t meant to say the words the first time, in that moment, I was compelled to say them again. “Well, it’s true… I love you, Jake Johnson.” I smiled a big cheesy grin, trying to lighten the words I’d held inside for nine years.

His eyes crinkled at the corners—but his stomach growled at the same time, breaking some of the seriousness that had settled over us. He patted it like it was its own life-form, then glanced at the burnt mass in the sink. “I’m gonna taste it.”

“No, you’re not. It’s all burnt and disgusting.” I looked down at the puddle of soggy, blackened popcorn in the sink.

He raised an eyebrow like I’d dared him, picked up a large chunk, and tossed it in his mouth.
 

My eyes widened with shock and disgust as I watched him chew and swallow.
 

“Not bad.” He shrugged, then smiled his crooked smile again.

I shook my head at his willfulness but couldn’t help feeling amused. “Come on, I think I have some money stashed in my room. Let’s go see what we can get off the dollar menu.”
 

“I knew you were holding out on us.” He threw his arm over my shoulder, kissed my cheek, and we walked out of the kitchen.
 

My heart soared high that day. I was the first person to ever say I loved him. He never said the words back,
but something else changed between us that afternoon. There was a closeness, an understanding that went so much deeper than it ever had before. It was after that day I began to think something might actually happen between us, and it was after that day everything fell apart.

Three years earlier

DRESSED IN THE BOXERS AND a cami I’d worn to bed the night before, I searched the crowded emergency room for a familiar face. My heart was in my throat as I scanned from seat to seat, my legs like gelatin as I stepped over someone’s outstretched legs looking for a glimpse of my mom.
 

When our eyes locked, it was as if I floated over to her. Not even remembering the movements it took to get there. She looked pale and gray, much like she had nine years earlier when we waited for news about my father. Though this time maybe even worse. Not because she was older, but because she waited to hear the news of her only son.
 

“We don’t know anything yet.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she squeezed my hand.  
 

“What happened?” I sat down, not knowing if I wanted answers, only that I needed to say something to fill the void in my chest with noise so I wouldn’t fall apart.
 

“He was talking with an inspector—someone lost control of the crane—” Her voice cracked, unable to continue, but I’d heard enough. Whatever happened was bad enough that he was in surgery. So bad that we hadn’t heard anything in an hour.
 

My eyes burned with unshed tears, and I felt like a ton of bricks landed on my chest. I didn’t want to cry. Crying meant that something was wrong, and I wasn’t ready to accept that. God wouldn’t do that to me. He’d already taken my father. He couldn’t have my brother too.

 
I glanced around the waiting area, spotting Jake in a far-off corner of the room. He was all alone, and blood covered the front of his shirt. His eyes were fixed and glassy, and I wanted to go to him. For him to hold me, for me to hold him, but my mom began to tremble next to me, reminding me of how she was after Dad died. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed. Mom needed me. I needed to be strong. I was okay. Everything would be okay.
 

With senses on high alert, I heard the electric doors before the doctor pulled down his mask and entered the room.
 

He called my mom’s name and we both stood, using each other for support. He came toward us, and before he uttered the words, I knew.
 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. McGregor, we did everything we could.”  

My mom sagged in my arms, and my mind filled with static. I watched the doctor’s mouth move, unable to comprehend anything else he said. All I knew was that my brother was gone, and nothing else mattered.
 

Mom and I were invited back to say our goodbyes, and I looked over my shoulder, scanning the room for Jake. He wasn’t in the corner where I’d last seen him. He needed to be there. Dave was his best friend; he needed to be able to say goodbye.

People were everywhere, nurses rushing back and forth, and there was a baby crying in her mother’s arm—so many people. I spun around among the chaos, and the whole room began to echo. Then I saw him, way at the other side of the room. His back was turned, and he was walking down the hall on his way out of the hospital. I wanted to call out, to run to him and tell him not to leave, but I felt Mom shaking in my arms beside me and knew she needed me calm. I held her tightly, my heart ripping farther out of my chest with each breath, but I was in shock. I hadn’t shed a single tear.
 

When I returned to the house hours later, Jake was sitting forward on the couch, his head in his hands, and I dropped my bag to the apartment floor.
 

He looked up, and the torment I saw in his eyes caused a ball of tears to thicken the back of my throat.
 

He needed me.

I needed him.

We needed each other.  

Before I could say anything, he was on his feet, crossing the room in two powerful strides. “I’m so sorry.” He crushed me hard against his chest, and my whole body sagged against him.
 

He gripped me to him, and I pressed my face to the smooth cotton of his shirt. I could feel his heartbeat, the warmth of his breath, the deep rumble of his voice. I needed all of it. Needed confirmation that the only other man I’d ever loved in my life was still alive.
 

“I was supposed to be there,” he whispered.
 

His words came like a confession, laced with guilt and pain. Then his strong hands trailed down my back, and he sunk to his knees in front of me. “It was supposed to be me.”
 

My hands fell to his hair, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. “I couldn’t get to him, Katie.”

My chest heaved. “No, Jake…don’t.” I was choking, every word painful. “No…”

“He told me, but I didn’t listen.” His voice was raw and hollow.

Hot tears began to fall for the first time. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I couldn’t stand to hear him blame himself. “It’s not your fault, Jake. It was nobody’s fault.”
My voice was strange and broken. I tried to lift him to his feet, but he was too heavy, and his shoulders began to shake. I’d known him for seventeen years, since he was little boy, and never once had I seen him like this. It terrified me.
 

I sank to the floor next to him, pulling him to me with strength I didn’t know I had. My fingers found his damp hair, and I smoothed it back from his face. “It’ll be okay, Jake, it’ll be okay.” Even as I said the words, I wasn’t sure I believed them. How could the world be okay without my brother?
 

He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and wild with pain, and I trailed my hand down the side of his jaw. “I’m so sorry.”  

“Shh…” he whispered, and in an instant that part of him was locked away again.
 

He stood, lifted me in his arms, and carried me to the couch. I buried my face in his neck, and he sat with me in his lap. My body began to tremble with my grief, and the tears I’d been trying to hold back began to flow. He gripped me tighter, held me secure, and rocked me gently.

He told me everything would be okay. That he would always be there, that he would take care of me, and I felt my hair grow damp with the wetness of his tears. He held me well into the night, when exhaustion finally took me. I awoke early the next morning, tangled in Jake’s embrace. But my heart was empty. My brother was still gone.

Three weeks after Dave’s death, the escrow closed on our childhood home. The deal had already been in place, and Mom had already purchased another home in Colorado—but I pleaded for her to back out.