Come Home to Me (A Brookside Romance Book 5)

by Abby Brooks

  “As if that makes it any better…” Jason pauses. Furrows his brow. Peers around the living room as if he’s looking for something. “Where is Sarah anyway? Please tell me you didn’t turn into Drunk Frank and do something stupid.”

  I snort and then place a hand on my aching head. Of all the people who abandoned me after I stopped drinking the first time, Jason stuck around. He knows who I am when I drink. He knows it’s not pretty. He knows the destruction I can bring. “I kicked her out.”

  Jason’s jaw drops. “Why in the hell would you do something stupid like that?”

  I explain everything that’s happened over the last couple days, then go back to the beginning and explain it all from the start. I tell him about paying for Sarah’s car repairs, allude to the problems she’s had with her family without going into too much detail, explain why she had to go back to Ohio, and the way Bree found us the day Sarah got the call from her brother. “It’s all just gone to hell. And then, the day they fired me, Bree shows up here and tries to throw herself at me. I actually had to put hands on her to get her to leave.”

  Jason’s eyebrows spring into his hairline.

  “I didn’t hurt her. But she did stumble right out of a shoe. A shoe Sarah found when she came back yesterday.” My memories of last night come back to me. They cut, opening fresh wounds. “God, I was such an asshole, man.” I look at Jason as the weight of what I’ve done falls onto my shoulders and I nearly collapse under the weight.

  “Sounds about right.”

  “You haven’t heard all of it yet. I told Sarah I slept with Bree.” Hearing the words out in the open brings the gravity of the situation into focus. Last night I thought Sarah would be better off if she could go back to Ohio and continue rebuilding her relationship with her family. Today, I can’t imagine my life without her. Dread sits heavy in my gut.

  Jason cocks his head as if he’s not sure he heard me correctly. “You did what?! Jesus, Frank.”

  “I thought she’d be better off if she didn’t have to deal with me…” I trail off as I realize how ridiculous I sound. “I was still partially drunk and a whole lot hungover. I wasn’t thinking. I really fucked up.”

  “You realize that’s not an excuse, right? You can’t hide behind the alcohol because you’re the one who chose to get drunk. And yes, you really fucked up. You two were good together. And you know it, too. She was worth jeopardizing your job over, or you wouldn’t have done it.” He glares at me. “And the only excuse you have for something that stupid is that you weren’t thinking? Dude. I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

  “She really was worth jeopardizing my career over.” I smile, thinking about the way she makes me laugh. The way her eyes glint with happiness when we’re together. The way I feel when I’m with her, like everything in this world was designed to bring us together. “But I doubt she’ll have anything to do with me now.”

  Jason gives me a onceover. “In the state you’re in? Probably not. I mean, shit, man. I came here to offer you a job and I’m not even sure I want anything to do with you.”

  I almost don’t hear him over the drone of thoughts running through my head. All I can think about is finding Sarah.

  Apologizing.

  Explaining.

  Fixing.

  I barely have the capacity to listen, but his statement is so absurd, it makes it through.

  “Offer me a job? What are you talking about?” I run a hand along the back of my neck and lean against the wall.

  Jason nudges the broken pieces of a picture frame with his toe. “I mean, I want to start my own firm. McDougan & Kent does a lot right, but they do a lot wrong, too. I think the two of us can make something pretty damn impressive…or I did. Before this self-destructive, self-pitying side of you came floating back to the surface.”

  The idea is a good one. Jason is wickedly talented and when the two of us work together, miracles happen. This could be good. Like really, really good.

  “Start your own firm? Why haven’t you said anything about this until now?”

  “Because I knew how much you loved your job. What in the world could I offer you to make you want to quit a sure thing and take a chance on something that could backfire? When you got yourself fired, I thought, hey! Here’s my chance!” He gives me a look meant to cut through all the bullshit and get straight to the heart of the matter. “But I’m not about to take a chance on you until you get yourself cleaned up. You beat this shit once. Don’t be a douche and let it win now.”

  Jason sticks around long enough to watch me empty the last bottle of Jameson down the sink. I promise I’ll get my shit together and by the time he leaves, I’m feeling almost optimistic about the future.

  I grab my phone and type out a text to Sarah.

  Me: Hey. I’m sorry about what I said yesterday

  I erase the words. What kind of asshole tries to take back a statement like “I slept with someone while you were visiting your sick dad” via text. I try again.

  Me: I miss you

  I jam my thumb on the backspace button. What am I supposed to say right now? How do I make this better? Do I call her? What if she doesn’t answer?

  It was hard enough to try and process through the raging headache pounding against my temples, but the more I realize how much I messed things up with Sarah, the worse things get. Finally, after twenty minutes of trying out different ways to apologize and explain myself, I toss my phone onto the counter.

  Only I must have thrown it harder than I thought. It careens off the counter, already in more than one piece, clinks off the corner of the coffee table, and shatters on the floor.

  Sarah

  Saturday and Sunday pass in long stretches of inspired thought, tormented heartbreak, thoughts of the future, and zero messages from Frank. I consider reaching out time and time again. Hell, I’ve had messages typed into my phone only to delete them just before I hit send. Once, I actually get in my car with the intent of driving over to his apartment and getting into a giant fight.

  I want to know if he really did sleep with Bree. If he did, fine. I’ll move on. But if he didn’t, the way every single instinct I have keeps telling me, then I want to know why in the world he told me he did. I like him too much to just walk away. What we have, what he is to me, what I thought I was to him…it deserves a fight.

  But, I get out of the car without ever turning it on. Maybe I’m being ridiculous. Maybe Frank doesn’t want to fight for us. He was so quick to turn his back on me.

  And round and round I go, lost in a winding trail of what ifs.

  By the time Monday morning rolls around, I know one thing for sure. I owe Frank more than money. I owe him everything. I get up and get ready as if it were any other normal day, but instead of stopping at reception to put my things at my desk, I march right down the hall to Brian Kent’s office and push through the door much to the dismay of his very surprised administrative assistant.

  “Mr. Kent.” I stride up to his desk and glare down at him.

  “Ms. Carmichael. I wasn’t aware our meeting had been moved up.”

  His statement is news to me. I’m sure he planned to fire me today. I’m here to make his job that much easier. “Well, I wasn’t even aware we had a meeting at all. I need to talk to you…”

  Brian gestures toward the chair. “Please, have a seat and speak to me like a civilized adult.”

  The condescension in his tone forces me to square my shoulders. “I won’t be here that long. You should know that when I said I needed a week for a family emergency, I was telling the truth. Yes, I’ve been romantically involved with Frank Wilde, but no, I did not leave because of him. My father had a stroke and…well…you don’t need to know any more than that. You do need to know that whatever Bree Marshall told you about Frank is a lie.”

  Brian scowls at me. “I’ll be sure to make a note of that,” he says, without even bothering to pick up a pen or paper. “Is there anything else you’d like to say before I speak? Anyt
hing at all?”

  I know what he wants to say. He’s going to tell me I’m fired. And if I’m honest, I totally deserve it, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. His smug face, all wobbly and limp is just too much to deal with right now. “Yes,” I reply. “I do have one more thing to say. I quit.”

  The man doesn’t even have the decency to look surprised, but I don’t care. I whirl and stomp out of his office. There’s no way Frank will get his job back because of my little display, but at the very least, maybe I’ll save his dignity. People watch as I stride through the rows of desks. Some smile. Some roll their eyes. Some won’t even bother to look at me.

  As I pass reception on my way to the elevators, I hear muffled voices coming from further down the hall and find none other than Jason and the infamous Bree Marshall, obviously arguing.

  “I didn’t mean to get him fired,” she hisses.

  “What did you intend exactly?” Jason asks. “Did you really think he’d want anything to do with you after everything you’ve done?”

  “Yes! Okay! Yes! I thought I could get that stupid little receptionist out of the way and Frank would realize that I’m the only one around here good enough to be with him. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  How crazy is this woman? I always assumed she wanted Frank, didn’t get him, and was one of those people who would never forgive him for it. But now? It’s starting to sound like she’s in need of some serious help.

  Jason looks disgusted. “Honestly, no. What I want to hear is you, explaining to Brian Kent that you lied about everything and ruined a good man’s reputation.”

  “Well, that’ll never happen.” Bree rolls her eyes. “I’m not about to lose my job, too.”

  I clear my throat and both Bree and Jason turn my way. She takes one look at me and stomps off, while Jason’s face softens.

  “Didn’t think I’d see you around here again,” he says.

  “I wasn’t sure I’d bother showing up only to get fired, but figured the least I could do was tell Mr. Kent that Bree was lying about why I left. I don’t expect it’ll get Frank his job back, but, I don’t know. Maybe it’ll save his reputation?” I stare after Bree and cross my arms over my chest. Just seeing her, knowing that she was at Frank’s apartment, makes my stomach twist and jump with uncertainty.

  Fine. I slept with her. Is that what you want to hear?

  Frank’s words spiral through my head, zing through my veins, wrench through my heart.

  “He didn’t sleep with her.”

  Jason’s words catch me off guard. I chew on my lip while I stare into his eyes, looking for lies and truths, too confused to understand what I see.

  “Frank didn’t sleep with Bree. I know he said he did, and he’s an asshole for doing that to you. He’s caught in some stupid self-destructive pattern and thinks you’d be better off without him. He told you he slept with her so you’d hate him and move on with your life and he could just sink into the bottle and never surface again.”

  I don’t know what to say, which is good. If I had a response, it would never get around the lump in my throat. He thinks I’m better without him? In what universe does that make any kind of sense?

  “I don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse,” Jason continues. “But that’s the story as I heard it.”

  “When did you see him last?” I manage, wondering about all the texts I never sent, all the calls that never came. What does it all mean? What do I do next? Part of me misses the certainty of Old Sarah. The answer would have been simple. What do I do next? Leave. The answer was always leave. Now? It’s so much more complicated. I stay and I fight and maybe I get hurt, but at least I know I tried.

  Jason shoves his hands in his pockets, his suitcoat flaring over his wrists. “Saturday afternoon. I couldn’t get him to answer his phone, so I stopped by his apartment. It was a mess. He was a mess.”

  Despite the memory of Frank’s messy living room, of his disheveled hair and face, hope rushes through me.

  I knew Frank didn’t sleep with Bree.

  I knew it.

  Him saying he did is the same asshole move I used to make when I wanted to push someone away. Time and time again, I’d combust, say something awful, and then sit in indignant self-righteousness as I got exactly what I wanted—for everyone to leave me alone—all while pretending the world was out to get me.

  Jason stares down at the floor before clearing his throat and looking me in the eyes. “Anyway,” he says, “for what it’s worth, he swears he’s done with the drinking. I watched him pour everything down the drain. He promised this wasn’t a relapse, it was just a couple days’ worth of bad decisions.”

  I search for words around the buzzing in my brain. “That’s good. I mean, it’s really great.”

  Jason puts a hand on my arm. “You haven’t heard from him, have you?”

  I shake my head and suck in my lips, desperate not to cry.

  He sighs and shakes his head, looking disappointed in his friend. “Frank is head over heels for you.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me if I call bullshit on that. It doesn’t feel like I rank very high on his list right now.”

  “I wouldn’t give up on him yet. I understand you haven’t known him long enough to know for sure which of the two Franks you’ve met is the real him, but I have. This one? The douchebag who drinks and says shitty things? That’s not him.”

  “I know. I don’t know how I know, but I do. It’s just this quiet voice inside me, whispering. Telling me I need to talk to him because this isn’t over. And it’s so rare for that voice to ever say anything nice. I feel like I should listen.”

  Jason smiles and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Then listen. Drive right on over to his apartment, make him hear everything you have to say, and then kick him in the balls for being such a dickhead.”

  I laugh despite myself. “That sounds like a fabulous idea.”

  “Believe me. It is.” Jason hugs me and then pulls away, a wicked smile quirking the corners of his mouth. “Oh, and Sarah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “While you’re there, kick him once for me. Just for good measure.”

  Frank

  Without a phone, I have no way to get a hold of Sarah. No way to know where she is. No way to know if she’s still in the state. I drive by the parking lot of the extended stay where she used to have a room, but her car is nowhere to be found. I wait, in case she’s running errands, but after an hour passes and the same lady has pulled back her curtains to peer at me for the fifth time, I decide to stop being creepy and leave. At this point, the only chance I have is to catch Sarah at work on Monday.

  Outside of that, I know her family is in Brookside, Ohio.

  Her brother’s name is Colton.

  And they live on a farm.

  If Bree can find my home address with nothing more than my name, I can certainly get in contact with Sarah’s family. And through them, hopefully I’ll be able to talk to her. To apologize. To explain one of the dumbest decisions I’ve ever made and tell her how much I love her.

  Sunday disappears in a flurry of cleaning and reorganizing. I shower. I shave. I hang that damn shelf back on the wall. I get rid of any evidence of the past week and swear to myself that I will never, ever drink again. I thought if I could have one drink and say no to a second, then I would prove that I was in control of the alcohol, not the other way around.

  Turns out, one drink can always lead to two drinks and two drinks can lead to a shitstorm of trouble.

  Control is nothing more than a sweet illusion. A sweater with a loose string. One strong pull and the whole damn thing falls apart.

  From now on, when it comes to alcohol, the answer is always no.

  I’m up bright and early Monday morning. The plan? Be standing outside the entrance to McDougan & Kent when Sarah arrives. But, unfortunately, after a week of existing in a drunken haze in my apartment, I didn’t get the message that they were repaving the parking garage.

&n
bsp; My car? Towed.

  The building manager? Couldn’t care less.

  By the time I manage to talk the douchebag into letting me use his phone to call for an Uber, it’s past ten o’clock. When I make it to McDougan & Kent, it’s well past eleven. So much for meeting Sarah at the entrance.

  The last thing I want to do is look anyone in the office in the face and see the total lack of respect that’ll be waiting for me, but Sarah’s worth a little degradation. With my pride in tow, I push through the doors into the building and wait on the elevator.

  On the way up to the thirty-first floor, I practice everything I want to say.

  A hundred different ways to say I messed up.

  A thousand different ways to say I’m sorry.

  A million different ways to say I love you.

  The car slides to a stop and the doors rumble open with a ding. I stride down the hallway in my jeans and T-shirt, my chin held high as I pass people who stop in their tracks to stare.

  I’ve spent the entire morning imagining what might be waiting for me at reception when I finally get here. Maybe Sarah’s smiling. Maybe Sarah’s crying. Maybe she calls me an asshole and tells me to get lost. And I deserve it. My God, I deserve it. I’ll let her say everything she needs to say and if she tries to push me away, I won’t let her. What she and I have is worth fighting for.

  Except when I come around the corner, I find Nora sitting at Sarah’s desk. She looks up, recognizes me, and grimaces. “You’re the last person I expected to see here today.”

  “Where’s Sarah?” I ask, no time for pleasantries, no worries about drama or gossip.

  Nora folds her arms over her chest and purses her lips. “Sarah quit. Walked in here first thing this morning, pushed right into Mr. Kent’s office, and then walked out without a word to any of us. Would have been nice of her to say goodbye.”

  My heart sinks. Am I too late? Is she gone for good? I couldn’t blame her for leaving. Not after what I said. Not after what I did. “She didn’t say anything?”