Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Half Title
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chatper Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chater Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Authors notes
About the author
Acknowledgements
Home to You
Copyright © 2015 by Taylor Sullivan
Cover Design: Taylor Sullivan
Front cover photo: Anna Omelchenko
Editing: Laurie Boris
All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
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www.TaylorSullivanAuthor.com
WITH SHAKING HANDS, I SLAMMED the car door, and the sound echoed through the parking garage behind me—I cringed. It was almost midnight, and even though I was moving in the morning, I didn’t want pissed off neighbors tonight. I didn’t want them any night, but especially not now. Not when I already dreaded each step more than the scale after Christmas.
I took a deep breath, slung my messenger bag across my chest, and pushed myself forward. It was heavier than normal—heavy because of the burden it carried more so than its weight—but I couldn’t help myself from adjusting the strap over my shoulder anyway.
Kevin’s Dodge Charger sat in our shared spot at the front of the garage. Just like it was every other night that week, but this night was different—he was home, and all my sleepless torment, my lying awake to plan out each word would finally come to an end. But I hated not knowing what awaited me—hated it more than anything. I was the girl who loved spoilers and read the end of a novel before the beginning. Presented with the blue pill or the red pill—there was no question; I took the blue one every time. I liked my safe, normal life. I liked predictable. I didn’t want to know how far the rabbit hole went—yet here I was.
My flip-flops slapped against the hard pavement, and my fingers itched for a hand to hold—someone to tell me I could get through this night, someone to tell me I was strong. But I didn’t have anyone like that right now—I wasn’t even sure I’d believe them if I did.
When I finally reached the third floor, I hesitated at our apartment door. Kevin would be waiting for me, and that fact twisted my stomach in knots. But it was now or never, and on the count of three, I shoved the key in the lock and pushed.
The smell of his cologne hit me first. The expensive scent of citrus and musk now lingered with the unsettled dust of packed books. Darkness filled the room I’d left littered with boxes only hours before. The only light—a sliver cast through the open door; like a shining beacon to my late arrival.
“Were you just going to walk out on me like that? Without saying goodbye?” His voice cut through the darkness like cold steel, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
“If that was my plan, I’d be gone by now.” My voice shook, but I hoped he hadn’t noticed. I stepped over the threshold and flicked on the light.
He stood against a stack of boxes, his sandy blond hair a disheveled mess, but his clothes pristine and freshly pressed like they always were. He smiled at me—that charming smile that made everyone love him, but one I found terrifying in that moment.
His chin lifted as he took a swig of his beer. “Where have you been?”
“Nowhere.” Which was the truth. I’d been everywhere, and nowhere, all at the same time.
“Where, Katie?” He pushed himself upright, stalked toward me with long strides, and stopped when his polished black shoes touched the edge of my simple brown flip-flops. He stood only two inches above my five-foot-ten-inch frame, but there was an anger in his stance that was terrifying.
“I should be the one asking you that question.”
His eyes narrowed and he moved even closer. “What’s that supposed to mean?
“It’s over, Kevin. I know the truth.” Disgust spewed out of me—for him, for myself, for believing his lies for so long.
He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he retreated a step, and I grew a little stronger.
“Don’t give me that. Don’t stand there pretending to be innocent. I’m done.” I’d imagined myself screaming those words, but in that moment, they came out in a broken cry.
“Darling, what’s this about? Talk to me.” His eyes searched mine, his charming smile back in place.
I almost wished I could believe him. Things were easier when I didn’t know, when I lived in blissful oblivion. But I was an idiot, and as much as it hurt now, I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to that again.
Shoving my hand in my messenger bag, I pulled out a manila envelope that contained my proof and pushed it to his chest. It fell to the ground and dozens of photographs scattered across the hardwood floor. Recognition transformed his features as the faces of multiple women stared up at him. But not just women—he was there too. In fancy restaurants, hotels—in bed. “I can explain.”
“Screw you!”
He grabbed my arm, his fingers tearing into my flesh. “Who knows about this?”
His eyes were wild, his jaw constricted, and my heart stopped beating. He’d never hit me before, but for the briefest second I thought he might. I could’ve destroyed him with those photos; not only had he cheated on me, but he was playing with fire. The boss’s secretary, the copy editor who pretended to be my friend, and even the owner’s wife.
“No one,” I whispered. Because even though the thought had crossed my mind, even though he’d lied to me and made me look like an fool, I still couldn’t strip him of the career he loved more than life.
Relief washed his features, and his grip eased. “It didn’t mean anything, they don’t mean anything.”
He smiled again, the one I knew held anger under its surface, and bitter acid crept up my throat. I
looked to the floor, unable to meet his stare any longer, and yanked my arm out of his grasp. “Why, Kevin?”
He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Don’t do this.”
“I need to know.” Because being in the dark was torture. A poison that saturated my mind, telling me all the reasons I’d failed. All the reasons I wasn’t good enough. Maybe it was because I didn’t have blond hair like the rest of them. That my boobs were too small, or because I sucked at laundry. The truth would hurt, but nothing could be as harsh as my own insecurities.
“Katie, being with those women was good for us. It all made me realize what I have at home with you.” He dropped to one knee. “I love you, darling. Don’t let one silly mistake ruin that.”
His words hit like a punch to my stomach. Silly mistake? I closed my eyes and stepped back.
“I want to grow old with you. I want you to have my babies. They’ll all have big blue eyes just like you. Marry me.”
Tears blurred my vision as I looked down at the man who knelt in front of me. The man that up until five days ago I thought I could spend the rest of my life with.
“I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted, we’ll buy a house, get a dog—”
“Get up!” Sobs wracked my body and my voice shook. “It’s over, Kevin. Over!”
He stood slowly, hands held up in a silent surrender. “How can you say that? Have the last two years meant nothing to you?”
“Don’t you dare try and turn this around on me!” My hands clenched at my sides, my nails tearing into my palms.
“We’re a team, Katie. We’ll get through this. We look good together, honey—”
“Is that all I am to you? A pretty face?” My gut twisted; I couldn’t breathe.
He shook his head. “You know that’s not true.” He ran a hand through his thick hair, scanning the boxes that cluttered the room. “Don’t move out. I’ll go. We’ll work on things. I’ll win you back, just give me a chance.”
“I don’t trust you anymore.” My voice was raw, my hand settled on my throat. “I’ve already resigned. I have an interview in LA on Monday.”
“LA?” His blue eyes narrowed. “Are you going to Jake?” His words boomed like thunder, and his gaze locked on the picture that lay in the center of the coffee table.
He yanked the frame off the table and threw it against the wall with a crash. “Are you fucking him?”
“The only one fucking other people is you!” I rushed toward the picture and dropped down on shaking legs to pick up the broken frame that held some of my most cherished memories. “You need to leave.”
“You can’t kick me out of my own apartment.”
I stood, walked across the room, and opened the front door. “Get out.”
He laughed, one that was haunted and held no humor.
“Get out or I’ll call the police.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, but I knew he wouldn’t risk it. His reputation meant more to him than anything.
He turned slowly around the room—taking in the empty walls and stacked boxes. “This is what you really want?”
I nodded, though it wasn’t true. What I wanted was to go back to Monday morning, to not find that note in my inbox, to have none of this nightmare be true—but that wasn’t an option.
He came closer, stopping only inches from my face—so close I could see the blond stubble on his usually smooth cheek. “You want to know why, Katie?” He whispered in my ear. “Why I went to other women?” He trailed a hand down my bare arm and a shiver of disgust ran up my spine. “Because you’ve never satisfied me. You just lay there like a dead fish—what’d you expect?”
I closed my eyes as bile burned the back of my throat.
“No man will ever be satisfied with you.”
I swallowed, not allowing him to see how much his words tore me up inside. “The movers come in the morning. I’ll be gone by noon.”
“You’ll regret this.” He looked me up and down, and for a second I thought he may say more, but he remained silent as he walked out to the hall.
I didn’t hesitate before bolting the lock behind him. The invisible barrier offering me the limited closure I craved so much. I pressed my back against the door, my body so weak I practically melted into the wooden floor.
No man will ever be satisfied with you.
The broken frame was gripped in my left hand and I brushed fragments of shattered glass to the ground. All the faces I’d loved so much but hadn’t seen in years stared up at me.
The Gang.
The photo was taken twelve years earlier, the summer after Dad passed. My brother, Dave, and his friends Jake and Justin were all high school seniors, shirtless, and shamelessly flexed their biceps for the camera. I was there too—my friends Sarah and Megan by my side. We all stood in our practiced supermodel poses that were supposed to be slimming—and me…I still wore a training bra even at fourteen.
I’d only been five foot three then, soft around the middle, and a little girl in both body and soul. I was the shortest of the bunch and hated it, but now at five foot ten I wished I could knock off a couple of inches—or five.
It was a time of innocence, a time of discovery, and my whole world had been wrapped up in that handful of people. I thought we’d be together forever. But that was when I trusted people with my secrets—when I trusted them with my heart. When I was young, full of hopes and dreams, and so in love with the boy who lived next door.
Jake Johnson.
The first boy I ever loved—the man who still held a piece of my heart. I let out a breath and pressed my head back into the apartment wall as memories of a fourteen year old girl flooded me. My pink bedroom, the sweltering heat of summer, and the AC Mom would never run…
Twelve Years Earlier
I threw the covers from my sweaty legs and rolled in the direction of my closed door. Muffled voices seeped through powder pink walls and I wondered if that was what awoke me. I considered getting up to turn on the air conditioner, but Mom’s stressed face filled my mind and I couldn’t do it. No matter how uncomfortable I was, I didn’t want to make her worry any more about money than she already did.
It was nearly two in the morning, and even in the dark I could see that Sarah was no longer in my room. She was supposed to be my best friend, but lately she’d been spending more time with the boys than me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
I turned to my side, trying to find a comfortable spot, but it was too late. That familiar sadness had already begun to creep over my skin like a thick blanket. If I lay there much longer, it would suffocate me like it had the first few months after Dad passed.
Stumbling out of bed, I walked down the hallway running my hand along the textured paper walls. I heard more laughter and followed the voices until I stopped at the living room. Their backs were to me, and my heart instantly sank.
Sarah was on the ottoman holding an old guitar, and Jake was so close she practically sat in his lap. “Like this?” she asked, her hands positioned at the neck of the old Fender.
I thought about clearing my throat to tell them I was there, but I was too shocked.
He’s only teaching her how to play. That’s all this is.
“No, no.” He laughed. “Here, let me show you.” He wrapped his arm around her, then helped position her fingers on the frets. He was shirtless and his dark hair damp. They must have gone swimming.
“Is this right?” she asked.
“Mmmhmm.” He nuzzled her neck, humming his response against her skin.
My breath caught. A burning sensation tickled my nose. Sarah? Why Sarah?
She giggled, “Stop it, Katie likes you.”
He moved closer. “No, she doesn’t.”
Sarah giggled again. “She’ll be so mad if she finds out.”
“Katie’s like my sister. She won’t care.”
His words came on a whisper, but I heard them like they were meant just for me. All the air left my throat and my che
st heaved. I always knew Jake felt that way about me, but I’d never heard him say the words before.
Sarah leaned back and placed a hand on his strong jaw. “I guess she never has to find out.”
Twelve years later, and I could still feel the sting of finding them like that. Ironic, considering I was facing a whole new kind of betrayal, and the first person I turned to for comfort had been Jake.
I pressed my head against the door and rubbed slow circles at my temples with my thumbs. Sarah had snuck back into bed that night around three in the morning. She never did say anything to me about what happened, and I never asked.
The photo still rested in my lap—scratched and flawed from the broken glass, and I bushed broken pieces to the floor with my thumb. My muscles were so tense they felt bruised. Bruised and battered—what I imagined my heart to look like. I pushed myself from the ground, removed what remained of the broken frame, and deposited the picture to an open box.
Not bothering to change, I crawled into my unmade bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I was broken and weak—shattered—just like the glass covering my living room floor.
No man will ever be satisfied with you.
Kevin’s words played in my head again and again, and eventually I cried myself to sleep.
THE EARLY AFTERNOON SUN STREAMED through the windshield of the moving truck, and I pulled down the visor hoping to block out some of its harsh rays. The movers had come right on time that morning. Eight a.m. Exactly eight hours after Kevin walked out of my life forever, only three after I relaxed enough to fall asleep.
It was surreal really. Knowing that every earthly possession, everything that mattered to me, was now contained within a twenty-four-foot moving truck and the car that trailed behind it. In hindsight I should have paid the money and had someone drive the thing. I’d never done anything like this before, and all that could go wrong kept running through my mind faster than a freight train. A flat tire, a pothole, a gust of wind that would blow me over, taking my Ford Focus with it. But my rapidly deflating bank account told a different story. I needed to do this. I only had a few thousand dollars left to my name, and I needed that for an apartment, to set my feet on the ground—to start over.
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