“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.
She was moving with her boyfriend, Paul, who was already there waiting for her. I knew she needed him, that she was grieving too, but I couldn’t help feeling like she was choosing him over me. Over the memories of her own son—the memories of my father.
Jake became my rock. The only thing I had left in the world. We spent every night together, every weekend, and when the nightmares started, he began sleeping in my bed...
My heart slammed in my chest and I couldn’t breathe. The room was thick and foggy, like walking through a funhouse filled with a cloud of dry ice. Off in the distance was a dark hall, but I couldn’t see its end. I grew frightened and nervous. Why was I here? Why was I alone?
Then up ahead, surrounded by puffs of white smoke, was Jake. His back was to me as he walked down the hall.
Come back, I wanted to yell, but panic squeezed my throat, and I couldn’t make a sound. I began to run, chase after him, and my heartbeat came faster and faster.
But it wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t good enough…I couldn’t catch him.
Jake! Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me!
“Shh.” Jake’s deep voice filled my ear, and he pulled me to his solid chest. “I’m here. Shh.”
I opened my eyes, thankful it was only another nightmare, and pressed my hot cheek to his bare skin.
“It was just a dream.” He ran a hand d
own my back. “Shh…”
His blue eyes locked with mine, and the backs of his fingers caressed the side of my face. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded, his calloused thumb brushing away a single tear.
His voice calmed me. The soft light of dawn allowing me to see how much he cared about me. My dreams affected him more than they did me.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, knowing this wasn’t the first time I’d woken him this way.
“Don’t be sorry.” His voice was deep and groggy and he began to smooth my hair away from my face.
I could smell the familiar scent of his skin and my heart began to pound again.
“I haven’t had one in a while.” I looked up at him. His eyes were closed, and I thought he might want to go back to sleep.
“Yeah.”
My eyes shifted to the dimple of his chin, then slowly up to his full lips. He hadn’t shaved since the morning before and already had a scruff of beard. I ached to be able to run my hand along his jaw. To touch him the way I’d always wanted to.
When I looked up again, his eyes were open, and he was watching me. My chest tightened with embarrassment, and I tried to pull away, but his hand caught me behind the neck, holding me firm.
My breath grew heavy under his gaze, and his hooded eyes moved to my lips. I was frozen, unsure of what was happening, and then his mouth came down to mine. Softly at first, like I could blow him away with an exhale, but then the kiss became firmer, sweeter, and he sucked softly on my bottom lip until I whimpered.
When his velvety tongue slipped into my mouth, he groaned, sending a pulse of need straight to the pit of my stomach. My hands trailed down his back, and his muscles flexed under my touch. I couldn’t think. My whole body was alive from his kiss, and all I wanted was more.
He rolled me to my back, his body heavy on mine, and looked deep into my eyes. For a second I thought he was going to pull away, but then he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, my nose, and found my mouth again.
A soft moan escaped me, a low, primal sound I’d never made before. I arched against him, my body more alive with each touch, his erection pressing into my hip.
My insides turned to liquid, and I wanted to touch him. I wanted to give him an ounce of the pleasure his kiss gave me. With trembling fingers, I found the strings of his sweatpants, but the next thing I knew, he rolled away from me and sat on the far edge of the bed.
“Katie, I can’t.”
His words came on a breathy pant, but I felt them like a hard slap.
Embarrassment and pain surged through me, and I moved to the end of the mattress. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say.
“No, damnit.” He reached out to touch me, but I rolled my shoulder to shrug him off.
“Jake, it’s okay.” I took a deep breath, trying to force down the hurt, but bile crept up my throat. “I need to get ready. I have work this morning.”
As if on cue, the alarm beeped to life on my nightstand, and I reached out to silence it. The tension was palpable, and I didn’t waste a minute before pushing myself to stand and running to the bathroom.
“Katie!” He called out, but I didn’t answer. I closed the door behind me and turned on the shower so he wouldn’t hear me cry. When I returned twenty minutes later, my emotions locked away in the safe place I usually didn’t hide from Jake—he was gone.
As I pulled off the freeway, I took a deep breath and tried to process all that had happened. Everything changed after our kiss. It was in that moment, alone in my bedroom, I accepted the fact that nothing would ever come of us. That no matter what I did, he’d always think of me as someone to take care of, like the little sister he had to protect. Every contact became painful, and nothing remained of the playful banter we’d always shared. He never came to my bed again. Didn’t come into my room without knocking—didn’t seek me out at all. I was depressed, alone, and knew it was finally time to move on.
After graduation, I got the first job I applied for. A position as a photojournalist at a small paper in San Diego. Within a week, I’d packed my bags and had my car loaded. I was ready for a new start. Finally ready to put that needed distance between us so I could get over him…
Jake placed the last of my boxes into the back of my car, then shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
The tension was so thick I almost couldn’t breathe. “Yeah. It’s a great opportunity.”
His lips lifted in a smile, but his eyes were hard. Just like the wall that ran a thousand miles between us. He stepped forward and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The thing he’d done a million different times, but a touch I hadn’t felt in weeks. “There are jobs here too, you know.”
My throat burned, my heart clenched, and fear bubbled inside me. Could I really do this? Move away from the last person who really knew me? The man who owned my heart? “Yeah, well. There’s nothing here for me anymore.”
I wanted him to say it wasn’t true, that he was still there. I wanted him to be angry, or hurt like I was. I wanted him to have any other response than what he did.
His jaw flexed, and he opened the door to my car. “I’m happy for you, Kit Kat. Call me if you need anything.”
I promptly got inside without giving him a second glance. It was easier that way. Easier not knowing if he was sad to see me go. Easier not knowing if he watched me as I drove away.
I cried the whole drive to San Diego, and continued every night for the first month I was there. He finally called to check on me a few months later, but I knew he was only doing what he thought he should. His brotherly duty. Just like he’d been doing every day since.
As I turned the moving truck down Jake’s street, my hands burned from my vise-like grip on the steering wheel. I pulled to a stop on the opposite side of the road and watched him. He was arranging boxes around in his garage, completely unaware of my presence.
I won’t fall for you this time, Jake Johnson. This time I’ll know better.
AS SOON AS I CUT the engine, the whole cab silenced, and some of the tension melted from my shoulders. Jake still hadn’t noticed me, and for the first time in the twenty years, I was thankful for his oblivion. It was ironic really. I used to ache for him to notice me, and now I sat there needing more time before he did.
He’d called me out of the blue six months ago, telling me about his new house. Actually, he’d called a lot over the years. Every birthday, Christmas, and even the anniversary of Dave’s accident. Though he never said it was the reason.
When he invited me for a visit, I’d been so nervous. I began pacing back and forth and rattling off all the reasons I couldn’t go. That I was too busy, that I couldn’t take the time off work, or even leave Kevin that long. But now as the butterflies swarmed an angry flurry inside me, I realized it was more than that. I’d stayed away on purpose. I stayed away too long.
He was still in the garage, and I could just make out the flex and shift of his muscles as he stacked one box on top of the other. He wore a pair of old jeans that were frayed at the cuffs, and a plain white T-shirt spread over his broad shoulders. I’d secretly hoped he’d changed a little bit. Maybe put on a few pounds, developed a bald spot, or even lost a few teeth. But even from ten yards away I could tell my wish hadn’t come true. He was beautiful. Well, in that very masculine and rugged sort of way. His dark, wavy hair was longer now. Curled at his nape the way it always had been when we were kids. People thought we were related back then. Not only because we were always together, but I guess we had similar features. We were both tall, had dark hair and blue eyes. Other than that, I just didn’t see it. He was gorgeous, and I was just me.
The sound of the Dodger game carried across the warm breeze, and I realized that was why he was so blind. The world could be ending, but if Jake was listening to a ball game, he wouldn’t notice. Some things never changed I guessed. I could still get lost watching him, and his blood still ran Dodger blue.
After f
ive minutes, and a few cleansing breaths, I decided it was time to stop procrastinating and pushed the door open. The strap of my tank top sagged to my shoulder, and I brushed it back up before hopping to the asphalt. I closed my eyes, cursed my racing heartbeat, then took a deep breath and crossed the street to Jake.
“Hey, stranger,” I called out. My voice sounding strained and hoarse even to my own ears.
He looked up, seeming not to notice, and his handsome face transformed into a huge smile. He walked over, meeting me halfway, and lifted me off my feet in a firm hug. “Hey, beautiful.”
I gripped him tighter. Not realizing how much I needed this. It had been so long since he’d lifted me like that. So long since I’d been held by a man who actually made me feel small. My heart leapt to my throat, and he lowered me to the ground.
He held me at arm’s length and his smile faded. His rough fingers brushed across my left cheek causing a stir low in my belly. “You look like shit, Katie.”
“Thanks.” I laughed then swallowed. “What happened to beautiful?”
He let out a breath. “What did he do to you?” His voice was soft, but I heard the protection under its surface. The protection I both loved and hated at the same time.
My throat thickened, and I turned out of his arms toward the house. “Aren’t you going to show me around?” I needed time. How could I tell him about another man who didn’t think I was enough?
“Same old Katie, always avoiding the question.”
My stomach clenched, but when I turned to face him, he was smiling again.
He pulled on one of my braids—the way he always did when we were kids—and started walking toward the house. “I’ll let you off the hook this time. Follow me.”
His driveway was void of cars, and I did a quick scan down the street looking for his old Mustang. All I came up with was a black truck with a JM construction logo on it. Johnson McGregor—the company he’d started with my brother, our names forever linked even after we grew apart.
Home to You Page 3
