Home to You

by Taylor Sullivan

  I grabbed my cell and hit John’s number. Please pick up. Please pick up.

  It rang three times before he answered. “There’s someone here,” I said, my voice a ragged whisper.

  “Katie? I can barely hear you. Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.” I shivered and I hugged my knees into my chest. My teeth chattering.

  “I’ll be right there!”

  The line went silent and I dialed nine-one-one.

  The woman’s voice came high pitched on the first ring. “Nine-one-one what’s your emergency?”

  I replayed the event in my mind, unable to form an answer.

  “Hello?”

  “ I…I just don’t know…”

  “Ma’am, are you hurt?”

  I scanned over my body. “I don’t think so. There was a man at the door… I…”

  “Is he still there?”

  “No, no… I think he’s gone.”

  My eyes were glued to the front door as the operator continued to ask me questions. I went to the back patio—to Jake’s room to check the locks, then gave her my address. She stayed on the line talking to me, reassuring me an officer was on his way. But her words did nothing to comfort me, and I began rocking back and forth on the couch as I watched the door.

  Another knock came too soon, and I froze.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” the operator asked, but I couldn’t answer—couldn’t move. Seconds passed, and the knock came more insistent. “Chinese! Hello? I need a signature.” There was a muffled exchange, followed by John calling through the door. “Katie, it’s me.”

  I stumbled to my feet, unlocked the door, and threw myself at John’s chest.

  He set the bag of food on the floor and enveloped me in strong arms. “What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  My body shook as I recounted the details. We waited for the cops which seemed to take hours, but in reality only took fifteen minutes.

  “I’m Officer Peterson, and this is Officer Gomez. Do you mind if we look around?”

  I shook my head, and Officer Peterson began inspecting the broken chain, while Gomez went to check the yard.

  John sat with me while I gave my statement. They rattled off questions, and I struggled to give clear answers. I thought he was Caucasian, but he wore glasses and a hood. The only other thing I saw was his hand. Big and strong, but covered in a black glove. I’d never experienced anything like this before. Never been in a fight, never even played any contact sports. The closest thing would’ve been wrestling with my brother or Jake. But they never wanted to hurt me, and when I was behind that door, I knew I was fighting for my life.

  “There’ve been some home invasions in the neighborhood, and we think you were their next victim. You’re very lucky, Ms. McGregor.”

  Their victim. More than one. I nodded, my mind consumed with fear. What would have happened had I not started chaining the door when Jake left? What would they have done had they gotten inside?

  Officer Gomez must have sensed my anxiety, because he leaned forward and spoke directly to me. “We’re taking this very seriously, Ms. McGregor. We have two cars patrolling the area, and that won’t stop until these men are caught.”

  John stayed with me that night. We watched TV, but I couldn’t focus. My eyes kept shifting to the door and the chain that was practically ripped from the wall. He eventually turned the channel to some old black-and-white cowboy movie he declared to be the best story ever told. The music was soft, the absence of color oddly comforting, and not ten minutes later, I fell asleep.

  When I opened my eyes again, John sat on the edge of the couch pulling on his boots. I shifted to sit and stared at the light streaming under the door and through the cracks of the shutters.

  John looked at me as he gathered his cell phone and keys off the coffee table. “Em will be here any minute. I’d stay, but I’m the only one holding down the fort while Jake’s away.”

  He looked tired. Had he slept at all? “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” I tried for a reassuring smile, but he didn’t look convinced.

  “Lock the door behind me, don’t open it until Em gets here. I’ve checked all the windows and doors—”

  “John. Go. I’ll be fine.”

  My phone chirped at the table, and I picked it up. “It’s Jake.”

  His brows furrowed. “He’s not going to be happy about this. I don’t envy you.”

  I took a deep breath. “I know.”

  “I’M NOT LEAVING YOU,” JOHN insisted, before the electric drill fired again.

  Em spent the whole day with me. She even came to the engagement shoot at Griffith Park. But when we got back to Jake’s, I told her to go home. That I’d be fine. That Jake would be home soon, and he’d take over as security guard. I needed to talk to him alone. I had the perfect opportunity to tell him about the break when he called that morning, but I didn’t take it. I knew once I told him, he’d flip out, and my questions about Grace would be put on the back burner. So yeah, there would be lots of talking tonight, and I didn’t want to have that kind of conversation with an audience.

  Em was completely understanding. She handed me a keychain of pepper spray and made me promise to call if I heard anything suspicious. John, on the other hand, wasn’t so easily swayed. He came by to install a new chain lock and security hardware on all the windows. It was obvious he wasn’t planning to leave me alone anytime soon.

  “I really just want some time to myself. It’s been a long twenty-four hours, and I need some rest.”

  He looked up, his eyes crinkling in the corners with amusement. “Sweetheart, I know you’re gorgeous, but I think I can control myself for one evening. I just want you to be safe, that’s all.”

  I rolled my eyes at the typical John innuendo, but I knew I’d scared him last night. I could see it on his face. “I will be safe. There are two cars patrolling the neighborhood tonight, and the officers said it wasn’t their MO—they’re not coming back.”

  “I don’t care what they said, Katie. I’m not leaving you alone when there’s some sick fuck out there attacking women!” The drill blared to life again, anchoring another screw into the wall.

  John was a protector, and he’d taken me under his wing. I was thankful for that, but I needed to be alone. “Jake’s coming home tonight,” I blurted out, “and I really need to talk to him...alone...” My words trailed off as my eyes shifted to the floor. I could feel him watching me even before I looked up.

  “What’s going on between you guys?” But I heard the silent question—and what about Grace?

  All I could do was shake my head. That was the problem. I had no idea.

  He grabbed his bag of hardware, and I followed after him as he moved to my bedroom to install the next lock. It wasn’t like I’d be alone long. Jake was due home in less than an hour, but if John was still here, he’d tell Jake about the break-in—our talk about Grace wouldn’t happen.

  “Shit, Katie. I don’t like it.” He drilled the next hole, then blew out a long breath. “Call me if you hear anything, chain the lock when I go. Don’t answer for anyone.”

  As I waited for Jake, anxiety wrapped around me and squeezed like a python to its prey. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the conversation ahead of me would be life changing. In the end, I would either have Jake in my life, or I wouldn’t.

  I had a dream that he’d walk in the door, his hair a mess from the long flight, looking tired and disheveled. He’d smile at me. That smile that lifted only half his mouth. The one that made butterflies migrate to all the private places inside me. He’d drop his bags, and I’d run into his open arms…and that was where my fantasy stopped. He’d been gone for six days, I’d run endless scenarios through my mind, but in the end of each make-believe conversation, I was filled with a sense of dread. Because what if he hadn’t broken up with Grace? Or what if he never intended to leave her at all?

  I’d promised myself that if that was the case, I’d leave. Get a hotel, find a room
to rent, do whatever I had to...but I wouldn’t stay. I couldn’t let myself be the other woman. As much as I didn’t like to admit it, I knew I wasn’t strong enough to resist the temptation of Jake. But another reason lingered in my subconscious. If Jake could do that to Grace, what would prevent him from doing the same to me? And if that was the reality, Jake wasn’t the person I thought I knew all my life.

  Determined to push the conversation from my mind, I decided to torture myself in a different kind of way. I stalked to my bedroom, opened the closet, and stared at the pile of laundry mounted high in the corner. I really hated laundry.

  As I threw the first dry load onto the couch, my phone chimed to life with a new text.

  JAKE: Missed my flight. Taking the red eye. Don’t wait up.

  ME: What happened?

  But there was no reply. A twinge of fear tickled the back of my neck. I’d sent everyone away, and now Jake wouldn’t be home for hours.

  I continued to wash and fold laundry, the pepper spray within reach as I watched infomercials about some new kind of shampoo and a workout that would give me a perfectly sculpted ass.

  By the time I finished the laundry, it was already past two in the morning. My eyes grew heavy, and I curled up on the edge of the couch—the pepper spray in hand—as I watched old reruns of I Love Lucy episodes. I wanted to stay awake, but exhaustion consumed me, and I eventually drifted off to sleep.

  When I opened my eyes again it was ten in the morning, and a blanket covered me on the couch. Jake’s luggage sat in the middle of the living room floor, and my heart squeezed knowing he was home. I climbed off the couch, wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, and walked down the hall to Jake’s room.

  The door was left open a crack, and I let myself in. He lay on his stomach in the center of the king-sized bed. His exposed back a beautiful contrast to the dark sheets thrown over his hips. All the shutters were closed, but the room was filled with the soft light of morning, giving his skin a velvety glow that took my breath away. He hugged a pillow to his chest, reminding me of a little boy, and I had to resist the urge to climb in next to him. To run my fingers across his muscles and feel his skin against mine. But it had been past two in the morning when I finally fell asleep, and he hadn’t been home yet. I knew he must’ve been exhausted, and I couldn’t bear the thought of waking him up just yet. Maybe I was procrastinating… Or maybe I didn’t want whatever was brewing between us to come to an end. Because until I knew for certain, I could hold on to the fantasy where Jake loved me, and everything was one big misunderstanding.

  Today was his thirtieth birthday, and although I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax until everything was out in the open, I didn’t want to start the day with a fight. I went back to my room, splashed the sleep from my still-tired eyes, brushed my teeth, and threw on cut offs and a T-shirt. As I was just about to pull away from the curb to go to the store, a patrol car drove past me. I needed to tell him—and I would. Soon.

  When I got home, he was still asleep, and I slipped into the kitchen to mix up the batter for crepes. It was a recipe from one of my favorite food bloggers, and I’d been saving it for a special occasion. I didn’t know if this was to be our first of many breakfasts together, or our last. But either way, I wanted to remember it.

  The crepes were paper thin with hints of caramelization around the edges. They smelled of browned butter, freshly baked pastries, and sweet vanilla. I piped a filling of lightly sweetened cream infused with lemon zest in the center, then finished the plate with a dusting of confectioners’ sugar and sun-ripened berries. It was a dish made in heaven, but my stomach was turned in knots.

  Jake stirred as I sat on the edge of the bed, the plate of crepes on the verge of snapping under my vise-like grip. His eyes cracked open, and a slow, sleepy smile transformed his face as he rolled to his back.

  “Morning.” His voice was deep with gravel and flirtation.

  My stomach squeezed with an awareness so strong I nearly lost my balance on the edge of the bed. “It’s not morning. It’s almost noon. What time did you get home?”

  “I don’t know. Four maybe?” His eyes shifted to the plate in my hands. “Is that for me?”

  My skin pricked as the scent of warm skin and pure male drifted toward me. It was more than I could take sitting so close to him like that. His naked chest practically begged to be touched, and my mind ran with naughty images of what he wore beneath the sheet. “Happy birthday.”

  He smiled, then sat up. The blankets strained under my bottom, effectively pulling me closer. He cut a forkful of crepe and shoveled it into his mouth. The groan that followed was almost my undoing, and I was thankful he closed his eyes so he couldn’t see my face. A hint of cream lingered at the corner of his mouth, and I had to fight the urge to lick it off.

  “This is amazing. Have you tried any yet?”

  I shook my head, suddenly parched.

  “Here.” He cut another piece and slipped it into my mouth.

  I was mesmerized as the taste of cream and berries exploded. I’d never been fed like that before. Let alone by a practically naked man, in an empty house, in the middle of a king-sized bed.

  His tongue darted out to catch the cream I’d wanted to lick, and he cut another bite.

  I couldn’t stay there like that. He did things to me. Things that were primal and urgent, and I simply didn’t trust myself. I stood, and thrust the plate toward him. “There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen when you’re ready,” I blurted, then turned around and left the room, not allowing him a chance to speak.

  As I fixed another plate in the kitchen, I heard Jake enter behind me.

  “Any more of that?” he asked.

  “Sure.” I turned around and locked eyes with the hard wall of his chest.

  He took the plate with one hand and lifted my chin with the other. His thumb trailed over my lower cheek as he smiled down at me. “Flour.”

  “What? Oh.” I began wiping at my face with both hands. Had it been there the whole time?

  “Don’t worry, I got it.” He winked, then grabbed a cup of coffee on his way to the table.

  I turned to the counter to fix myself another plate, my heart behaving like I just got back from running a five-K. “How was your trip?”

  “It was good. Hectic, but I’m glad I went…”

  He continued to talk, but all I could think about were the questions that hammered for release inside my head. My plan was to wait until after breakfast. To enjoy our last moments before everything fell apart. But I wasn’t sure I could. I was teetering between jumping him like a sex-crazed lunatic and having a nervous breakdown.

  With a plate full of crepes my stomach would barely allow, I sat down.

  His brows wrinkled with concern as he looked at me. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

  The questions were eating me alive, and I couldn’t take it any longer. “Jake…” I took a cleansing breath, then blew it out before I continued. “We need to talk.”

  He set his mug on the table, the words of doom floating between us, and leaned back in his chair. His brows came together, and he looked confused.

  The knock which came next surprised us both, and his eyes bored into mine, silently telling me not to move as he rose from his seat to answer it.

  My hands raked over my face when he disappeared. There was no going back now. In a few minutes, I would have answers. Answers I both wanted and didn’t want all at the same time.

  When he came back into the room his forehead was creased with concern. “There’s an officer here to see you.”

  I swallowed the bile that rose in the back of my throat, and brushed past him to the front door.

  Officer Peterson stood in the middle of the room and nodded to me as I entered. “Ms. McGregor.”

  I wrapped my arms around my middle, and Jake came to stand by my side. “Is everything okay?”

  The officer looked from me to Jake. “There was another attack last night. A few mil
es from here. We think we got them this time.”

  I could feel Jake’s eyes focused on me as I stared at Officer Peterson.

  “We’d like you to come down to the station to ID them in a line-up.”

  Jake turned to me, a scowl of concern replacing any shred of the smile he wore earlier. “Katie, what’s going on?”

  My eyes focused at nothing as I looked out the window on the way to the station. Jake hadn’t said a word since Officer Peterson told him about the attempted break-in, the women who were attacked, and the fact that I was almost a victim. He needed time. It was obvious the news upset him. I could practically see the adrenaline pumping through his veins. But more than that; he seemed hurt.

  When we got out of the car, he grabbed my hand as we crossed the parking lot, and sat with me as I filled out more paperwork. Eventually we were escorted to a small room where a detective sat in the corner and explained the identification process to me.

  The room was bare except for a couple of seats and a curtain I knew covered a one-way mirror. Jake’s arm wrapped around me as I stood waiting to face the man who tried to attack me two nights earlier.

  Eventually the detective opened the curtains, and eight men walked into the room on the other side of the glass. They stood in a single-file line, while I looked into their faces. The room was warm and stuffy, and it was almost impossible to breathe the thick, fear-laden air. I began to tremble as I scanned from one man to another. Their faces smug and terrifying—all strangers. Jake held me close, bending down to kiss the top of my head every few minutes. But this job was mine, and I continued to stare into the eyes of all the men. They were all big and strong, the right size, but I realized any one of them could’ve been my attacker. I turned to the detective, my voice shaking. “I...I just don’t know.”

  “Are you sure, Ms. McGregor?” he asked.

  “Yes. It was dark. I just don’t know.”

  The curtains closed and Officer Peterson entered the room. I started to cry. “I’m so sorry. I wanted it to be one of them, but it was just so dark.”