Home to You by Taylor Sullivan Page B

again. “I hired a private investigator. A fucking PI—like one of those cheater shows we used to watch as kids.” I looked into his eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do.”  
    My body began to shake, and he pulled me into his arms. His grip so tight it almost crushed me.  
    “That fucking asshole.” His voice was low, mixed with a protection for me, and a hatred for Kevin.  
    “He said he loved me.” My voice cracked on the words, and I closed my eyes. “What kind of love is that?” It felt good to share my burdens, to know that others knew my secrets, but at the same time—I was ashamed. I pulled away and wiped at my face with the back of my hand. “Yeah, so…” I looked down to the laundry on the ground, desperate to lift the cloud that filled the room. “Maybe if I wasn’t so bad at laundry,” I joked.  
    He caught my hand and stilled me. “You did nothing wrong.”
    His voice was soft but held an edge. I closed my eyes, swallowed the bitter tears that threatened the back of my throat—but it was too late. I was fighting a losing battle.  
    My chin began to quiver, and he crushed me to his chest again. “Shit… Don’t cry. That asshole doesn’t deserve your tears.”  
    I nodded into his chest and accepted the comfort I’d been needing all week. The comfort I knew would be here when I came back. A knock sounded at the door, and I immediately pushed away.  
    John peered through the screen door, his brows furrowed, and he shook his head a little. “Should I come back later?”
    Jake turned to answer, and I picked up my pile of clothes, ran to the garage, and threw the laundry to the top of the machine. I heard Jake enter a couple minutes later, but I couldn’t face him. I’d made a fool out of myself, made things look so much worse than they really were. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “That looked really bad.”
    He ignored my words and came closer. “Are you okay?”  
    I nodded, using every bit of my self-control not to lose it again.  
    “I can tell him to go away. He’s just here to watch the game.”
    I shook my head, turned to face him, and forced myself to take a breath. “Don’t do that. I’m fine. Really. Go enjoy your game.”  
    “Katie…” His eyes were filled with sympathy, and I looked down at my hands. That was the last thing I wanted from him.  
    “Please?”  
    He nodded. “Okay. But I’m here if you want to talk.”
    “I know.”   
    I thought he might say more, but he didn’t. He dropped his hands to his sides and walked back into the house.  
    When I heard the click of the door, my body sagged, and I dropped to the garage floor. Jake knew. There was something so final about that. Something that made the whole thing so much more real. My lips began to quiver again, and I finally allowed myself to grieve. To mourn the loss of a life I’d started to believe in.  

THE NEXT MORNING, STANDING IN a terry cloth robe, I looked down at Kevin’s name glowing neon green across my phone. I had to leave for the interview in an hour. My hair was still damp, my face naked, and I had no clue what I was going to wear—I didn’t have time for more excuses, not that I wanted to talk to him even if I did. I swiped the screen, sending Kevin to voicemail, and pulled another top from my closet.  
    I should’ve decided on an outfit last night, but Jake and I ended up eating cold pizza and watching movies until midnight. I’d been worried things would’ve changed after I told him about Kevin’s infidelity. That he’d look at me in that same sympathetic way he’d done in the garage. But when I came inside, we both went on like I hadn’t just crumbled to pieces in his arms.  
    My phone buzzed with a new text, and I closed my eyes, knowing it was Kevin again. I looked down to the screen on the dresser and froze.
    KEVIN: Pick up the fucking phone!
    What the hell? Who did he think he was?
    ME: I’m sorry, you must have mistaken me for one of your WHORES.