Coming Home (Only Time Will Tell #1) Read online

  “Oh, come on, Kyle,” she whines. “We had so much fun last time, I’ll even bring the handcuffs, again.”

  I can’t listen to this. Pushing the chair back with my feet, making a God awful squeal against the wooden floor. Looking at Nod I inform her, “I'm heading home. I'll see you Monday.”

  “You’re leaving? It's like only nine?” she questions, checking her watch and squinting like she doesn't actually believe that it’s almost midnight.

  I shake my head, giving her a quick hug and saying goodbye to Ryan before I head for the door. When I'm outside, the cold air that I desperately want isn't there. There’s just a humid blanket.

  I crack my neck and head to the curb, ready to hail a cab.

  “Cat!”

  I look round at the entrance of The Chesterfield—the name of the hotel—and see Kyle heading my way. Looks like the trash is where it should be. “What?” I say exasperated and drained, my back and shoulders slumping and my bag dropping from the crook of my elbow and into my hand.

  He rakes his hand through his messy hair, making the odd piece stick up in ridiculous directions. “You’re going? Alone?”

  I search around me, just to make sure that I don't have a few extra people with me who decided to tag along. “Looks like it, why?”

  He grabs hold of my elbow and starts to drag me towards the hotel again. “What do you think you’re doing?” I demand, uselessly trying to get his hand off of me.

  “I'll give you a ride, you’re not leaving here alone. Anything could happen.”

  My heels try to anchor against the sidewalk, but that just causes me to stumble. “Oh, and me getting a ride off someone who I met a few hours ago is a hell of a lot safer than getting a cab?” Hoping that it will make him snap into saying something, just to acknowledge me a little bit.

  He stops and turns to look at me searching my face, and then my eyes. My breath catching in my throat. Those eyes always made me a puddle of gooey mush—those teamed up with that smile of his had me doing stupid things whenever he thought them up. Why is he still effecting me after all these years?

  “If I was to do something, you could quite easily tell my Uncle. You really think I want to piss him off?” he whispers. Bang goes my plan.

  “I guess not.” I whisper back, “But you can let go of me. I'll come quietly.” I say sarcastically, which causes his mouth to turn into a smirk.

  Reluctantly, he lets me go and I follow him through the hotel and out into the parking lot. Sitting there is a shiny black car with an older looking driver. Kyle opens the door and ushers me in. The first thing I do is scoot to the opposite end.

  When the door is slammed shut, we drive out and head in the direction of my apartment. To say he hated all this, he's doing a fine job at living it.

  As soon as I'm out of this car, I'm going to try and keep out of his way, try and carry on with my life like I wanted it, and that didn't include him. I don't care if it means I have to hide out in my apartment for months at a time. I need to get him out of my head, out of my line of vision and I don't care what stupid measures I will have to do to get that.

  All I know is Kyle Cooper and I need to keep our distance so we can both carry on with our lives. We can go back to living like we have done for the last few years.

  When the car pulls up outside the apartment block, I thank the driver and open the door, taking my time just in case he decides to say something, but he doesn’t. I carelessly throw a thank you back at Kyle before I slam the door shut.

  Alone time sounds so good right now.

  I'm in my pajamas, staring out my bedroom window, looking out at the streets below—people watching: they’re all going about their daily lives, daily routines and they have no idea I'm up here watching them. Not in a creepy way, just watching.

  I pull the hair band from around my ponytail and let it fall free. Tipping my head forward, I run my fingers through my hair and attempt to put a bit of life and volume back in to it. When I straighten myself back up, I look down and find every piece of hair curled perfectly into spirals. I'm looking at it, confused, when something out the window catches my eye. I look out and the outside world isn't there anymore. In fact, I'm staring into my parents’ living room, the house I've spent the last eight years in.

  I can't hear anything that's being said, but it looks like they’re distressed. My parents are shouting at each other, arms are flying around everywhere.

  I start banging on the window trying to get their attention, but they can't hear me. I continue to bang my fist against the glass and try to shout, but nothing comes out. Instead, I begin to choke, as water fills my mouth!

  I'm submerged in water and the whole room is floating around me: the bed, the dresser, the nightstand—everything. The air I had in my lungs has now left me and I'm gasping for air. I try and swim to the surface, but no matter how hard I swim, I don't move. I need air... I need to breathe!

  After trying and not succeeding at getting to the surface, I make one final effort to get my parents’ attention. I swim back to the window and my parents are still there, still having their heated conversation. I begin banging on the window, the palm of my hand slamming so hard on the glass that I'm scared my bones will shatter into a trillion pieces, not that I'd feel it, because it's starting to feel numb. But I don't stop banging....

  I wake up sitting bolt-upright in bed. My breathing is erratic, I'm sweaty and disorientated.

  My room is exactly how it should be, nothing is out of place and the view out my window is… normal. Was it a dream? It was a dream, I reassure myself.

  I collapse back on the bed, clutching my chest over my heart and subconsciously try and calm down. Dreaming that you’re dying is not something that I appreciate.

  There's a bang on the apartment door that makes me jump out my skin and starts my heart rate soaring again. What could Nod need this early in the morning? Have they had a fight?

  Still shaken from my nightmare, I gingerly start to get out of bed just as another bang hits the door and makes me jump again. I actually start getting scared. She could be hurt for all I know, but then why come to me when she has Ryan at home?

  I make my way through the lounge, shouting, “I'm coming!” and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I look a mess and she knows this is what I'll look like this early on a Saturday morning after a few drinks. So she had better be prepared for the sight.

  Quickly yanking the door open I start to shout, “Seriously woman, can you not knock at a...” trailing off as I realize it isn’t Nadine who storms past me and heads into my apartment.

  I watch as Kyle walks into the kitchen as I close the door and follow him, confused and well… confused. I watch him from the edge of the kitchen as he starts looking through my kitchen cupboards, eventually finding what he’s searching for and placing a plate on the kitchen island.

  I walk around and take a seat, still watching and trying to figure out if I'm dreaming still. “Make yourself at home,” I say sarcastically.

  He places a bagel on the plate and slides it in front of me before placing a to-go coffee cup next to it. “Thanks. I brought you breakfast.”

  No shit, Sherlock. “Breakfast? Why? More to the point, what the hell do you want?”

  “Nothing,” he says as he tosses the packaging in the trash. “I was just passing by and thought you might want something to eat. You sure drank a lot last night.”

  I rub my forehead, my alcohol induced headache slowly creeping up on me the more I wake up. “Seriously?”

  “Sure, why not?” he shrugs, then comes around the island and takes a seat next to me.

  I take a couple of sips of my latte and take a bite of my salmon and cream cheese bagel—my favorite—while trying to figure out the huge puzzle that's exploded in my head.

  I never told him what apartment number I lived in. Come to think of it, I never told him where I lived, period. He never asked me last night either, so how did he manage to whisper it to the driver before he got in the
car?

  “How did you find out where I lived?” I ask, confusion etched across my face as I turn to look at him as he casually sips on his own coffee.

  He smirks around the cup as he holds it to his lips. “I have my sources.”

  “Sources? Nadine? Did she tell you? Did she give you my address?”

  “No, it wasn't Nadine.”

  I think long and hard, trying to figure out how else he could have gotten that information while I continue to eat and finish my bagel. “Mr. Johnson?”

  “Nope,” he says, his lips making a popping sound as he says it. “But you’re getting close.”

  My brain continues to work overtime, which is a lot of hard work considering the hangover that’s slowly trying to take hold. “How? Just tell me!”

  “Your work file,” he states flatly.

  He went through my records! “Why the hell would you do that? Can't you ask like a normal human being?” I shout at him.

  “Would you have told me?” he calmly asks me, my shouting not affecting him at all.

  I slam the coffee cup down. “No!”

  “That's why, then.”

  I stare at him open-mouthed. He can't see how wrong this is, not even in the tiniest element.

  I pick up my empty plate and get up, walking around into the kitchen and tossing it in the sink, causing it to clatter loudly and bust into two. The noise rings like a fire alarm at close range in my head. I'm never drinking—again! I place my hands on my hips and take a couple of deep breaths, waiting for the pain and irritation to ease. When it doesn't, I reach into one of the cupboards and pull the medicine box from the top shelf, and grab the Advil to take. When I've swallowed them, I turn and look back at Kyle, who is looking at my legs. Damn shorts. “Excuse me. My face is up here,” I say directing him with my finger which he follows with a slight smile.

  “Sorry.”

  Leaning back against the counter, I cross my arms across my stomach, staring at him and trying to figure this out. Why the hell is he here? My plan to avoid him is swan diving out the window right now.

  “Kyle, what do you want? You’re not telling me that you searched my address out and brought me breakfast just for the fun of it.”

  He starts spinning the cup like he did the beer bottle last night, staring at it intently as if it will give him the answers. “Seriously, I was out running, was close by and thought you might need it.”

  “And you didn't think I might need some sleep, too?” I ask after checking the clock on my iPod docking station to see it's only eight-fifteen.

  “I didn't really think about the time,” he mumbles.

  “Are you done?” I ask, pointing to the coffee cup. He nods and hands it over, my fingers brushing his slightly but causing an electric bolt straight up my arm. My hands start to shake as I grab my cup and throw them both in the trash.

  This is starting to feel a bit awkward. I have no idea what to say to him now. I don't really know him anymore.

  Taking my seat beside him, I think of something that’s common ground. “How do you know Ryan?”

  Kyle releases a huge breath that makes his cheeks puff out. “Through Nadine, he was her plus one at an event my Uncle threw and we both got talking. He's a good guy, we have a lot in common.”

  “That's nice. How did he know where she'd be last night? It was really sweet that he surprised her.”

  “Me,” he says as he splays his hands on the island, pushing them forward and stretching them out. “Ryan had text me earlier in the day, asking me to find out what she had planned for the night. That’s why I came up to, ‘see my Uncle,’ then he asked me to tag along because he didn't think he could handle you two ‘drunken idiots’…His words not mine.”

  “I'm sure your Uncle would love to know that you had no interest in seeing him,” I laugh as I watch him sit back up straight.

  Okay, I've realized that I've been unable to take my eyes off of him. It's been too long, and I can’t help hating myself for doing it, either.

  “You okay?” he asks, snapping me out of it when I realize I've been caught out.

  I nod my head and give him a tight lipped smile, “Mmm hmm.”

  “You seem spaced out. You sure?”

  “Yeah I'm good. Anyway, thanks for breakfast, but I have things to do today.”

  He frowns at me then shakes his head like he can't believe that I'm actually trying to get rid of him. He's probably not used to a woman doing this, not if they’re all competing for his attention. I smile again, trying to act normal. “Can you make sure the door is locked, don't want every waif and stray coming in.” I say heading towards the bedroom.

  As I walk past him, I hear the creak of the stool so I know he's gotten up, but I assume he's leaving. I was not expecting him to grab me by the elbow—again.

  “Really? You’re just going to carry on with this?” he almost shouts.

  I look at his hand then at his face confused, and really kind of speechless. “Getting dressed?” I stutter.

  “No,” he grits out through his teeth. “This,” as he’s waves his free hand between the both of us.

  I try and play dumb, content with carrying on like we have. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Kyle practically grimaces when he says, “You sounded so British when you said that, makes me feel like I don't know you.”

  My heart is now beating ten times faster than it was this morning. I can feel the blood pumping through my head. “What? Do you want me to act like we used to? You’re the one who’s met me, ‘briefly.’ You’re the one who can’t even acknowledge who I am. I mean nothing to you, so why would I jump back in to your arms?”

  “Bullshit!” He shouts, releasing my arm and running his hands through his sweaty, messy hair. “That's complete bullshit C.J., and you know it.”

  Tears start to prick at my eyes; it’s like reigning in fireballs. “Explain to me, how is that bullshit? You could have said something to me yesterday or last night. I wasn’t expecting you to jump for joy, but you could have at least acted like I wasn’t a stranger.”

  “Me?” He shouts. “You could have done the same! You could have done all that too, but you didn’t. As far I can see, I mean and meant nothing to you. That fucking hurts, Cat!”

  I slap my hand against my mouth as he finishes. I can’t believe he’d even think that. No, I didn’t like that he cut me out and abandoned me, but he has never meant nothing to me. “Now who’s talking bullshit?” I ask stepping up to him and pushing my hands into his chest giving him one, huge, shove. “You meant everything to me! Besides, when did you want me to bring it up? When you have Josie screeching at you, or Mandy whining at you? And I know I got her name wrong, but I don’t give a shit! You cut me out of your life and forgot me, Kyle. You said we’d never leave each other and then you erased me out of your life!”

  “Me? That was you. The last I heard was you were sick and then nothing. Every email I sent bounced back. I sent you letters and got nothing again. So, don’t stand there and tell me that I cut you out.”

  I remember that day like it was yesterday, like many other days since then. I thought at the time that I was sick.

  I was pregnant. Little did I know as I sent that email that I was experiencing morning sickness. A couple of days after that, I sent an email to him and told him after I’d done a test and the email bounced back. I tried plenty more after that, that day and in the few days after, hoping it was a glitch. When I couldn’t get a single one to send, I tried calling and left messages on the machine and eventually decided to send him a letter. I’d hoped that he’d get back in touch, but he never did.

  “Kyle…” I start, my tone softening and my voice quivering as realization hits me. “I didn’t cut you out. I tried, I honestly did and I never got your letters. I did the same, didn’t you get mine?”

  “No. And stop fucking calling me Kyle!”

  He's right, of course, we never did call each other Catalina James and Kyle Cooper.
We were always C.J. and K.C. Those two spoken letters always turning me into a melting mess.

  “Cat, I promise you that I never gave up on you or cut you out. I loved you. I sent dozens of letters a month just to try and get you to talk to me, but nothing. Even when my Mom tried to convince me to give up, I couldn’t.”

  Well, she would do that. “She hated me Kyle, she’s bound to try and make you give up on me.” I spit.

  “She. Did. Not. If anything, she was just sick of mailing all the letters.”

  The penny drops in slow motion. I can’t imagine her ever mailing the letters to me, she’d do anything to stop me and him happening. Even though there’s an ocean between us, it’s not enough. If we never got each others letters, messages or emails… he never knew.

  My heart starts to break for him. Looking at him as he’s standing there completely clueless to what’s happened and yet, I can’t bring myself to tell him, not yet anyway. It isn’t something you just drop out in a conversation.

  “Kyle? Do you hate me?”

  He shakes his head at me, before digging around in a back pocket of his shorts and pulling out his wallet. I look on confused at him until he takes something out and shoves it in my hand. Looking at it I want to cry and smile all at once. It’s a picture of us sitting in the school field. We look so young and happy. We’re both carrying the biggest smiles on the planet. I’m sat between his legs wearing his hoodie and aviators. He has my hands in his as he crossed our arms over my stomach. I didn’t want the picture taken to start with and refused to smile so he started placing kisses over my cheek and neck, everywhere he could reach, knowing I’d give up and smile. I’m glad he did because I loved this picture. I gave mine up, but I’m surprised he still has it, never mind carries it with him.

  “No, C.J. I don’t hate you. As stupid as it sounds, whenever I’m pissed off and regardless of how things ended with us, you’re still a piece of sunshine to me. I can’t help taking that picture out daily and looking at it just to see your perfect smile.”