Home is Where the Heart Is (Home #1)

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

CHEYNEE FILKOV

For Tass – A promise is a promise and after being there from the beginning it seems fitting you get my gratitude at the end.

And for Megan, Hannah, Amanda and Lauryn who dealt with me sending snippets at a time and kept me writing when all I wanted to do was give up.

I love you all – each and every word is for you xxx

Chapter 1
Isabelle
 

Isabelle exhaled a deep breath as she watched the sky threaten to swallow the sun whole. The breeze was cool against her bare arms as she sat on the old green bench and procrastinated packing up her room, which is what she had promised her mum she was doing.

She’d spent her whole life in this house and now they were packing up all their memories and leaving it all behind.

She had taken her first wobbling steps in their kitchen, first ridden a bike in the driveway, secretly tried her first sip of beer with her best friend Tate in the backyard, and even had her first kiss on the front porch. At sixteen years old with only one true friend who she had never gone a day without, it was needless to say Isabelle was a little pissed off about starting fresh … although forgetting her first kiss, followed by the humiliation of being dumped not long, after would be wonderful.

“Honey, what are you doing out here? It’s getting cold and you’re meant to be packing,” her mum said as she draped a coat around Isabelle’s shoulders and took a seat next to her.

“Weighing up the pros and cons of running away to join the circus,” Isabelle replied lightly.

Cleo Mason quirked a thin eyebrow at her daughter’s smart mouth.

“We asked them years ago and they refused to take you.”

Isabelle shrugged. “I probably didn’t have boobs then.”

Cleo chuckled and nudged Isabelle softly. “You know you could be sulking
and
packing.”

“And you could decide to listen to me for once and start
unpacking
so I don’t need to shift my whole life,” Isabelle countered.

Cleo sighed deeply. “You’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“No, I’m trying to be honest with you. Tate is here, I’m settled at school, I have formal coming up which I don’t want to do with a bunch of strangers, and you’re moving me when school has already started. I don’t understand why Dad can’t just go ahead and you can wait here with me until I finish this year.”

Cleo’s blue eyes flashed in frustrated annoyance as she got to her feet. “You’re sixteen years old and under our care, so that means you need to listen to what we tell you to do. You’re going to make new friends, you’re going to love living on the beach,
and
eventually you’re going to be thankful you’ve been given the opportunity to create another place to call home. We’re not going to fight about this anymore. Whether you like it or not we’re going to be moving in two weeks and we would really appreciate your help.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes, and wondered, not for the first time, why her mother always sounded like she was speaking verbatim from a parenting book.

“Fine, but don’t think for a second when you and Dad go senile that I won’t hesitate to put you in a home.”

With an affectionate smile and a kiss, her Mum left her alone with her thoughts and the rapidly fading sun.

Her phone buzzed, jerking her from her reverie.

“Hello?”

“Are you neck deep in packing or self-pity?”

Isabelle smiled immediately.

“Would you believe my last attempt at freedom just failed?” she returned.

“So, your brilliant plan of persuading your Mum with attitude didn’t work out, huh?” 
“It wasn’t exactly the best case scenario, that’s for sure.”

“I am shocked! I mean, the plan was flawless!”

“Shut up idiot, it was worth a shot anyway.”

“Yeah, you had to try.”

“You could always convince your family to move too?” she asked hopefully.

Tate barked out a laugh. “Yeah, that will go down real well, after Mum just got through the first trimester and is in full nesting mode.”

Smiling into the phone, Isabelle curled to the side and drew her knees to her chest, using the jacket her mum had draped over her like a blanket.

“You get to be a big brother though, that’s going to be pretty cool.”

“And you get to be the bad influence cousin,” he jibed.

“Bad influence? I’m delightful!” she protested. “In fact, I am so giving that I’m willing to let you come over and help me pack up my room.”

“By “help” do you mean you’ll be dictating, and just watching me do all the work?”

“Obviously.”

Tate chuckled. “So generous of you.”

“I know, right. See you in twenty minutes.”

Before he could protest Isabelle ended the call and pulled herself to her feet so she could drag herself back inside. It was clear she wasn’t going to get her way this time, so she may as well make the most of the situation and try and have a little fun as she boxed up all her memories.

*
“The struggle is real,” Isabelle moaned, leaning into Tate’s body as they walked into school the next morning. “Why the hell did we stay up so late? And what the hell did I sleep on? My neck is killing me!”

“Your neck hurts? My whole left side was numb this morning from you draping yourself over me like a shawl. I thought I was having a stroke!”

She rolled her eyes at his dramatic statement and ignored his exaggerated limp.

“I don’t want to go to class, can’t you go for me?”

His green eyes sparkled and his lips quirked to the side. “And what about my class?”

She shrugged. “Flirt with some girl and get the notes for it or something.”

His deep laugh echoed through the courtyard, drawing a few gazes their way. “Is this your plan for the new school? Seduce yourself an army of minions?”

She froze as his words hit her and she bit her lip nervously.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Tate, we both know I only really have you here. I’ve lived here my whole life and I have one friendship that isn’t superficial. I’m going to move to this new place completely alone and be stuck as the new weirdo.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself Belle. You’ll be the hot weirdo.”

She smacked his arm. “Tate, I’m being serious! I’m seriously freaking out about having to start fresh again.”

Turning her to face him he held her shoulders in her hands and forced her gaze his way.

“How long have we known each other?” he asked.

She smiled at him affectionately. “Forever.”

“Exactly. So I know you better than anyone which means I can tell you with absolute certainty that you are going to fit in without any issues. You’re smart, funny, pretty and always full of energy, and people are always attracted to that so you’ll be fine. Now come on, enough of this ridiculousness, we have some work we need to pretend to do.” 

Isabelle smiled brightly and allowed Tate to tow her away, feeling better already.

“I hear you’re leaving.”

At his voice, her whole body went rigid.

“Yes, she is,” Tate said coldly, trying forcefully to move her.

“Wait, I just want to talk to her.”

Talk? Now he wanted to talk to her? She didn’t know whether to fist pump in triumph or use her fist to punch his perfect freaking face in. Ex-boyfriends were the absolute worst.

The subject of her lust since they were twelve, Isabelle had somehow fluked her way into a relationship with Jason last year. They were together nearly six months and they were the greatest and worst months of her life. The worst not only because Jason didn’t exactly match up to the fantasy she had of him, but because Tate hated him with a burning passion which made juggling her time between the two hard.

“Keep moving, man,” Tate warned.

Jason grabbed her arm, pulling her away from Tate so that she tripped and landed right into his arms.

“Let go of her!” Tate snapped, outrage colouring his normally tan cheeks.

“I just need five minutes,” Jason begged, his grey eyes pleading.

It stopped her dead. Jason never begged.

Ignoring the weird feeling in her gut, Isabelle gave Tate a nod to indicate he was fine to leave her alone.
“Five minutes,” Tate said woodenly and then walked away from ear shot but still close enough to keep an eye on her.

“Stevens is getting on my nerves,” Jason growled as he glared over at Tate.

“Leave him alone.”

“Are you two together now? Stevens finally push out of the friend circle?” he demanded.

“You’re wasting your five minutes.”

Jason sighed deeply. “Sorry, I’m not doing this right. How long do you have left?”

“Just under two weeks.”

“So just finishing up this term?”

“Yep, anything else you need?”

Silence spread between them and Isabelle fought hard to keep her face blank and uninterested as warring feelings fought for pride of place inside her.

“I… I didn’t think I would be so… I mean I didn’t realise…”

“That you cared?” Isabelle snapped cutting him off.

“Well…yeah,” he replied almost sheepishly, running his hands through his blonde hair.

“I don’t know if you realise this Jason, but it’s too late for you to care,” she told him coldly.

“We still have two weeks, babe… come on.”

“Shut up,” she hissed. “You don’t get to call me that, not anymore.”

“Hey, I know I hurt you and I’m sorry…”

“Hurt me?” Isabelle said her voice rising. “Jason, you destroyed me. I wouldn’t have sex with you, so you discarded me like I was a toy you’d grown tired of.”

“That’s in the past; I don’t know why we can’t just move on from that. It was three months ago,” he said in exasperation, like
she
was the idiot for still being upset that he publically humiliated her by breaking up with her at a party, then having a threesome hours later with two of the girls in her dance class.

“Are you freaking kidding me? You don’t get to tell me when I can stop being mad,” she yelled. “You don’t get any say when it comes to me at all and the fact that I get to move away from you is the only bearable thing about uplifting my whole life!”

She had never lost her temper like this with him before, probably never even raised her voice until now.

Jason stepped back like she’d slapped him. “You don’t mean that. You’re just upset.”

“I think time’s up,” Tate said firmly, stepping up beside her.

Isabelle looked up at Tate gratefully as he watched Jason with unforgiving eyes.

“Goodbye Jason,” Isabelle managed to say through her anger.

“No wait!” he called desperately.

Tate stood in between the two of them with his arms crossed. “What now?”

“I’m…I’m throwing a party next weekend to celebrate the end of school, I want you to come.”

He eyed Tate bitterly.

“Both of you.”

“We’ll be busy,” Tate said firmly.

“It’s at my place, starts at nine on Saturday,” he looked past Tate to meet Isabelle’s eyes. “I want a chance to say a proper goodbye. Just think about it, OK?”

He didn’t wait around for Tate’s biting reply, just turned swiftly and headed over to his waiting group of friends.

Tate whipped around and pulled Isabelle into his arms.

“Let’s go to class,” he said tightly.

“You’re not going to ask if I’m OK?” she asked shakily after a few moments.

He eyed her incredulously. “What would be the point? I know you’re not.”

Isabelle nodded, trying to hide behind her hair as tears began to fall. She hated crying in public and especially hated feeling weak in front of Tate who was always so steady. The fact that she even felt the need to cry over that idiot after all he’d done was embarrassing enough.