It was my job to know. To take care of him. Not just physically but emotionally. Taking the phone, I set it aside and then moved around to lower onto the closed toilet seat. I tugged his hand, and he came forward, straddling my thighs and surrendering his weight.
“If this toilet falls through the floor, you’re explaining it to the fam.”
“Ivy would just use it as an excuse to remodel the entire house.”
Drew groaned. “She just did that last year.”
“If we aren’t ready, we aren’t ready,” I said, bringing it back before he tried to avoid the conversation more.
“He’s ready.” Drew’s baby blues met mine, and the love he had for our son was right there on the surface. “God, T. He’s a good driver. Gonna be better than me. I can feel it.”
“Of course he is.” I agreed, rubbing my palm up his spine. “Because you taught him.”
Drew shook his head just once. “Some skills can’t be taught. He’s a natural. You can see how much he loves it.”
“If we aren’t ready. We aren’t ready,” I repeated.
“We.” He scoffed. “You mean me.”
I gripped his waist, emphasizing my words. “I meanus. Because if you aren’t ready for Travis to have his own car, then I’m not either. We’re a team.”
“Aren’t you scared?” he whispered.
My heart tumbled a little, as it always did when Drew showed his vulnerable side. It was a side I saw a lot more of after he’d nearly died. That accident changed us as a couple. The weakness it forced on us only made us stronger. And even though it had been many years, it didn’t matter. Every time Drew was more openly dependent on me, more willing to show me that secret place he kept tucked behind his heart, something in me shattered and then quickly rebuilt so I could be stronger for him.
“Of course I am, baby,” I murmured. Handing Trav the keys to his own car felt like a big deal. Not just in the regular sense of watching him drive off to school or knowing it was one step closer to him being an adult.
There was also a sense of worry because Trav could be impulsive and was a certified adrenaline junkie just like his father. At times, he had an explosive temper and carried a lot of deeply rooted anger. It was one of the reasons we encouraged him to play football because it was a good outlet. But football wasn’t his passion. Cars were. And even though we basically lived and breathed fast cars, it was scary to hand our child a set of keys, especially after what we’d been through with Drew.
“But you think he’s ready?”
“As ready as he can be,” I replied. “You’ve made sure of it.”
“What if it’s not enough?” He worried.
It would be easy to say it was enough because Drew was always enough. But that wasn’t reassuring, and it sounded contrived even if I did wholly mean it.
“Then we learn as we go. All of us. Together.”
He nodded while tracing invisible patterns across my shoulder. “I’m afraid he’s going to resent me. Think I’m holding him back.”
“You aren’t your father, Drew.” I was firm. “You worrying about Trav’s safety is not the same as your father refusing tolet you chase your dreams to drive.”Or live any of the life you wanted.
He exhaled. “I know. I’m just…”
Traumatized because your father is an asshat.
Drew had a lot of scars from how his father raised him under such rigid expectations and then later disowned him for loving me. And even though Drew permanently tossed his parents out of our lives twelve years ago—for damn good reason—he’d become haunted that he would somehow end up like his father and ruin his relationship with his son.
In my opinion, someone who loved like Drew could never alienate his own son, but I understood his fears. I’d rather pluck out my eyelashes with a pair of rusty pliers than invalidate any of Drew’s worries with a lame “that will never happen.”
“I have an idea.”
“Does it involve whipped cream and naked time?”
I blinked.
Drew wagged his eyebrows.
