“That’s not what I want to hear,” Drew said softly.
“I’m not planning on starting up again.”
“You can come to meetings with me. There are a few in the city, and we’re here a lot for Drew’s school.” I shocked myself with the offer. Talking about my problems at meetings was weirdly private, even though a bunch of strangers were there, and having Laken along would make it more personal—and difficult.
He studied me, those blue eyes cutting right to my soul. “Yeah, if you think it will help. Brandon said the same thing.”
“It’s done a lot of good for me,” I murmured, and hated talking about this, but I’d said a lot of things about my alcoholism and pill popping in front of complete strangers. I wasn’t sure why this was worse.
“We won’t let you go without some help,” Drew said firmly.
“Rolánd got out of TFC before me. His family is giving me a job. I have work and a place to stay, and you said groceries to start out. That’s a hell of a lot more than I thought I’d get.” He cleared his throat and rubbed at his arm with one hand. I glanced up and could have sworn he’d gotten taller. The kid was still young enough he was growing. I clenched my jaw.
“And we’ll get you a bus pass,” I said. “Angel used to ride the bus everywhere, so I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Drew cut me a look but didn’t say anything, and Laken smiled at me. “Thanks.”
I cleared my throat, my emotions spinning out of control after spending hours talking about the AS and Tatum Black and everything I’d seen. I breathed deep and held it until I had no choice but to let the air leak from my lungs. “The house? Wanna see it?”
Laken’s smile faltered, but I caught Drew out of the corner of my eye shaking his head at him. “Yeah, let’s go over there. I’m curious to see it, too.”
The trip only took about twenty-five minutes because we’d hit a break in the afternoon traffic. The second Drew pulled his Jeep in front of my home, I knew something was dead wrong. There was landscaping around the front that had never existed, with pink rose bushes in full bloom. Thick, lush grass grew over the entire lawn. Marigolds lined a freshly poured sidewalk. The siding had been replaced with something that resembled slate, and even the roof was a different color—blue. Someone had redone the gutters. The windows had been replaced and looked like they might open now. There was a sturdy new ramp leading to the front door, and even that was different—a beautiful wooden centerpiece on the house that had an old-world quality I couldn’t quite explain. The metal fixtures were nice. I dragged my keys out of my pocket and stared at them.
“This isn’t the same. Could Angel have sold the house without me when I was in jail?”
Drew shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything that would have let him do that, and it would have taken a tax lien a lot longer than this to catch up with you. I know of people who’ve had them on their houses ten years or more before they’re taken and sold.”
“Hmm.” Laken leaned up between the seats, and I had to laugh as his eyebrows hitched. “That’s tight. You’re going to let me stay here? It’s really nice.”
“A wrinkle has cropped up,” Drew said. “Let’s go check it out?” He sent me a questioning glance.
“Shit, why not.” I opened my door, but I was slow, so Laken crawled out behind Drew’s seat and bebopped around to stand near me, rocking on his heels as he stared at the place. Drew came around and shooed Laken off toward the front porch. I turned but didn’t get to my feet just yet. Drew rested his hands on my thighs as I sat there looking at the house and breathing hard for no good reason. My chest tightened. My eyes stung.
“Babe, I’ve got you. What’s wrong?”
I shook my head as loneliness welled up in me, even though he was right in front of me. “I don’t want to be here. I hate this fucking place. I hate everything about it. I want to set it on fire.”
Drew rested his forehead against mine, and I sighed in relief as my chest unclenched, the longer I let myself stare at the brown of his irises. “You’re not staying here. You’re letting a boy who had some shit luck and made some really bad decisions stay here. Do you want me to go in and check it out while you stay in the Jeep?” He rubbed his thumbs along my knees, grounding me in the moment.
“No. I should see this. I should see how much I fucked everything up just because I was feeling bad on the inside and wanted everything outside of me to match.”
Drew lifted my chin with his finger. “I’ll do this for you. I don’t want this to be some sort of fucked-up penance. You’re doing a nice thing, a good thing, and you’re leaving with me when we’re finished.”
Nodding, I swallowed hard. “Okay. But I want to see it.”
“You don’t have to go in.”
“Just hold my hand,” I muttered.
When I got out, he did more than hold my hand; he snuggled me right into the crook of his arm and rubbed his fingers along my hip. I got the feeling he wouldn’t let go, not that I tried to make him. Laken stared at us with interest for a few seconds, but then turned to look out along the flowers lining the house.
“The grass is cut. Someone is taking care of this place.” He jerked a thumb at the lawn, and I hummed in agreement.
The door was completely different, as I’d noticed from the street, so I didn’t expect my key to fit into the lock on the handle, but it did. I blinked in confusion and turned my key. When I pushed the door open, I gaped and shuffled inside. It was a brand-new house. The living space was still small, but whoever had redone it lightened the place up with a skylight right above the door, and two more around the main room. It wasn’t a cave anymore. The sunshine came right inside. The walls were a friendly blue that was almost as bright as white, and there were comfortable leather couches around the living room, arranged to give someone with a wheelchair space to move around. There was a mechanical recliner that raised a person to standing so they wouldn’t have to use their legs to get up—I’d had one a long time ago I’d managed to break.
Those chairs were expensive. I cleared my throat, and Drew’s arm tightened around me.
The cigarette smell was gone, and oddly, that made me crave one. The carpet had been removed—it had never been great for the wheelchair—and a shiny wooden floor had replaced it. I tapped my cane, and the boards sounded like real wood, not that fake stuff.
