“Oh, my God! How can you watch this shit?” Drew laughed at the stilted dialogue. “Seriously, if this is the quality you’re looking for, you might as well turn on some porn. At least then we could both rub one out.”
My mouth gaped open as I stared at Drew. He smiled wickedly, and I knew he’d said that on purpose. One glance toward his waist revealed that at least one part of his body was uninjured and ready to go. It would be so easy to make a move. He wanted this.
“Yeah, that would be swell,” I scoffed. “Knowing my luck, your mom would wake up and started searching the house for you. She’d come down here and scream at me for taking advantage of her baby boy.”
Drew shifted closer to me. Every small movement sent a flare of pain across his face, but he was determined. My breathing grew labored as I watched him, trying to find the words to stop him.
“What if I told her that I’m the one taking advantage of you?” His casted arm hit the back of the couch with a soft thud as his other hand slid up my leg. “I want you to show me that I’m not broken. Show me that I can feel something other than pain.”
God, I wanted to be that person for him. I wanted to show him everything he needed and more. But I couldn’t, not yet. Not so soon after the attack when he was on painkillers and likely not making the best decisions.
As much as it killed me to do so, I pushed Drew away before we were incapable of stopping what felt inevitable. I briefly leaned in to kiss a bruise on the side of his face. He needed to know I wasn’t rejecting him, I was simply trying to do the right thing.
“Maybe we should head upstairs,” I told him. I stood and held out my hand to him.
Drew simply shook his head. “I think I’m going to stay down here a bit longer. You go up, I’ll be fine.”
When I looked back as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw a mask of indifference where there’d so recently been lust. I hoped he’d understand that walking away from him was one of the hardest things I’d ever done off the field.
7
Drew
I felther presence before I opened my eyes. When I did, my mind took a trip back in time to when I was a teenager and slept in the basement after sneaking in from one of the team’s parties. Even though she was barely over five feet tall, Mom towered over me with her hands on her hips, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.
“Andrew Joseph, what exactly do you think you’re doing down here?” She lectured me as she began picking up the throw pillows off the floor.
I had no clue how they got there and could barely give her an answer as to how I got to the couch in the media room. I looked down and saw that I was wearing a pair of ratty, faded sweatpants and nothing else. Memories of last night started creeping to the forefront of my mind.
Eric waking me when I had a nightmare.
Him helping me shower to get the dirt and hospital grime off my body.
His body pressing against mine.
His hands gliding over my body as he washed me.
I quickly covered my lower half with an afghan to keep Mom from seeing my predicament. Then I remembered him walking away from me. Rejecting me. And suddenly there was nothing to hide.
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” I admitted. “Eric was up and suggested we come down here so we wouldn’t wake you. I must’ve fallen asleep.”
Mom sucked in a sharp, disapproving breath. “That’s probably because you were worn out and had no business traipsing all over the house. Now, let’s get you back to your bed.”
“Mom, I’m fine,” I snapped. She retreated, her shoulders slumped forward. I hated when she did that. It was as though she took my declaration as a personal affront. It wasn’t, I just needed my space. I reached out to her and draped my good arm over her shoulders as I kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“You always were a stubborn, grouchy ass when you didn’t feel well.” Mom sighed, and I knew we’d get past this. Or at least I hoped we would, but she’d need to see that I wasn’t completely dependent on anyone, even with cracked ribs and a broken arm. “I know you think I’m a pain in your backside, but that’s only because I worry about you. You might be a grown man and a hot-shot athlete now, but a mother never stops worrying about her baby boy.”
“Yes Mom,” I grumbled. “But please don’t call me your baby boy in front of the guys. They’ll use that against me for the rest of my career.”
“Okay sweetie,” she promised as she reached up to pat my cheek. “Now, let’s get you upstairs. Eric was up before your father and I, and he’s making breakfast.”
Eric never cooked. Or at least he hadn’t in the week since he’d gotten home. I couldn’t remember if he had last winter or not, but then again I wasn’t around as much since I’d gone home to help my parents. They needed my help, whether they’d ask for it or not. I glared at the stupid fucking cast on my arm, knowing that I’d be worthless to them for a while.
When we got upstairs, Eric poured me a cup of coffee and dumped three spoonfuls of sugar into the mug before handing it to me. My stomach did this stupid little flip thing over the knowledge that he knew how I liked my coffee.
Most of the guys thought it was disgusting, but I didn’t drink the coffee because it tasted good. I’d had my first cup when I was eight and I’d needed the sugar to make it palatable. Ever since then, I hadn’t seen a need to cut back.
“Thanks,” I said as I eased myself onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. My mom said something about leaving the two of us alone while she got dressed for the day. It wasn’t necessary, but I figured it was her way of trying to let me know she wasn’t going to be up my ass the whole time they were there. “So, what’s for breakfast?”
