Holy fucking shit, this is your friend and publicist, Will.
Jon Morgan, second season: ninety-two goals, one hundred twenty assists.
“Don’t you remember that after he retired from hockey, he started following NASCAR and Formula 1 more carefully? He got invited to a number of track days, and he dragged us all along.” Drew moves down a gear and takes a left. “Turns out, I actually really enjoyed them and picked up the basics pretty fast.”
No fucking kidding.
“This is a nice car,” she adds as we pull into the venue’s parking lot, but instead of heading to the valet, she finds a space at the back and kills the engine.
“Why are we parking here?” I ask, keeping my eyes on her face and not her right thigh. I swear that slit is gradually working higher.
She takes her purse from where I’ve been holding it in my lap and hands me the car keys.
“This is a charity gala, and you read my emails about the importance of arriving in a modest style, no?”
I shrug. “Just because I drive nice cars doesn’t mean I’m not humble.”
She deadpans in a way only that Drew can. “William, do you even know the meaning of humble?”
I feign hurt, but actually, her words do kind of sting. It sucks to be misunderstood, thanks to an online persona I’ve manufactured, but to hear that Drew thinks I’m full of myself bothers me way more than it probably should. Even if she is responsible for my public image.
“If you had your own way tonight, what would you have me do?” I ask her genuinely.
She drops her eyes and thinks on it for a second, examining the purse that matches her stiletto sandals. “I’d like you to engage with a few of the sponsors—notably Repeet—take a few photos with some of the families who have been invited here tonight by the charity, sign some autographs, and make a couple of donations during the auction. Tonight’s event is about supporting people who truly know the meaning of having nothing in life.”
While tonight’s nominated charity isn’t the one run by Coach and Mia, it is another domestic abuse foundation, which focuses on rehoming women and families who have been rendered homeless due to violence from a former partner.
A lump sticks in my throat when I think about what Coach endured when he was a kid and the horrors he witnessed at thehands of his dad, who has been behind bars for most of my lifetime.
And while those thoughts weigh heavily in my mind for a second, I’d be an idiot to miss the slump in Drew’s shoulders or the sudden shine to her eyes.
This might be unwise, but to hell with the consequences. No one can see us in the darkened parking lot anyway. I take Drew’s hand in mine and rest it in my lap, squeezing her fingers gently. Her skin feels as soft and smooth as it looks, but there’s a chill to her fingers that makes me want to wrap my other palm around her hand and bring it to my mouth, blowing on her skin to warm it up.
“I know this night means a lot to you, Drew. It does to me too. Mom and Dad have only told June and me a few details about Jessie’s past. And I can only imagine how hard it must be for you guys to process what happened to him.”
“To them both.” Drew sniffs quietly. “Mom got caught up in the violence one time too.”
I squeeze her fingers tighter. “Your parents mean a lot to me.” I swallow hard. “As do you.”
She doesn’t say anything in response, ocean-blue eyes searching mine. Ordinarily, nothing about Drew screams that she’s only twenty-one. She carries herself with grace, maturity, and sophistication. Right now though, she looks incredibly vulnerable, and that stirs a foreign feeling inside me—one I don’t totally recognize, but one I don’t mind being there.
“I wasn’t going to say anything until later, but I already made a donation before I arrived at your place.”
Her attention whips to me, eyes wide with delight. “You did?”
I nod once, so fucking happy that I took a second out of my day to open the email from the charity, asking for advance donations.
“I figured since I’d treated myself to a new car, I should pay it forward and donate the same amount to charity.”
Drew chokes on her own breath, sputtering out, “What?! This car has to be at least two hundred fifty thousand dollars!”
Sure, the donation can be written off on my taxes, but that’s not why I did it.
“Maybe it can set up a family for a year or so.”
Drew bursts out laughing, and I find myself smiling at her.
“Will!”
