“Anything you want,” he answers.
I know I’m delirious. His cum is literally dripping out of my hole, and we just fucked on his motorcycle, surrounded by trees. But when Caesar looks at me, there’s so much care in his eyes, the truth just spills out.
“Don’t go straight back to Chicago,” I say. “Stay. At least a night.”
He shakes his head and quickly turns his eyes away. “You need your space. Don’t feel bad and think you need to put me up just because I offered you a ride.”
I take Caesar’s elbow and pull him back to face me. “I want you to stay,” I insist. He looks like he still doesn’t quite believe it. Realizing I’m still half-naked in a town I don’t even know the name of, I yank my pants up while I talk. “I’m probably going to be a mess, okay? I’ll probably start crying for no reason and get emotional about stuff that doesn’t make any sense. But if you don’t mind me getting super weird and being absolutely no fun…” I trail off and give him a hopeful look. “I’d like it if you’d stay for a bit.”
There’s an ache on Caesar’s face when he holds my gaze. I realize that he might mean it when he claims that he can’t say no to me, and I feel bad asking for something that he never expressed any interest in, like supporting me emotionally.
But I can’t stop myself from asking anyway. Not when I need him this much.
He wrinkles his brow, then takes my cheek in his hand. “You don’t have to hide anything. However you need to be, that’s fine with me.”
“Thanks, Caesar.” I smile weakly, my muscles still wobbly. “That’s a yes?”
Caesar grunts his yes. “Come on. Let’s get you home, kid.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
CAESAR
Drew’sold place is right in the middle of Creekville, a sleepy Indiana town with squat little houses and big front yards. It’s late afternoon when we roll up, and I feel Drew reacting behind me. He’s been hugging me close, but as we enter town, he pulls his hands back, gently steadying himself as he grips my side.
Even with the engine rumbling and my eyes on the road, I can feel his tension.
He’s asked me to stay and take care of him, so that’s what I’m going to do. There are a million other worries that my grumpy ass can get hung up on, but when Drew says that he needs me, all I can say is yes.
I roll into the driveway of the little blue house. There are two wide windows over a row of shrubs and flowers, all neatly kept, and a big two-car garage sits to the side of the house. The sun shining down on the neighborhood, it’s a pretty fucking sight, and I feel something funny in my chest when I think of Drew growing up here.
“Wow.” He steps off the bike and yanks off his helmet. His hair is messy, and he has that dazed expression he gets from a long motorcycle ride, although I can see other emotions swirling in his eyes. “We’re here.”
I step off and clasp his shoulder, trying to reassure him. “Safe and sound.”
Drew’s eyes dart across the street, straight to the neighbors, and he tenses. I realize that maybe he doesn’t want me touching him out in public here. That sends a tornado of frustration and anger through me. I don’t go blabbing my personal business to other people, but I never hide myself, either.
I pull my hand back anyway. I’m here for Drew, so my own shit doesn’t really matter.
“Want to show me inside?” I ask.
Drew nods quickly, then turns to the house. I grab his bag and follow. He doesn’t say anything, but I see his hands are shaky when he unlocks the door, then pushes it open.
“This is the house,” he says, talking fast and avoiding my eyes. “It’s nothing fancy. Mom didn’t like having a lot of stuff to dust, and the medical equipment used to take up so much room, you know?” Drew turns and finally looks at me. “Do you want a water? There’s no beer. I should have thought to pick up beer for you on the way. I’m sorry.”
He’s looking at me, a heartbreaking mixture of worry and hope on his face. There’s a modestly decorated living room around him, a few framed pictures on the white walls, and a plastic covering over the lavender couch, and Drew holds the leather jacket limply in one hand.
“I don’t need a beer,” I tell him. I want to say more, but when I catch the glint of a tear in his eye, I just push the door shut behind me and cross to him. “Come here,” I say and pull him into a hug.
Drew throws himself against me, dropping the jacket to the floor. For a minute, I just hold him. I listen as his breath becomes more ragged, and I squeeze him tighter, and then Drew erupts in a sob.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says. He squeezes his slim arms around me tighter, and I rock him against me. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“Don’t apologize,” I insist. “Whatever you need.”
His tears fucking rip me open. Drew’s my ray of sunshine, and I want to kick the ass of whatever makes him cry. He should always be happy, and so I keep holding him, hoping he’ll feel that.
Drew pulls back and wipes at his eyes. “Thanks, Caesar.”
