I give him a kiss, gentle and slow. I’m not sure what to say, so I default into what I do know how to do, which is to take care of him. “You should eat.”
“Oh, right.” Drew rubs the back of his head. “There’s probably something we could defrost.”
“I can go to the store. Order some pickup. Whatever you want.”
Drew smiles weakly. There are still tears in the corners of his eyes, but at least the raw hurt is softer. “The pizza place delivers. They’re pretty good. Anyway, I’m sure the neighborhood gossips are already busy talking about the motorcycle parked outside my house. We don’t need to give them any more material today.”
I frown. “The neighbors don’t like you?”
“It’s not that. They just love to gossip, and my mom was pretty uptight about her reputation, honestly…” He trails off. Then a different smile fills his face, warm but somehow sad at the same time.
“Okay,” I answer, not wanting to push when he’s in such a delicate place.
Drew crosses over to the wall and removes a photo. “This is her,” he says. “Annabel.”
I take the frame. It’s a professional photo, taken in front of what I assume is the stationary store, probably ten years ago. The woman wears a smart gray skirt and a blouse that’s buttoned to her neck, and she has a slim, forced smile.
“She wasn’t the kind of woman who had a motorcycle parked in front of her house,” Drew tries to explain.
“What’s wrong with a motorcycle?”
I say it harsher than I intend, like I’m pissed, and Drew immediately starts to apologize for her, wringing his hands. “It’s nothing. She just likes to do things her way. It’s not like she was judgmental or anything. Or at least not in a horrible way.”
“Shit.” I grab his hand to stop him from fussing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything.”
Who the hell cares if she was uptight? The woman is gone, and Drew misses his mother. That’s all that matters.
“You want me to push my bike into the garage? Save you some hassle?”
Drew’s face softens. “No. No, that’s okay. I don’t know why I’m trying to hide anything in the first place. I think I’m just overwhelmed by being home or something.”
“Because you miss your ma. You’re a good man, and you want to do right by her.”
“I guess.” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, then grabs the photo from my hand, which he promptly places back on the wall. “It’s weird. I’m so used to taking care of her full-time. Now that she’s not here, it feels like I’m forgetting something. It wasn’t so bad in Chicago…” He turns back to me, and more of a smile flips up the corner of his mouth. “I was distracted. But now that I’m back, it feels like I’m neglecting her, not immediately rushing to check the machines and sort out her meds.”
“You’re not neglecting anything,” I tell him. “All you need to worry about is yourself.”
Drew reaches out and strokes the side of my face, the kind of thing I usually do to him. He scrapes his thumb over my stubble and looks me in the eye. “What about you?” he says softly. “Do you need anything?”
“Just the number of that pizza shop.”
Drew smiles. “It’s on the fridge.”
“Why don’t you hop in the shower? Wash the road off. I’ll order the food and unload the bike.”
A flush warms Drew’s cheeks. “I should probably clean up from our pit stop.”
I chuckle. “Can’t say I didn’t enjoy knowing you were full of my cum on the last stretch of that ride.”
He laughs and kisses me. “This is why I can’t invite you into the shower with me right now.”
I kiss him back, deeper this time. “Clean up. I’ll be here.”
Drew excuses himself to the bathroom. When he shuts the door, I let out a deep grunt, then rub my hand over my face.
Shit. I’m in way over my fucking head.
I don’t know how to be there for Drew, not like this. I should be reassuring him, but instead I snap like a cranky asshole when he says something about the motorcycle in the driveway.
