He needs something, and I don’t know how to give it to him.
I try to make myself busy. I haul the last of our stuff inside, kick off my boots, and find the kitchen. Everything is immaculately organized, and I start to notice that there’s no hint of Drew anywhere, no sign that he’s lived here for the past six years.
He might have been hiding himself. If his first instinct was to worry about me making a bad impression at the local store, maybe he didn’t let his personality shine here, at least not the same as he does in Chicago.
The realization pains me. I want to find a way to get him smiling again, but that’s not right either. He’s lost his only parent, and I know that’s plenty of reason to be sad, no matter what the reality of the relationship was.
“Caesar?”
I turn, and Drew stands there, a robe tied at his waist. His hair is wet and pushed back, and where the robe is open, his skin is damp.
“Dinner’s on the way,” I tell him.
“Thanks.” He takes a step toward me, then hesitates. “Now that we’re here, if you need to go, that’s okay. I know I asked you to stay, but you don’t really have to.”
“I’m staying,” I say sharply.
Drew swallows. “Okay.”
There I go, grunting like an asshole when he needs something different. “I mean that I’m glad to be here,” I tell him, trying again. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
Drew looks like he’s going to cry, and that’s a knife in my chest, wondering if it’s my fault this time.
“What if I’m upset the whole time you’re here? You never dump your emotions on me.”
I grit my teeth. “Doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything.”
Fact is I want to know everything about the kid. I want him to walk me through the house and tell me every memory he has, the good and the bad and the boring.
If I’m going to make him as happy as he deserves to be, I need to know all of it.
I take his hand, squeezing it softly. “When my ma died,” I try, “I didn’t have anyone to share the stories with. My family doesn’t talk to me much, and you know how I am. Unless someone asks, I’m not volunteering shit.”
Drew laughs. “Even when someone asks.”
I grunt. “You want to share some stories? Show me around the old place?”
Drew pulls my hand up to his face, and I take his cheek in my palm, following his lead. He nuzzles into my hand, looking up at me, raw and vulnerable and so damn beautiful, it breaks my heart. “Yeah, if you want.”
I nod. “I do.”
And for the rest of the night, that’s exactly what Drew does. We make our way around the house slowly, and the memories start to unspool themselves. Drew tells me about growing up, being kind of a loner in the small town and working weekends at the stationary store. He tells me more about what it took to actually care for his mom at home, a full-time caregiving job on top of running the store, and even though I know it’s changed the shape of his life, he talks about everything he did like it was nothing, just the natural duty that any son would pick up.
Fuck, he impresses me more every day. Most people don’t have a fraction of the integrity and strength that Drew has. He doesn’t brag or make a martyr of himself. He just does what has to be done.
How the hell he’s Mack’s kid, I’ll never understand.
By the time we’ve finished off the pizza and made our way through the house, it’s dark outside. Drew’s emotions have been rising and falling, and I’ve ended up hugging him tight to my chest while he cried a few times. I feel like a boulder, trying to be steady for him, but probably coming across as cold and grumpy as ever.
I struggle to put my feelings into words, but I don’t let that stop me from trying.
“You’re a good man,” I tell him, over and over. “I’m proud to be here with you.”
It’s clear we’re both exhausted, and soon enough, we end up in bed together. Every part of me reaches out to him, but I don’t even think about making a move. He needs rest, and he needs to be held, and I’m going to give him that.
I throw my arm over Drew’s body. His childhood bed is just large enough for both of us, but we have to cuddle tight to fit. Even up here, there’s not much of Drew’s personality in the room, not even old posters on the wall or books on the shelves.
My feelings for Drew rise up, stronger than ever when I think about everything he’s done and how goddamn good he is. But it’s wrong that he’s had to put himself on hold for so long, wrong that his smile disappeared the second we got to town.
