Especially when, who the hell am I? Just a woman who stopped at his house and invited herself in for dinner?
It’s not like we’re dating or anything.
Why would he tell Maggie that I’m here and cause a rift?
“I’m going to grab my purse then,” I say and throw my thumb over my shoulder before heading inside to find it.
Drew follows.
A part of me hopes he’ll tell me to stay. That we can sit back down at that table in the backyard, fall back into that easy camaraderie we had, but I know the moment has passed.
And even worse or weirder or whatever you want to call it, I’m confused on why I want to so badly.
He watches me silently as I grab my purse and slide the strap over my shoulder. “I’ll walk you out,” he says.
“No need. I can manage on my own.” I offer him a smile that I don’t think reaches my eyes and head for the door.
“Brex. Wait,” he says just as my hand reaches the handle. When I turn to face him, I’m surprised to see him so close to me. “Thank you for stopping by. I had a good time catching up. I apologize for this.” He waves his hand in the space between us. “Maggs is Maggs. I need to stop hoping she’ll somehow be different so that I stop being disappointed when she isn’t.”
I don’t understand what he’s talking about, but I smile and nod. “The only person you can control in life is yourself, Drew. You know that.”
“I do, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” I reach out and squeeze his hand. “Thank you again.”
“Maybe we could do this again sometime. Finding friends who knew me when are few and far between most days.”
I nod, trying to not be miffed by the friend comment, and smile softly. “I’d like that.”
And I would. There’s something about him that makes me remember how easy life used to be before adulthood happened.
“’Night, Bratty Brex.”
“Good night, Dreadful Drew.”
This time when I walk away, he lets me.
But after I climb in my car and glance back at his house, he’s still standing there in his doorway watching me.
I wave and drive away with a crush that has been rekindled. And that’s all it can remain. My heart has been hurt so many times before that I wish it were more jaded, because there is comfort in spending time with a friend who knew you when.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DREW
“YOU REALLY SHOULD KEEP YOUR front door locked,” I warn as I stride into my parent’s house irritated at how my evening has turned.
“Drew. Oh.” My mom claps her hands in front of her where she stands in the kitchen when she catches sight of me. “You paid us a visit.”
“Anyone can walk right in here.” I walk toward her and press a kiss to her cheek, noticing and grateful my father is nowhere in sight. “We live in a good neighbor—” But when her eyes meet mine her words fade. “Drew?”
“She’s using again.”
Her sigh is as audible as the shake of her head is resigned. But it’s her eyes widening that tells me she gets my gist. That she understands that Maggie might come by only to steal something to feed her habit.
Some things are like clockwork in this family and that’s one of those things.
“How do you know?” Ever the mother, she shakes her head as if she rejects what I’m saying. Maggie could never do wrong in her eyes and even all these years later, it’s still hard for her to see otherwise.
But I looked like him. I played the same sport. It was much easier for her to shift blame on me.
“She came to my house asking for money.”
“I see,” she says quietly. “And you did what?”
“I told her no. I told her—”
“But, Drew, what is she going to do to get money?” Desperation and fear are woven into every thread of her voice.
I bite back my sharp rebuke, knowing it won’t do any good. “I don’t know, Mom. The same thing she does every other time she needs it. I pay for her home and her utilities. It’s not my job to feed her habit, and I’d hope if she showed up here, you’d feel the same way.”
“Of course,” my mom says with a wave of her hand as if my suggestion is nonsense. At the same time though, I know how hard I struggle with the decision to keep Maggs at arm’s length, so I imagine it’s even harder in Mom’s shoes. “You came all the way over here to tell me that? You could have just called.”
“That would mean you’d actually have to carry your phone with you and answer it,” I say, referring to a long-running gripe I have. They got rid of their landline, but they forget to answer their cell phones.
She gives me the look that every kid knows from their mother. The one that says drop it. “Did you tell Wayne?” she asks, referring to Maggie’s ex and Charley’s father.
“He was the first person I called,” I say, thinking how I stood at my front door watching Brexton’s taillights until they disappeared down the street. How I wished I could have my evening back with her instead of dealing with this bullshit. “He said not to worry. Charley is and will be fine.”
“It still makes me nervous.” She moves around the counter and points to the couch for me to make myself at home. “Please don’t tell your father. When he gets agitated, everything flares up, and we’ve been on a roll of good days lately.”
I nod. “Yeah, I forgot. I need to start tiptoeing around here to forgo the inevitable fight.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She moves closer and lowers her voice. “Maybe you should try talking to him again.”
My laugh is caustic. Memories slam into me. His sharp words and cold shoulder. The man I love more than anything feels like he gets further and further away from me when all I want to do is understand.
Why he walked away.
Why he can’t come to my games.
Why he resents my career because he didn’t fight for his.
“Surely you don’t mean that. Last time was a disaster.” And last time was before his diagnosis.
When I dared to ask him for all the details . . . and we didn’t speak for over a year.
She stares at me, a woman who I think knows way too much and is stuck between her husband’s secrecy and her son’s need to know.
I don’t envy her.
Not one bit.
And that’s why I’m about to leave well enough alone when I hear his voice.
“Drew. What a surprise,” Dad says as he makes his way to his chair and takes a seat. I watch each movement for signs of progression, but my mom is right, despite the tremors in his hands, he seems to be doing okay.
The untouchable man I’ve always hoped someday to be close to again.
“Dad,” I say with a nod as I meet his eyes.
The strain is still there, even after all this time.
The sense of betrayal still between us.
The distance can’t be resolved.
I’m the kid who went against his parents’ wishes. The son who played a game his father left behind and a father who has resented it ever since. I’m the child who has lived a great, upstanding life while Maggie has screwed up everything she touches—everything but Charley, of course—and yet I’m the one who’s still on the opposite end of the awkward silences.