One Week Girlfriend (Drew + Fable #1)(50)

It’s a wonder he was able to be with me at all last night.

I slept fitfully the last hour or so of the drive, waking up with a jolt when the truck comes to a complete stop and he shuts off the engine. I lift my head and peer out the window, discovering we’re in the parking lot of my apartment complex.

Yay. I’m home.

“We’re here,” he says, his deep voice deathly quiet. “Need help with your bag?”

I stare at him in disbelief. “Is this really how we’re going to end it?”

His gaze meets mine and it’s full of so much pain, I almost look away. But I refuse. He’s not going to win. I refuse to let him drive me away. “You heard what she said, Fable. No way do I expect you to stick around for that.”

“You really think that less of me? Really?” God, he infuriates me. I want to smack him and hug him, all at once. “Fine.”

I reach behind me and grab my duffel bag then throw open the door, climbing out of the truck so quickly, I almost fall on my ass.

“Fable.”

The sound of my name makes me pause, my fingers gripping the edge of the truck door that I was so eager to slam only a second ago. “What?”

“I—I need to process. I need to figure this all out.” His eyes implore me to understand. “I need time.”

Shaking my head, my chin trembles and I push past it. I refuse to cry in front of him. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t push me away, Drew.”

He inhales deep and looks away from me. That tick is still in his jaw and his expression is so tight, I’m afraid he might shatter. “I don’t know how to handle everything with someone else’s help. I’m used to coping on my own.”

My heart breaks just a little more. I don’t know how it’s still intact, with everything we’ve gone through. “Come in with me. I need to check on Owen and then…then we can talk. Okay?”

“Owen.” His gaze meets mine and he sighs. It’s like he’s forgotten everything and I brought him back to my reality. “Go to your brother. He needs you too. He’s more important right now.”

“Drew…” Owen is important, he’ll always be important, but my worry for Drew matters far, far more. I’m afraid of what he might do if I’m not around.

“Go, Fable. I’ll…I’ll call you.”

“No, you won’t.” Anger fills me and I slam the truck door hard, disappointed at how unsatisfied that still leaves me.

I head toward my apartment building, my shoulders hunched against the light smattering of rain that falls from the dark, angry sky. I hear Drew start up the truck, hear his voice call my name from his open window but I don’t turn around.

I don’t answer him.

I do as he says and go to my brother instead.

* * * *

I stop short when I see my mom sitting on the couch, her eyes bloodshot, her cheeks blotchy. She looks like she’s been crying. Owen’s standing behind the couch, a helpless expression on his young face and his eyes fill with relief when he sees me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her as I shut the door.

She glares at me. “I live here. Where else do you think I’d be?”

Not bothering to say anything, I go to Owen and give him a quick hug. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” He slants a nervous glance in Mom’s direction. “Now that you’re here, do you care if I go over to Wade’s for a little bit? I’ll be back by dinner, I promise.”

“I thought we were going to the movies.” I so need the distraction. My head is filled with Drew and all the crazy drama that is his life, and I’d prefer to watch a mindless stupid movie for a while and forget.

Though I know that won’t really work. How can I ever forget him? Even for a little while?

“I think Mom wants to talk to you.” He fidgets. Clearly, he wants to make his escape.

“We’ll go to the movies some other time.” I ruffle his dark blonde hair and he ducks from under my grip, shooting me a winsome smile. “What do you think about having pizza for dinner tonight?”

His face lights up as he heads to the door. “Really? All right.”

I watch Owen leave, turning to Mom when the door shuts behind him. She’s watching me warily, her blonde hair—so like mine—tumbling over her eyes. Her eyeliner is heavy, her lips pinched. I have a flash in my mind of me looking exactly like this twenty years from now and the thought alone nearly takes me to my knees.

I refuse to turn into my mother, no matter how similar of a path I’m taking to hers.

“Why does he ask you if he can leave and he doesn’t ask me?” Mom waves a hand at the closed door. “He acts like you’re his mother.”

“If you were home more often, then maybe he would ask you.” I take the duffel bag into my room and dump it onto my unmade bed. I left the place a mess. There’re clothes everywhere, a jumble of cheap jewelry left on my old dresser and the mirror could use a good rubdown of Windex. I use this room to sleep and really for nothing else, since I’m always running around working or doing…whatever.

Imagining bringing Drew to my apartment, into my room, he’d probably be disgusted. He’s sort of a neat freak and everyone that lives here is sort of not.