Second Chance Boyfriend (Drew + Fable #2)(33)

“I didn’t know shrinks offered emergency meetings.” It must be bad, what he wants to tell me.

“Mine is extra cool. You’d like her. She likes you,” he says, releasing his grip on my hand.

I miss his touch, as lame as it sounds. “She does?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve told her a lot about you. She’s glad you’re back in my life.” He doesn’t seem too upset, which is promising. I’m glad he has someone to talk to about his personal stuff objectively. If he mentioned that bitch’s name to me, I’d just want to go and kick her ass.

I really, really hate her.

We talk about mindless stuff the rest of the drive to his apartment. I tell him how dead the restaurant was, how long I’ve worked there, how I’ve made a friend. I also tell him about my breakfast with Owen and how bad he felt about punching Drew.

Okay, the last part is a lie. My brother is still thrilled he clocked Drew in the jaw but I can’t tell him that. How rude is this kid, getting all hopped up over the fact that he punched my new boyfriend in the face for making my life miserable?

I secretly sort of love how quick my brother defended me, though. It’s sweet. And it shows that I have reached him. No matter how frustrated I get or think he’s not listening to me, he is. He loves me and wants to make sure I’m okay. Just as much as I love him and always want to make sure he’s okay too.

Well, I’m probably the more protective of the two, but I’m the older one. The responsible one. I have to watch out for him.

“You’re a good sister,” Drew says as he pulls into the parking lot of his complex. “I hope your brother appreciates everything you do for him.”

“I think he does.”

“How about your mom?”

I’m immediately defensive. “What about her?”

He parks the truck and shuts off the engine. “Does she appreciate everything you do?”

“Half the time, I don’t think she realizes we even exist.” My voice is bitter but I can’t help it. I think of her and I’m filled with instant bitterness. It’s like instant coffee, only worse. “She’s never around. She lost her job before Thanksgiving and now she’s always hanging out with her loser boyfriend instead of taking care of Owen or, you know, working.”

“She hasn’t found another job?” He sounds incredulous.

“It’s not that easy when you don’t have a large skill set.”

“So who’s paying the rent at your place?”

“You’re looking at her.” I jab my thumb at my chest.

“And all the bills? The groceries and whatever else that needs to be paid for?”

“That would be me.”

He slowly shakes his head, the respect in his gaze clear. “Why are you so f**king amazing?”

His words send a rush of warmth through me but I bat the sensation down. “I’m just doing what I need to do. Don’t make me out as some sort of hero.”

“Anyone your age would bail. Seriously.”

“I don’t think so,” I start but he cuts me off.

“I do. You’re only twenty, Fable. And you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You take care of your brother and you pay all the bills. You’re always working and trying your best to keep your head above water.” He shakes his head slowly. “I admire you so much. You’re so strong, no matter what life throws at you.”

“I don’t have a choice,” I say with a shrug. “I do what I have to do to get by.”

“I could take lessons from you, you know that?” He leans over the center console and cups my cheek, pulling me in for a lingering kiss. “We always have a choice. And you choose to stay. Don’t ever downplay that. Most people would run like hell from all that responsibility. I would.”

I gaze into his eyes, see all the admiration and passion and…something else in their beautiful blue depths. “You underestimate yourself, Drew. As usual.”

“Fine. I’ve always run away in the past. But you, Fable. You make me want to stay.”

Drew

The minute she walks into my apartment, Fable unzips the puffy coat she hates and tosses it on the chair that sits closest to the door. Revealing a short black dress that fits her so tight, I swear I almost swallow my tongue when I first see her in it. Her body is amazing. Her legs, even though she’s short, look endless and I’m tempted to slowly peel the dress off her body and do every wicked thing I’ve imagined doing to her since I left her with her brother this morning.

Instead I ask her what toppings she prefers on her pizza and call in the order.

After I hang up, she tells me she wants to get out of the dress and wear something more comfortable so I offer up a T-shirt of mine. She follows me back to my bedroom, her sweet scent surrounding me as she stands by my side, and we go through my closet together. When I pull the shirt off the hanger, I watch in disbelief as she casually yanks the dress off over her head, letting it fall to the floor.

Standing in front of me in only a black lace bra and black panties that look more like shorts but are still somehow incredibly sexy, she holds her hand out and wiggles her fingers at me, indicating she wants the shirt. I hand it over, my mouth too dry to speak, and she tugs the T-shirt over her head. It’s old, a pale blue with a Hawaiian design on the front. I picked it up when I went on one of those shitty family vacations to the big island and I rarely wear it since it reminds me of a time—and a person—I’d rather forget.