Yeah, because he knows how it feels to lose his childhood home. Again, I cringe. I shouldn’t be complaining, but he doesn’t seem upset. In fact, his nose wrinkles a bit along the high bridge. “Er… Who is Terrance-The-Ass-Fuck?”
I fight a smile. “Her boyfriend of the moment. I wasn’t being literal, thank God.” My smile falls flat. “Though I really should call him ‘He of the Roving Hands.’”
Drew’s brows snap together, his nostrils flaring as he straightens. “He hasn’t touched you, has he?”
I can see old Terrance laid flat on a hospital bed if I say yes, but I shake my head and Drew relaxes.
“No. But he feels up my mom in front of me.”
Drew’s scowl returns. “I think I’d have gone fucking mental if I’d had to see some guy grope my mom.”
“It’s disgusting,” I say. “He does it to bother me. Because of him, she’s selling our house. Because old Terry doesn’t have the funds to pay his way.” I curse again. “There is nothing I can do. She won’t hear me, no matter what I say.”
I blink rapidly and try to calm myself, but I can’t stop talking. “I know I’m being a baby about this. It isn’t like I live there, or plan to anymore. But it’s like that final safety net is gone. And now I’ll never be able to go…” My words die, horror invading me.
But Drew looks me in the eye and finishes my sentence. “Go home again? Don’t hold back your words out of pity, Anna. I don’t need that.”
I want to shrivel into the grass. “I think there’s a difference between pity and sympathy, don’t you?”
He doesn’t break my gaze as he slowly nods. “Sometimes, without warning, I’ll catch the scents of my old home. I don’t know what it will be exactly, maybe a mix of old books and coffee, or laundry detergent and cool air.” His gaze turns inward. “But it smells just like home. And I’ll miss mine so fucking badly that I can’t breathe.”
“I wish you could go home again,” I say, wanting to cry.
Drew’s eyes lock onto me. “I do too. But I think we have to make our own homes.”
Looking at him, gilded by sunlight, his expression tight with weariness but earnest as he watches me, I think that I could love this man. I could love him forever. My breath grows short.
“When I do find my own home,” I say, “I’m never letting it go.”
His throat moves on a swallow. “Good plan.” He takes a step closer to me. “I’m sorry, Anna.”
I know he’s speaking of my mother, my loss of safe harbor. “Me too.” But I’m talking about him. Because Drew should never have lost his family. He shouldn’t have to wear a piece of his childhood home around his neck because that’s all he has left.
The tight, antsy feeling has returned. I shift on my feet, my gaze roving the field. Drew takes an audible breath and runs a hand along his sweat-damp hair. His eyes squint as the setting sun’s rays fall full on his face. “You want to try something?”
I raise a brow, and he laughs. “Such a dirty mind, Jones.”
“Why would you assume that?” I cross my arms in front of my chest. But I’m smiling too. Smiling is better. Safer. “Unless you have a dirty mind as well.”
“Of course I do.” He touches the tip of my nose with a finger, making me bat him off in annoyance. He only laughs. “Why do you think we’re so perfect together?”
My breath gets a little unsteady, and the light in his eyes dims a bit. But he simply picks up his football. “However, this time, I was just going to ask if you’d like to toss around the ball.”
“Throw a football?”
“Such a sour face,” Drew observes way too happily. “It isn’t going to blow up in your hand.”
“Says you. I suck at sports.”
He rolls his eyes. “No one is asking you to be good. Just throw it.” He tosses the ball high and catches it without looking. Show off. “Trust me, Jones. It’s an excellent stress reliever.”