Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Bracing myself for the unknown, wishing I’d worn something a little more respectable, I step through the front door with Drake behind me. A woman, unmistakably Drake’s mother, looks up from a small table in the kitchen. Her eyes have bags, and exhaustion streaks her features, but she’s beautiful, nonetheless. And when she sees Drake? Her whole face lights up.
She stands, holding her arms out for her son. “Oh, you sweet boy. Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” He wraps her in one of his warm hugs. I know how transformative those are and understand why she needed one tonight. “Are you okay?”
I peer around the kitchen, sure that I can hear echoes of laughter and happy birthday songs and silverware clattering against plates. The air is warm and spicy, reminding me of cinnamon. A cookie jar is by a bay window, undoubtedly filled with homemade treats.
“Mom,” Drake says, turning to me. “This is Gianna. Gianna, this is Barb Bennett, my mother.”
Her gaze shifts to me as a broad smile stretches across her face. “I’m a hugger,” she warns, coming to me with the same open arms she had for Drake.
“Oh.”
Drake chuckles at my reaction as Barb pulls me against her. My eyes go wide as if to say, What the fuck is going on? But it only amuses him more.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bennett,” I say as she leans away. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here tonight.”
“It’s Barb. And you just put the first smile I’ve had on my face all week.” She pats my cheek lovingly. I freeze at the gesture despite the rivers of warmth cascading through me. “Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coke? Water?”
“I’m fine,” I say, not wanting her to worry about me. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
“Nonsense. I want you to make yourself at home.” She points at a cabinet by the sink. “There are cups in there and bowls and plates in the one beside it. The pantry is over there. Have what you want out of the fridge, honey.” She clasps her hands at her chest. “I’m just happy you’re here.”
“Oh, well, I … I’m happy to be here,” I say, fumbling over my words.
Drake’s brows pull together for a split second before he stands by my side. His palm nestles in the small of my back while he speaks with his mom. The contact helps calm my jitteriness.
“Let’s go into the living room,” Barb says. “I’ve sat in this kitchen all night and the chair is killing my back. Are you sure you two don’t want anything? I have some leftover meatloaf in the fridge.”
“If we’d known we were coming, we wouldn’t have eaten,” Drake says, winking at me. “How’s Dad? Is he asleep?”
Barb sighs, her shoulders drooping. “Yes. Finally. I’m going to see if the doctor can give him something stronger to help settle him at night when he’s like this. It’s like having a toddler again, only this toddler says some pretty cruel things, drives a car, and uses a chainsaw. This makes Evie as a toddler seem like a teddy bear.”
Oh, Barb. No wonder she’s exhausted.
We move through a passway filled with pictures of Drake and two blond girls who heavily resemble him. There are shelves with trophies and plaques—newspaper articles framed and preserved. I’d love to go through them someday and read all about his accomplishments.
I bet his parents are so proud of him.
“I’m sorry that I bothered you,” Barb says as we all take a seat. Drake and I sit by the window, and Barb takes a floral print chair by a brown recliner. “I just … I didn’t know who to call. If I call your sisters, I get Evie thinking the world is going to stop spinning and Elodie thinking she needs to take over everything. There’s no one to vent to that won’t cause me a bigger headache at the end.”
“It’s not a big deal. You know I’m always here to help.”
I gaze at his profile as he looks at his mother.
Drake is unlike any man I’ve ever known. He’s beautiful in a masculine way, with a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. He’ll stop what he’s doing to take care of those he loves. He’s sturdy and reliable, sweet and kind. I understand precisely why Barb called her son. If I had the option when something was wrong, I’d call him, too.
The room shifts as that thought filters through my brain. I’ve never felt like I could count on anyone before. Every person in my life, aside from Astrid and Audrey—and Lucia since our parents passed—has spectacularly failed me or not given a shit when I needed them to at one point or another. But my first, automatic thought about Drake was that I trusted him.
Holy shit.
“I know it’s not going to get any easier,” Barb says as I tune back into their conversation. “The scary part is that I don’t know what it’s going to look like. It’s still so new, and the unknown is terrifying.”