I’m unfixable.
I park my old-ass Tahoe behind his truck and climb out. He’s sitting on the open bed of his truck, waiting for me. Instead of wearing a hat, like usual, he’s dressed nicely for dinner. It would’ve been better if he’d just gone inside, rather than sat out here waiting.
“Hey,” he greets, shuddering against the chilly wind that’s messing up his gelled hair.
It’s too cold out here to be wearing a fucking Henley and no jacket. I yank out a beanie from my hoodie pocket and toss it at him. Like old times. Fuck. He frowns at the beanie, but then pulls it on over his head.
I have to look away.
Too many painful memories claw at me.
“Why are you out here?” I growl.
“I just wanted to talk before we go inside. Are you okay with me being here?”
I snap my glare to pin him with it. “Peachy.”
“Bray—”
“Next time, just go the fuck inside. Don’t wait on me.”
His footsteps thud heavily behind me as I stalk across the lawn. Before I reach the door, I suck in a calming breath. I’m not prepared to be here tonight. Everything is too brittle.
Drew clutches my shoulder, the heat of his hand warming me, making me forget for a moment what I’m stressed about. But the second I come to my senses, realizing who the hand belongs to, I shake it away and walk inside.
Lasagna.
Yum.
I may not be emotionally prepared to see my parents tonight, but my stomach whines happily. Mom’s cooking is better than anything in this world. For as close as they live to the university, I could have home-cooked meals every night.
Instead, I’m a surly asshole who’d rather eat microwavable ramen than face his parents on a frequent basis.
“Bray, baby, is that you?” Mom calls out.
She peeks her head out of the kitchen into the living room. When she sees us, she cries out happily, rushing over to me for a hug. I inhale my mom’s familiar scent and reluctantly release her so she can hug Drew. He hugs her tight, closing his eyes with unmasked joy. It annoys me I have to share her with him.
Guilt knocks me in the gut.
I’m such an asshole.
Drew and I may hate each other, but he has no one when it comes to family. Not anymore. My parents are the closest thing he has.
He had me, too, at one time.
Not anymore.
“Lasagna smells good,” I praise. “Where’s Dad?”
“We got a chimenea,” she says. “He’s getting it ready so later we can sit on the back patio. It’s a nice way to unwind.”
Drew follows Mom into the kitchen. I head out to see Dad. He’s squatted in front of the chimenea, his ass crack showing out of the back of his pants.
“Full moon tonight, Dad,” I tease, nudging his ass with my foot.
He snorts. “Don’t pick on old men.”
“You’re not old,” I grumble.
“I feel it,” he says, huffing as he stands.
Pride warms me to see him wearing the Ice Hawks beanie I gave him the last time I saw him. It’s pulled down over his ears, keeping him warm.
“You okay?” he asks. “With Drew being here?”
I freeze. “Yeah. Why?”
His lips press together in a firm line. I shift my gaze to the ground, avoiding his unpeeling of my outer layers I’ve wrapped myself up in.
“I know you and Drew aren’t on the best terms. But you know life’s too short to stay mad at your friends,” he says softly.
Each word is a blow to my fucking heart.
Life’s short, all right.
For some, nine years is all they get.
“I’m gonna take a walk,” I grit out.
“No,” Dad blurts out, panic in his tone. “Stay. I’m sorry. I’m prying. Just come inside. Mom misses ya, Son.”
Guilt wins this round. Rather than running away like I crave to, I nod at Dad and follow him inside. Mom has already put Drew to work, making him set the table. He smiles at her as he moves around the dining table as though he lives here.
At one time, he practically did.
He catches my stare and his gaze softens. I stiffen, dragging my eyes to the bubbling lasagna. Ben’s favorite. Fuck. Emotion is clawing up my chest, shredding my heart to pieces. A lump sits heavy in my throat. I’m unable to shake this feeling away. Having Drew here makes it worse.
I manage to plant myself in my chair. Mom says grace and I close my eyes, hating how my eyes burn when she mentions my brother. My teeth hurt from clenching them so hard. She finishes the prayer and I reluctantly open my lids.
Of course Drew’s eyes are locked on mine, darting back and forth as he takes in my now wet lashes. He starts talking about his new job and how some of the players need a swift kick to the ass. It does wonders to drag me away from the pain, right into the fiery zone of anger.