“What about Drew Callahan? Wouldn’t you want to move in with him? Isn’t he rich?”
I grimace. “I have no idea what’s going on with Drew. But you and me? We’re blood. We’re family. I’m not about to leave you. We’re all each other has.”
“What’s Mom gonna do? Don’t you think she’ll get mad?”
“I doubt it. This way she doesn’t have to worry about us and she can go live with her boyfriend. I can find a nicer place that’s smaller and pay less rent. It’s a win-win for us all.” I can’t think about Mom getting upset with me for wanting to do this. Why should she care? I’m making her life easier.
“What happens if it doesn’t work out for her and Larry the Loser? Then where will she go?”
“Owen.” I grip his knee tighter. “She’s not our responsibility. She’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”
He tilts his head, screws up his lips. Looking far older and world-weary than any fourteen-year-old should. “I just worry about her. I worry about you too. I’m supposed to be the man of the house.”
My jaw drops. “Who told you that?”
“Mom. A long time ago. She said I had to watch out for the both of you and I promised I always would. I haven’t done the best job of it but I swear, I try.”
My heart breaks for this kid. He’s gone through so much at too young of an age. He’s seen too much. Grabbing his shoulders, I bring him in for a quick hug, not holding on to him for too long since I know he’ll just wiggle out of my grip anyway. “We’ll take care of each other, okay? It’s not all on me or all on you. We’ll share the load.”
“I’ll help you with whatever you need, Fabes. I’m on your side. I promise.” He clings to me again and I hug him close, savoring it for a little while longer. I love him so much. I hate that he’s conflicted between Mom and me.
“Go take a shower,” I tell him once I get up off his bed and start out of his room. “And when you get home today, I want you to clean this room. It sucks.”
His laughter follows me down the hall as I head toward the kitchen. I’ve been up for over a half hour, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Thinking of looking for an apartment today, talking to Owen about it, maybe gathering up the courage to talk to Mom about her moving out.
Trying my best to not think of Drew.
What the hell happened last night, anyway? Our fight had started out of nothing. I tried to be honest with him and he got all macho-man-how-many-guys-have-you-fucked-anyway on me. I accept him for who he is, flaws and all, so why can’t he accept me?
I get irritated just thinking about it. So it’s best I don’t.
A knock sounds at the door and I scowl. Who the hell is here at seven in the morning? Stomping over to the door, I look through the peephole but I see nothing. I throw open the door and peek to the left, then the right. No one’s there.
Then I glance down and find a gorgeous bouquet of wildflowers sitting on the thin, faded doormat. The vase is full of a riot of colorful blooms, I can’t identify any of them beyond their pretty colors. I know in an instant who they’re from.
Drew.
Grabbing the vase, I clutch it in my hand as I step farther outside, my gaze steady as I study the parking lot. But I don’t see his truck. I don’t see any indication he’s been here at all but the flowers in my hand.
How the heck did he get them here and then disappear? I know he’s fast on the football field but come on. Where did he go?
“Who the hell was knocking—oh. Lover Boy.”
I turn to see Owen grinning at me, wearing a stained T-shirt with some unknown and I’m sure crappy band’s logo on the front, and black faded skinny jeans. We both walk back into the apartment together. “That’s what you’re wearing to school?”
He glances down at himself. “I’m not going to the prom. Gimme a break. Hey, you got any smokes?”
“Owen! Promise me you’re not smoking.” The guilty look on his face says it all. If the flowers weren’t so beautiful, I’d hurl the vase at him, I’m so pissed. “You’re too young to smoke. It’s a horrible, nasty habit.”
“You do it.”
“Not all the time. I mostly quit.” Yeah, that sounds lame as hell.
“I only smoke every once in a while,” Owen whines. “It soothes my nerves.”
“Such a bullshit answer. I’m sure if I dug around in your room right now, I’d find some weed too. Am I right?” I raise a brow, just daring him to deny it.
His eyes widen the slightest bit right before he goes for pure defiant nonchalance. “Oh, who cares? You act like you’ve always been on the straight and narrow. I bet you’ve smoked a few bowls in your life.”