True Colors

by Amy Knupp

  The doors dinged open, Drake muttered a nervous curse to himself, and he exited. The walk to Ezra’s unit, where he’d been plenty of times before, was short. And then he stood there facing the door, heart racing, like a goddamn pussy, going over all his talking points in his mind as if it was a presentation for the NBS board.

  “Fuck it,” he said, and he knocked on the door.

  It took a while, but just as he was about to beat on the door again, he heard movement inside, and then the door opened and Ezra stood in front of him, eyes narrowed, brows dipping down.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Ez said, his tone chilled but more confused than outwardly hostile. He wore plaid pajama pants and a plain white T-shirt and his hair was mussed, as if he’d been in bed or something, but Drake didn’t ask. Didn’t care. He was going to force this conversation regardless.

  “Can I come in?”

  Their eyes locked for a moment in a stare down, a visual game of chicken to see who would back down first, and then without a verbal reply, Ezra stepped back and let Drake inside.

  Drake shut the door behind him, turned around, and found Ez leaning against the wall of the entryway, arms crossed over his chest, waiting.

  Ezra’s condo was similar in layout to Drake’s apartment, but with three bedrooms instead of two and a lot more square footage. To the left of the foyer they were in was the guest room, where Drake had stayed in the past, and Ez’s office. The only light in the place besides the one over their heads filtered out from the office, and Drake realized Ez had been working. No surprise there, even though it was nearly nine on a Saturday night.

  “You want to do this right here?” Drake said when Ezra made no motion toward the kitchen or living room or even the office.

  “Do what, exactly?”

  Okay, then. Here it was. “I came to talk to you about Mackenzie.”

  “Is she okay?” Ez said, alarmed.

  “She’s fine, as far as I know.” He didn’t mention he hadn’t spoken to her or seen her for over a week.

  Ezra dropped his arms to his sides and turned and walked down the short hall toward the kitchen. Drake followed and stepped into the kitchen area, delineated by tile floor instead of hardwood, and leaned his left shoulder against the pantry while Ezra continued to the fridge.

  “Beer?” Ez said as he opened the door and took one out.

  “Sure.”

  Just like old times. Friendly and all. Not.

  Ezra opened a second bottle and handed it over. He leaned against the oven, facing out over the sink and the breakfast bar and into the darkened living area. Taking a swig of beer, he waited without looking at Drake, his intent to not make this easy clear as fucking day.

  So Drake straightened away from the pantry and dove into the deep end.

  “I love your sister.” He blew out some extra air. That was the first time he’d said the words out loud—to anyone. Mackenzie should’ve been first, but he’d screwed the situation up enough that this was how it was.

  He waited for Ezra’s response—a swear word, a punch, a scowl. What Ez did was the last thing he expected.

  Ez let out an amused half laugh, half scoff. “I was wondering when you were going to figure that out.”

  Drake was the one who scowled. “What do you mean?” He himself had only figured it out in the past few hours, after leaving Cole’s new house.

  Ezra took his time answering, raising his bottle for another swallow, expelling a slow breath before he spoke. “I knew as soon as I found out you followed her to some obscure island on the other side of the globe.”

  “How could you know that? I didn’t even know.”

  “I’m not as dense as you, I guess,” Ez said smugly.

  Drake ignored the barb and understood, belatedly, Ezra’s point. He’d known at the time it was unheard of for him to do that, but he hadn’t equated it to love. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t have handled that truth at that time.

  “Question is,” Ezra said, “what are you going to do about it? When I talked to her on Thursday, she said you two were through for good.”

  “I’m hoping to convince her we’re not.”

  “How are you going to do that? Seems to me, in the month and a half since she moved to Nashville, you two have been on and off more times than a cheerleader’s uniform.”

  With a curt laugh, Drake said, “Like you said, I’m a little dense. I know I haven’t been good at handling responsibility. I’ve sucked at commitment. I’m making some changes.”

  “Such as?”

  “You’re looking at the new director of the Home Fitness Division of North Brothers Sports.”

  Ezra’s brows rose toward his hairline. “You committed to a full-time job?”

  “Got the new custom-suit wardrobe to prove it.”

  Ezra studied him with narrowed eyes for several seconds. “You’ve told Mason?”

  Drake laughed. “Two weeks ago. Official start date is Monday but I’ve been deeply enmeshed for the past week and a half. Done deal.”

  Ezra continued to stare at him as if he was still absorbing such a shock.

  “Here’s the thing,” Drake said, setting his beer down on the counter but not removing his hand from it. “We’ve been friends since middle school. You know me better than just about anyone. You, Zane, and I were inseparable back then, and when our dad died, you were there, not acting weird about it, not making us talk about it, but you were there.”

  Ezra nodded once in acknowledgment.

  “You were there again when Zane blindsided me with his decision to go the military route instead of with you and me to Memphis. You’ve seen me at my worst and you’ve seen me at my best, and the one thing you better fucking know about me is that, while I don’t commit to much, if and when I do, I follow through. I’m ready to commit one hundred percent to your sister. And I’d prefer to do it with your blessing.”

  “Does Mackenzie know you’re here?”

  “Mackenzie doesn’t know any of this yet, except that I took the job. As you mentioned, I’m a little slow, and it took losing her to realize I don’t want to be without her. When I tell her, I’m going to have a ring.”

  “Holy shit.” Ezra set his bottle down and straightened. Took a step closer to Drake, scrutinizing him hard, head cocked slightly. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see the day.” He extended his hand as if to shake. “Congratulations, man.”

  Drake looked into his friend’s eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity, then glanced down at his offered hand and finally took it.

  As they shook, Ezra said, “Screw that,” and pulled him into a man hug with enough back pounding to avoid awkwardness. “Welcome to the family, Drake.”

  Drake stepped back, his mind more than a little blown, and said, “Really?”

  Ezra let out a genuine laugh and said, “Hell yes. As long as you’re getting your shit straight, there’s nothing that could make me happier than you and Mackenzie being together.”

  “Well, then Merry fucking Christmas, a few months early,” Drake said, laughing. “Have to admit I was sweating hard. Your jab hurts like a son of a bitch.”

  “North boys always were a bunch of wusses.”

  “You wish.”

  “One more thing,” Ezra said, sobering up. “If you ever hurt my sister again, I swear to God I’ll do more than a single punch.”

  “I know that. I’m smarter than I look.” He looked his friend in the eye, stood straighter. “I love her. I want to spend my days making her happy if she’ll have me. That, of course, remains to be seen.”

  With a grin, Ezra said, “That’s your problem. God knows that girl doesn’t listen to me.”

  “She knows what she wants, doesn’t she? I just hope she hasn’t given up on me.”

  “I guess we’ll see. You going to stay here tonight or what?”

  Drake shrugged. He’d left his bag down with the guy at the lobby desk, not knowing what was going to happen. “I’ll fly back tomorrow. Don’t ha
ve a ticket yet. This whole trip was spur-of-the-moment.”

  “The North Suite has clean sheets.”

  “My lucky day,” Drake said, smiling. “If it’s not too late for you, Grandpa Ezra, put some clothes on and I’ll take you out for a drink.”

  “Only if it’s top-shelf.” Ezra started toward the master bedroom but stopped as he hit the hallway and turned back. “If you want, before you leave tomorrow, we can hit the jewelry store. If you want some moral support.”

  “Damn straight I do.”

  As Ezra went into his bedroom and closed the door, Drake leaned his back against the pantry and breathed fully for the first time in several hours.

  Step one, done. Only thing left was to get Mackenzie on board.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sunday was not going according to plan at all for Mackenzie.

  Both legs of her flight home from LA had been delayed. She’d hoped to do a little follow-up work from the party last night—where she’d gotten two new leads—on the plane, but somehow her laptop had not charged overnight and it was down for the count. And now, there was a wreck on the interstate in Nashville, the one she was on, trying to get to Drake’s. Traffic was down to one lane and barely moving, but moving enough she couldn’t search for an early exit and an alternate route on her navigation system.

  With a glance in the visor mirror at herself, she verified that she really should head to her own place and freshen up before she went to plead her case to Drake, but that wasn’t going to happen. She’d been waiting too long to be able to talk to him, had too much time to think about what she would say and how she would persuade him to give them a chance at a pace that wouldn’t scare him away.

  He was going to get the travel-grungy, day-after-a-Hollywood-party, jet-lagged-once-again version of Mackenzie and either like that version enough to hear her out and say yes or…not.

  She didn’t want to think about if it was a not.

  By the time she hit her exit, she was pretty sure she’d aged significantly and had let in all kinds of new doubts about what she was going to say to Drake.

  What if he wasn’t home? She hadn’t texted, hadn’t wanted to give him any kind of heads-up, because she wasn’t sure he’d want to see her.

  Or worse, what if he had company? What if he’d already moved on and had gone out last night and met an irresistible floozy and they’d spent the day in bed and he was only just getting ready to kick her out at—she glanced at the dashboard clock—5:29 p.m.?

  “He’d kick her out before noon,” she said, shaking her head at herself, not feeling at all reassured by the truth of that statement.

  By the time she pulled into a visitor’s space at his building, her nerves were rioting. She pulled her brush out of her glove compartment and ran it through her hair, checked for any mascara smudges under her eyes and found none, and glossed her lips with a barely there light pink. “Good as it’s going to get,” she told her reflection.

  Without letting herself think any more, she launched out of the car and hurried inside. Before she could freak out further, she was at Drake’s door.

  She knocked and waited and fretted and went over the first thing she was going to say yet again, and then she realized it was taking too long for him to answer. There were no sounds from behind his door, but she knocked again anyway, thinking maybe he was asleep, knowing he didn’t take naps or slow down enough to sleep during the day.

  After the third knock, as she was strongly considering parking her tired butt on the carpeted hallway floor and waiting, she heard the ding of the elevator around the corner and could tell someone got out. Before she could decide what to do next, Drake came around the corner, saw her, and smiled.

  At her.

  That beautiful, charming, so familiar smile that she never wanted to be without. Behind it, she saw a moment of surprise on his part.

  “There’s nothing like coming home to find a beautiful girl at my door. Even if she did dump me and break my heart.”

  “I didn’t dump you,” she said, frowning. “You can’t officially dump someone if you’re not officially together.”

  He stopped right in front of her, close, close enough she caught a hint of his scent, and peered into her eyes, assessing. “What are you doing here, Mackenzie?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  She expected him to make a joke about the dreaded T word, but he merely unlocked his door and let her precede him inside.

  With her nerves stretched taut, she headed toward the kitchen, only giving the guest room, where they’d first been together, a passing glance, not wanting to think about how that night had ended. She knew Ezra still wasn’t on board with her and Drake being a couple, but she couldn’t let that bother her now. They could cross that bridge if and when they got to it.

  Drake came in behind her, flipping the kitchen lights on. “Drink?”

  Mackenzie shook her head.

  “Let’s sit.” He went into the living room and lowered himself to one end of the couch, sitting on the edge, not relaxing, and it was the first sign she’d seen that he wasn’t totally at ease.

  She followed him and chose to sit on the chair adjacent to the couch. Close but where she could face him. She swallowed hard as he waited expectantly.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I mean, yes and no. I’ve been thinking a lot this past week, ever since the Friday when I found my house. I… I screwed up, Drake.” She let out a self-conscious, nervous laugh sort of thing and was pretty sure she sounded like an idiot. “I said I couldn’t be with you because you aren’t a commitment kind of guy, but that wasn’t fair.”

  There was the slightest twitch of his brows, and she wasn’t sure how to interpret that, so she barreled on. “I like being with you.” Which was an understatement, but she was trying to keep love out of this for now. Because she didn’t think that was necessarily a selling point. “Jiva with you was magical, and sure, that place would be pretty incredible even if I was by myself, but the Drake factor made it extra and exponential, whether we were hanging out together while I worked or hiking to a waterfall or sitting on the beach.”

  “The Drake factor,” he repeated, obviously pleased and letting the phrase go to his head.

  “Stop it,” she said, trying not to grin, just wanting to get everything out. “I liked being with you even before the night we first slept together, when I was staying with you.”

  Drake sat back on the couch and seemed to relax, which was the opposite of what she’d expected.

  “My point is, I think I jumped the gun. Because I miss you,” she said.

  “Yeah?” His expression turned downright cocky, and annoyance jabbed at her. She was trying to pour her heart out to him and he was almost…smug?

  “Can you try not to let it inflate your ego for a minute?”

  He schooled his expression to something more serious and said, “Sorry. Go on.”

  She let out a breath, her irritation fading. “I understand why you have issues with committing. After everything you told me that night on the beach, I get it on an intellectual level. It’s just that, when it came to an emotional level and my emotions were involved, I was seeing it as black and white. Commit to me or get lost. And that was wrong.” Regret and fear and hope and all the emotions got globbed up in her throat and had her stopping to suck in a deep, steadying breath. “Because even if you can’t promise me more than right now, I want that. I want to be with you. We can do no strings for as long as you want, if you want, and we can see if we might have a future together eventually.”

  His eyes took on a sort of gleam, and she didn’t want to say it was mischievous, but…yeah. It was. Which was standard flirty Drake, she supposed, and part of why she loved him. And she wanted to tell him that, was bursting with the words and the emotions, but she held back, because she didn’t want to scare him away.

  “So what you’re saying is you’ll wait for me to get my head unfucked?” he said, one corne
r of his lips twitching upward in a self-deprecating grin.

  “Well…” She smiled back at him, because he was irresistible, damn him. “That sounds like pressure. Waiting for you. But yeah, I guess what I’m saying is if you aren’t up for committing right now, that’s fine. I just want to spend time together and see where it goes.”

  He just sat there, staring at her, with a strange, pensive half grin, and Mackenzie started to get a little concerned. Was he going to tell her she’d blown it and he’d moved on and he was fine without her?

  The tension inside her crept up when she’d thought it couldn’t go any higher. She moved even closer to the edge of the chair, on the verge of jumping up just to expend some nervous energy. “Just say it, Drake.”

  “Say what?”

  “Whatever’s putting that look on your face.”

  “What look is on my face?” he said, again going serious.

  “I don’t know…smug or amused or—”

  “Relieved as fuck? Happy? Surprised at my luck?”

  Still studying his face, Mackenzie scooted back in the chair, feeling lighter but still not sure she understood. It sounded like a good sign. “You’re going to have to elaborate on that.”

  Drake was nothing if not spontaneous.

  He slid to the edge of the couch again and reached for Mackenzie’s hand, his insides humming with so much relief and love and, well, downright terror.

  Here I go, he thought. Into the deep end. As he took in her pretty, familiar features, her chocolate-brown eyes that were deep and assessing and sparkling with both confusion and hope, he held back from kissing her the way he wanted to and instead dove in with a full-hearted, love-filled cannonball.

  If you were going to do it, might as well do it with fanfare.

  He held on to her hand with his left one as he went to the floor in front of her, kneeling on both knees, his abdomen bushing against her legs.