“Babe, I’m not like you and Sam.”
I was about to sputter out an indignant retort, then I saw the tension on his face, saw the remnants of bitterness that spoke of something he’d long since come to terms with, and knew what he meant.
Money.
It all boiled down to money.
My irritation, my exasperation, and the surge of energy that had dragged me out of the comfortable cocoon I’d been in as I lay between them splurged out of me with all the finesse of a whoopee cushion. My shoulders sagged and a strange kind of desperation whispered through me.
Brow puckering, I whispered, “Oh.”
His smile was tight, but he held out his hand and I linked my fingers in his, letting him pull me down so I was where I’d been a few moments earlier.
“Drew?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you...” I winced, cringing inside since I didn’t want to hurt his pride, but I couldn’t let this go on. Just couldn’t.
He blew out a breath. “Yes, Jessa. I’ll let you pay.”
I tensed a little, then it sagged out of me again and I half-slumped into his body. “You will?”
“Yeah. I will. I’ll be your sugar baby.”
His teasing gave me hope. “You will, huh? Better that than a sex slave, I guess.”
He snorted. “I’ll definitely be that. Feel free to tie me up any time you want.”
Laughing, I squawked, “Someone has definitely been watching too much porn.”
Our grins were relaxed, at ease, without the taint that was money somehow destroying the mood.
His head tipped forward, and when he pressed his lips to my nose, I about died inside. In the best possible way.
Biting my lip, I whispered, “I don’t want you to ever do without.”
“Life doesn’t work that way.”
“I love you, Drew. I love you,” I repeated, somehow needing to make this clear. Needing him to know that I did, that these feelings were so strong they overwhelmed me. “If I can’t give you what you need to give you a better life, then what’s the point of me having what I do? It’s only money.”
“You can say that because you have it,” he said wryly, and I was relieved he wasn’t pissed.
I was being completely honest, yet still felt like an elitist asshole, and I knew I wasn’t. Knew that wasn’t true because I didn’t think that way. I knew an elitist asshole—he was my grandfather. He had certain rigid beliefs that he refused to swerve away from, and he thought his shit was gold because he was a Rothskind. So, I knew I wasn’t that because I was nothing like him, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have an ‘easy come, easy go’ attitude to money in the sense that I had a lot of it and didn’t have the fears that a family like Drew’s had... And sheesh, that had been before I’d known I had a trust fund of my own.
“It’s truly only money, Drew,” I whispered. “I only have it because I have a shrewd family who knew how to make even more of it. My trust fund is gaining interest as we speak. I don’t even deserve it—”
Sam cleared his throat. “I didn’t know you had a trust fund.”
I blinked, then peering at him over my shoulder as I realized we hadn’t had an opportunity to discuss that phone call with my mom yesterday, said, “Me neither. Not until yesterday. Mom decided to tell me about it.”
He frowned. “Why?”
And that was something I didn’t want to discuss. Not now. Not if they thought what we were doing would put my trust fund at risk… Nothing about the beauty of us naked and in bed together could ever be considered ‘obscene,’ so, instead, I mumbled, “Mom’s a loose cannon. You know that.”
I could feel him thinking, questioning. Reasoning. Goddamn his analytical, future lawyer's mind.
Knowing I needed to change the subject, I blurted out, “Drew, that trust fund is mine and,” I carried on, voice soft, “what’s mine is yours.”
He shook his head again. “You can’t say that, Jessa.”
“I can,” I ground out. “It doesn’t mean anything to me. You do. Your quality of life means everything to me. Knowing that you didn’t go to the doctor last year with a broken nose about kills me, Drew. It fucking wrecks me.” My eyes stung with more tears, and though it made me feel like a pussy, I was where these guys were concerned.
One huge pussy.
“Hush,” he mumbled, his golden cheeks burnished rose gold with his embarrassment. “It was a simple break.”
“But it’s an example of—” I shook my head. “Would you have gone if it was a bad break?”
I knew I had him when his gaze slid from mine.
Sam sighed. “Jessa, I think we need to drop this.”
“No,” I ground out. “I won’t. If Drew needs something, then...” I swallowed. “I can get you a card or something. Something where you don’t have to ask me for it. I know you’ll only use it in an emergency, Drew. Know that you won’t take advantage of it. But I want you to know that whatever you need, you don’t have to fucking kill yourself working all hours at the supermarket just to get it.
“You’re a brilliant student, Drew. You work hard and you play hard on the field. We’ve barely seen you since school began because you’ve been working and studying all the damn time. But why? Why, when I can help you?” I frowned at him. “I know it’s a pride thing because you’re a guy, but doesn’t what we feel for each other transcend that?”
Sam murmured, “She has you there, Drew.”
There was silence as Drew raised his arm and used it to cover his face again. I wasn’t sure if he was accepting what I was saying or just rejecting it. I had a feeling he wanted to say yes, but couldn’t because of that aforementioned goddamn pride of his.
Blowing out a breath, I wriggled around so I was looking at Sam. Wanting to change the subject, to lighten things, I was about to raise the topic of the party tonight, when Drew rasped, “If I need it, I’ll ask you.”
“And when will you need it? When you’ve lost an arm?” I countered, knowing I needed to lock him down tight. “Or if you’re gushing blood and decide you can’t afford the co-pay and would prefer to stitch it at home?”
Drew snickered at that. “I’m not that bad, babe. Dad’s a firefighter, don’t forget. But there’s still a co-pay, you’re right, and there’s still the cost of meds. I just... this past couple of years, every cent has gone to my grandmother. I didn’t want to waste—”
“Waste? How dare you consider it a waste when it appertains to your health!” I shrieked.
“Oh fuck, you’ve done it now, Drew. She’s bringing out the big words.”
For a second, I felt sure that my head was going to explode, then Sam’s words, so calm and so amused, hit me, and before I knew it, I was giggling like a loon, and wagging my finger at them both at the same time.
They shot each other a look before they grinned and somehow, some-frickin’-how, I knew things would be okay.
Not perfect.
Not even great.
But okay.
I had Drew’s affirmation that he’d come to me if he needed me, and I had to have faith in that.
As well as faith in Sam, because I’d skin him alive if I found out he knew something about Drew avoiding the doctor again in an attempt to save money.
❖
Sam
Breakfast was a calm affair. After the tension in the bedroom upon awakening, I was surprised, to be honest. When Jessa was on her high horse about something, nothing would usually stop her. But today, she seemed to sense that she’d taken things far enough and had decided to move things back a step.
I was relieved.
I’d had the discussion with Drew many times before. By the sounds of it, and with news of her trust fund, I didn’t have Jessa’s money or the ability to get my hands on as much dough as she could, but fuck, if I could help the man I loved out, I would, without even having to think.
I’d do anything for him, as would Jessa, but the stubborn bastard wouldn’t let us.
&nbs
p; That being said, I knew he’d keep to his word. If he needed cash, he’d go to her, but need was relative, wasn’t it?
What Jessa thought he’d need and what Drew did were two entirely different things.
But she calmed down once she’d handled her meds—she kept emergency supplies here and at my place too—and, after, had headed downstairs where she’d instantly moved over to the fridge. She grabbed the loaf she’d bought midweek and began slotting it into the toaster.
I eyed the bread, eyed her, and watched as she set out some butter and jam, some ham and cheese too.
She had these European ideas about breakfast, things that were definitely un-American in my opinion.
Drew’s too, if his disgust was anything to go by as he muttered, “Still don’t know how you can have ham and cheese for breakfast like that.”
She shrugged. “Thank my mom and dad and three years in Berlin.”
He grunted. “It’s weird.”
It was, actually. I mean, I wasn’t the biggest fan of shit like biscuits and sausage gravy for breakfast, but that made sense to me. What didn’t was boiled York ham and Edam cheese on bread. No butter. Weird, right?
“You sure the Germans really eat that stuff?” I countered, watching as she blew on her fingers after withdrawing the scorching hot slices from the toaster.
“I’m sure.” Her lips twitched. “The Dutch do too. And the French. With croissants, but we don’t have any of those. Fresh baked. Yum. It’s not that weird,” she countered, rolling her eyes when we still didn’t look all that convinced.
“It is in Hawk Ridge,” Drew muttered. “I still can’t get over it and I’ve known you for two years.”
“That’s because we don’t always have breakfast together. You’ll get used to it in college.”
That statement had me gnawing on my bottom lip, and when she took a seat at the small table, I reached over and grabbed her hand. Bridging our fingers together, I murmured, “You want that?”
She tilted her head to the side and frowned at me. “Of course I do. What about last night made you think I didn’t?”
I blinked at her and, after licking my lips, murmured, “Fear of loss, I guess. Fear that it was a dream.”
“Some dream,” Drew retorted, reaching for the butter. “More like a wet one.”
Jessa’s nose crinkled. “Don’t spoil it. It was beautiful.”
His mouth curved into a grin. It wasn’t a cheesy one, wasn’t even amused. What it was, was contented. Satisfied. Like a Cheshire cat.
Jessa saw it, rolled her eyes again, and insisted, “We’re going to college together.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It is,” she retorted, squinting at Drew. “We’re all going to Berkeley together.” She dipped her chin. “I want more of this.”
“Me, too.” I squeezed her fingers. “I want everything you have to give, Jessa.”
I didn’t mean to sound so serious, so somber, but she understood. Just like she always did.
God, I loved her so fucking much. How she could read me as easily as one of her Byron or Shelley books made me feel like we spoke our own language sometimes.
“And I want everything you have to give as well.” She held out her hand for Drew to take it, and though he was biting his lip as he did so, he slotted his fingers in hers as she murmured, “Both of you.”
When a knock sounded at the door, none of us were surprised. Max. It made sense. He’d had to leave late last night because of his curfew, but things weren’t exactly resolved, were they?
Shit, so much stuff was up in the air after yesterday’s clusterfuck of a day that it was handy he was here.
I tightened my fingers about hers for a second, before I got to my feet and headed for the front door. Having the house to ourselves made it feel real. Like we were playing at being a throuple, and I liked it. I liked it too fucking much. It felt so easy, so natural, that I knew going home would be a son of a bitch.
My dad was lenient with me over the weekends. Especially when I had a game. He knew I usually bunked with Drew and wouldn’t complain if I didn’t come home until Sunday, but I’d have to return there.
Until we graduated.
Until we could get our own place, until we could be free to live in our own world, to lead our own lives, and head down the path of our own choosing.
I bit my lip as the exhilarating thought sent shards of adrenaline through me, then I sucked in a breath and reached for the door just as Max knocked again.
Opening it, his fist hovered in the air for a second as he stared at me. “Oh. You’re awake.”
My lips twitched. “Yeah. We’re eating. Come on in. Jessa’s made enough toast to feed an army.”
He blinked. “I’ve already eaten,” he said warily.
And because I knew what he wanted me to say, I stated, “Always food here for you.”
“Thanks,” he said gruffly, heading inside, his feet stomping down the corridor as he headed to the kitchen.
There were greetings from Drew and Jessa, and when I joined them all, Max had made two sandwiches and was leaning against the counter, eating one while holding the other in his hand.
Retaking my seat, I stared at him and almost shook my head—the guy ate more than me, and I ate as much as an elephant.
Jessa shot Max an approving look as she watched him eat, then asked, “Do you want eggs?”
Drew huffed. “How come we don’t get that option?”
Her lips twitched. “You do, now I’m more awake.”
“You could always have made them yourself,” I retorted, shooting him a narrow-eyed glance. “She isn’t your slave.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “If I wanted burned eggs, I’d make them myself. You know I can’t cook for shit.”
I pointed my knife at him. “Because Jessa enables you.”
She laughed and lowered my stabby-hand with hers. “Don’t worry about it. I like cooking for you guys.” There was a promise in her eyes, a promise I knew surrounded her desire to be with us like this, playing house, just like I needed.
Because I felt that desire just as much, I mumbled, “Said like an enabler.”
Her grin lit up her face as she ignored me to head to the fridge. On the way, she asked, “Max, how many?”
He cleared his throat. “Four?”
“Sure.” Then, in a softer tone, with her back to him, she asked, “Sure you don’t want six?”
He cleared his throat again. “If you don’t mind?”
“Just as easy to make six as it is four,” she said with a shrug.
“Okay, then. Six. Thank you.”
“No worries. Drew?”
“Six, please, Jessa. I’m starving,” Drew replied.
“Me too if there are enough eggs,” I called out.
She hummed. “I bought two dozen the other day.”
“We need to go to the store then,” I pointed out.
“As well as do some other things…” With the carton in hand, she turned around and asked Max, “We’re going to visit Drew’s grandmother today, and then we’re going to the party over on Crest Lake. You’re coming with, right?”
“Of course,” he murmured easily after he swallowed a bite of his sandwich.
Her smile told him that was the answer she wanted, and once again, I was left wondering what her feelings for him truly were. I’d seen her pick up a lot of strays, but she didn’t cook and feed them a half dozen eggs on a Saturday morning… Nor did she want them to be wherever we were.
Including a visit to Drew’s grandmother, who was ornery as hell.
A fact Jessa knew, even if she’d never met the old witch.
As I munched on a piece of toast I’d slathered with butter and jelly, I thought about what we needed to do, but Jessa, ever prompt, beat me to it. Her cell seemed to appear out of nowhere before she made a call.
“Hi, I’d like to make an appointment with Dr. Rojales for Andrew Cassidy, please. Sometime this week? It’s urgent.”
She placed the phone between her shoulder and ear, then began cracking eggs into a bowl as the receptionist evidently put her on hold. As she scrambled them, I shot Drew a look—he was grimacing.
“There’s nothing earlier than next Tuesday at eight AM?” she demanded, her polite tone turning churlish now. “Fine. We’ll take that one then. Thank you.”
I knew what she was thinking, knew it exactly, but for as much as Drew would let Jessa handle some of his problems, he wasn’t about to change doctors for her.
Even if that doctor misunderstood the term ‘urgent.’
“Is that too late for Coach, do you think?” I asked, questioning that rather than anything else in the potentially incendiary question.
“Probably, but it’s not like it’s on me, is it?” Drew replied with a shrug. “The appointment is made, and he’ll get his test results.”
I shot him a look, aware that his tone was strained. “You nervous?”
“Yeah,” he admitted on a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I fucked up. Bad. What if it messes with my heart?”
“How long have you been taking it?”
“Not long. Six months?”
“Six months?” Jessa squeaked, spinning around with the fork in her hand to gape at him. As egg dripped onto the tiled floor, she sputtered, “Six months?”
He winced. “Off and on. Not so much before as recently. Since school started, things have been hard. I needed it.”
Her jaw tensed. “Well, we have to figure out a way to ease things so you don’t.” She sucked down a breath like she was sucking down patience and hoping it would stick. Then, she saw the mess she’d made with the floor, but Max was there with a paper towel before she could do more than blink.
“It’s okay, Jessa,” he told her, scooping up the gunk.
When she nodded, the tension was clear on her face. There was nothing more I’d like than to do something to ease her stress, but how could I? There was nothing I could say that would make any of this better.
Time, that was what we needed.
Time.
We were quiet as Jessa cooked the eggs, and when she went off to shower after she dished up, I had a feeling she was going to cry under the spray. I thought about going to her, about helping her, but I knew her. She felt too much, and crying under the shower would probably ease some of her tension.
Dare You To Keep Me: HawkRidge High II Page 12
