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Drake didn’t judge, just like he’d promised. Didn’t snap at me to get ahold of myself and act like a man like Mom would have done. He gave me freedom to grieve the life I’d lost when Dad had transitioned.
While Drake’s father Devlin seemed great and all, he would never replace the person who’d sat with me every night before I went to bed. There would be no sharing about my day, playing duets on the piano downstairs, or discussions of books we both enjoyed reading with Drake’s dad.
Because he wasn’t mine, nor would he ever replace my biological father.
Sure, I had a cell phone and was allowed to talk to Nancy, but it wasn’t the same as having him—her—be a part of my daily routine like she used to be, the only person I’d had to count on for acceptance and love.
Drake promised to take me to see Nancy whenever I wanted.
And his hugs were better than warm glazed donuts.
I could stay right there with my face smooshed against his hard chest, his heart beating calmly beneath my ear forever, but I didn’t want my new stepbrother thinking I was a total loser.
Sniffing, I pulled away, swiping my arm over my eyes. “S-Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He half-punched, half-squeezed my shoulder in some sort of bro action—affection, maybe? I didn’t have any close friends, so I wouldn’t know.
I liked it though. Loved how the feel of his hard body and warmth lingered along the front of me.
“Shit.” Drake stood, hands on his hips, and glanced around.
His bedroom was similar in size to mine but lacked in personal effects that would reveal his personality. The half-dozen boxes and a few trash bags to his left had been brought up by staff as we’d sat down to eat dinner.
“I’ll, um, leave you to g-get settled in,” I said, my voice cracking like usual. Growing up sucked, even more so since my hormones had started to kick in long after the other guys in middle school.
“Stay.”
I glanced up at Drake, his vivid blue eyes searching my face. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I swallowed, turning my focus to the hardwood floor in front of us. “Sure. I c-can help if you want?”
“Sweet. Just give me one minute.” He fished his cell from his back pocket, reminding me of Mom chiding him as though Drake was her real son.
I’d been embarrassed that she’d shown her true colors so quickly, but Drake did live in Jacqueline’s penthouse now. He would learn she was Napoleon in female clothing, and nothing we did would make her appreciate us.
A huffed laugh rumbled from his chest, and his fingers flew over the screen after he powered it on. “My best friend is an asshole.”
Even though Drake smiled while texting his friend, I could see sadness on his face.
“You miss him.”
“Fuck yeah.” Drake’s grin faded, and he shoved his phone away. He didn’t look at me but started for the pile of his belongings.
“New York isn’t so b-bad.” I offered what I hoped would be comfort. Not that my stuttered words would ever feel as good to him as his hug had to me.
“I can handle it for three years.” He tossed one of the two black trash bags toward the bureau against the far wall.
“You’ll go back after you graduate?” I picked up a smaller box, proud that I hadn’t stumbled over my words.
“Yeah. Boston is my home, you know?”
I didn’t but nodded all the same while sitting the box atop Drake’s bed. Evidence of his sporting accomplishments lay wrapped in old, frayed towels.
I glanced over at Drake. He stuffed clothing into drawers, not even bothering to fold the items first. Hopefully, Mom didn’t go through his stuff like she did mine to make sure I kept my belongings tidy.
“Where do you want these?” I asked, holding up an old trophy with a baseball player atop it.
Drake looked around the room, blanching a bit as his eyes drifted over the windows. “Uh…” He hopped up and fumbled with the blinds until they closed us in from the outside world.
I bit back a smile at finding Drake wasn’t completely perfect like I’d thought. He obviously didn’t like heights, same as me. But I’d only ever known living high above the rest of the world. He would get used to it eventually.
