What happened to his sister?
I look to Drew who’s just returning with his travel bag in hand.
Cutting to the chase, I tell Drew the news. “We can’t get a flight until tomorrow morning. Would you rather drive?”
Drew’s muscular jaw clenches as he processes my words. Simultaneously, he shakes his head and says, “No. I can’t wait. I need to get there.”
I knew he’d feel that way. If I were in his shoes, I don’t think I would’ve had the fortitude to even pack.
From the phone, I hear Coach B ask, “Does that mean you’ll drive?”
“I’ll drive,” I tell them. Drew’s shoulders relax a fraction, and I know I’ve made the right decision.
To his coach, I say, “I’ll let you know as I know more.”
“Please do. You can call or text to let me know you’ve made it? Please tell Drew not to worry about anything but being with his family. I’ll be in touch.” With that, he hangs up the phone.
When I reach out to hand Drew his phone, he shoves it in his pocket. “I just filled up my car last night. It’s more comfortable than yours for a long trip, so let’s take mine.”
Remembering how he filled up every square inch of my car, and how roomy his SUV was, I wholeheartedly agree. “Sure, no problem.”
“Can you do me one more favor?” Drew asks hesitantly.
“Anything.”
“I’m not in the right frame of mind for driving. Will you take the first leg of our trip? I’m too wound up to be on the road, I’d likely break about a thousand traffic laws getting to my parents.” He sucks in a deep breath, but his breath catches upon release. “I can’t fucking lose them.”
10
Drew
Ever since I got that fucking call, everything’s been a blur. Through it all, Abby’s been a rock at my side. I’d be in a fucking ball, bawling on the floor, if she hadn’t taken charge. She’s thought of everything, including making sure I grab some water bottles and snacks, so we wouldn’t have to stop for anything along the way.
I can’t fucking lose them, plays on a loop through my mind as Abby leads me through the motions of packing and getting on the road.
I can’t lose them.
I can’t.
Losing Summer was fucking tragic—and I was able to prepare myself the best I could before she lost her battle with cancer. But having both my parents here one day and not the next, rips me to shreds. Chills run up my spine, and all I can do is stare out the window in front of me.
As if she can sense I need more support, Abby reaches across the console and squeezes my thigh. “We’ll get there as soon as we can. Your parents are getting the help they need. If anything changes, we’d be notified.”
Feeling the warmth flow from her, my hand reflexively moves to hold hers in place. Her simple touch and confidence isn’t something I’m willing to let go of.
Fuck. She’s right. Get it together, Jacobs. They’ll be okay. They have to. Other than my mom’s sister, they’re the only family I have left. Fuck. I’m so not ready to lose them, too. They will survive this. They must.
Abby squeezes my thigh once more, and offers, “You can talk to me, Drew. I can only imagine what you’re feeling right now. But staying stuck in your head won’t help anything.”
Fuck. Where do I even begin? My mind’s racing like leaves blowing in a hurricane, and I can’t catch a hold of a thought long enough to voice it aloud.
I must take too long because Abby quietly assures me, “It’s okay.” She takes in a deep breath, then releases it slowly. “Just know that I’m here for you when you’re ready.”
Needing to get my mind on anything but my parents and their impending news, I force myself to ask the first question that sticks in my head, “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”
Though the sun has set, and the car is dark, from the dashboard lights, I see her eyebrows raise as her face darts to mine. “Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?”
“Humor me,” I urge. “I need a distraction.”
“Hmmmm… let’s see…” She tilts her head from side to side as if weighing her decision carefully. “Well… when I was little… I once went to church in my brother’s underwear. Does that count as crazy?”
It does the trick. A chuckle escapes, and I must know. “Why?”
She shakes her head. “My aunt was teaching me a lesson. I always went to her house to spend the night on the weekends, but I typically forgot some essential or another. You know… like a toothbrush, socks… or underwear.”
She pauses for a moment. So, I prompt, “Go on…”
I feel the hand that I’ve yet to release tense as her body squirms. “Well, I told her I couldn’t take a bath before church because I didn’t have any clean underwear.”
“Okay…” I know there must be more to this story, so I wait. And wait… for further explanation.
Finally, she gives in, “You see… I was eight years old. I hated washing my hair because I’d have to sit long enough to have it brushed. I thought if I didn’t have underwear, she wouldn’t torture me. It was the third time I’d come unprepared for church, and she wasn’t having it.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Years later, she told me she was sure I’d been lying about not having underwear. So when she threatened to make me wear Travis’s tighty-whities to church, she’d thought I’d run and grab mine. But nope. It was me in a fluffy dress—which I hated by the way because I was a tomboy through and through at that age—and a pair of tighty-whities.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” I offer. “No one knew but you and your aunt, right?”
“I wish,” she groans. “Prior to that day, I thought the worse offense I could do in church was fart or laugh inappropriately. Nope—wearing Travis’s undies and having him smile and wink through the entire service at me, made me feel as if I would burst into flames. To this day, underwear is the first thing I pack when traveling.”
A chuckle escapes, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of underwear she sports these days. “I can imagine. But I have plenty of boxers, should you need to borrow any.”
What the fuck? Why the hell did I just offer her my underwear? The last thing I need to be thinking about is what kind of underwear Abby has on.
“Thanks. I’m glad you’re willing to make such sacrifices.” She shakes her head. “Okay… your turn, buddy. Tell me the craziest thing you’ve done.”
“Well, it’s nothing that would cause me to go up in flames at church…” I attempt to tease. Why did I ask her this question?
What the hell have I done that’s crazy?
Ever since Summer died, I’ve had my nose to the grindstone to make something of my life. To live the life she never had. But when I see Abby raise an eyebrow in my direction, I know I need to respond. “I guess… I’d have to say… it was probably the time I helped pull a prank on DeShawn. Since we’re roommates, I know plenty of his habits. Before each game, he always loads his pockets with condoms as well as the essentials… like his phone, wallet, keys… ya know?”
“Oookay?” she draws out, clearly not seeing where I’m going with this.
“Well, after the game, he was finally going out on a date with a girl he really liked. While he was in the shower, I snuck over to his locker and saw his dress pants laid out. I took a pair of scissors and cut his pockets partially open. Not big enough so his wallet would fall out, but plenty big enough for condoms and other small things.
“Our other roommate Grey and I followed him. Ya know… to see if anything would happen. At first, we thought nothing exciting would ever come of it. But then the girl he was meeting drags him over to meet her parents, of all people.”
“No way!” Abby shakes her head, and I can’t help but laugh at the memory.
“Just as he reaches out to shake her father’s hand, a condom drops from his pants leg.”
Abby gasps, “You’re kidding me.” She shakes her head in disbelief and joins me in laughing a
t the memory.
“I can’t make this up—seriously. It fell… right there on the ground between them as he stepped back from their handshake. The poor girl’s dad just blinked and stared at the foil wrapper.”
“Ohmigod!” Abby gasps.
“But you haven’t heard the best part yet…”
A chuckle escapes from the memory, as Abby asks, “And what’s that?”
“Her mother didn’t miss a beat. She stepped forward to DeShawn, shook his hand, and states clear enough for us to hear from twenty feet away, ‘Thank heavens you’re not going to make me a grandma at such a young age. Like my husband, who’s an ex-SEAL, it’s good to see you’re always prepared.’”
“No way.” Abby shakes her head in disbelief. “Her dad was an ex-SEAL?”
“Apparently. The dude was as tall as me and fit. I would’ve pissed myself if I were DeShawn. That’s definitely an introduction that’ll go down in the books as ‘What not to do.’”
“How did DeShawn handle it?” Abby asks with genuine concern.
“Well…” Trying to remember his exact words, I rub my chin and look out the window. “I believe he said something along the lines of, ‘I have no idea where that condom came from, but since this is only our first date, I doubt we’ll be using it.’”
“Oh. My. God. He didn’t say that.” Abby’s jaw hangs as she waits for my response.
“Yep. He sure did. Everyone burst into laughter, including Grey and me. Of course, all DeShawn had to do was look at us and realize we were behind the condom fiasco. He’s yet to get even, but I’m sure it will only be a matter of time before he does.”
“Wow. Did you know he was going to meet her parents?”
“Nope. Not a clue. Fate just intervened.” I shake my head and relax into the car seat once again as I chortle at the memory.
After a short period of silence, Abby states quietly, “You have a great laugh.”
God. I’ve been laughing. And it feels good. Going with the assumption that no news is good news about my parents, it’s a relief to feel the tension lighten up. Apparently, Abby’s more of a distraction than I realized. “Thanks,” I whisper.
“How are you really doing?” Her voice is laced with genuine concern.
I’m about to lie and say I’m fine, but she interrupts with, “Seriously. You’ve hardly spoken since you got the news, and it’s not good to keep things bottled up.”
“Sorry about freaking out,” I say sheepishly. Fuck. Here I am wanting to be a doctor and at the first sight of bad news, I freak the fuck out. I shake my head, disappointed in myself.
“You were in shock, Drew. There’s nothing to apologize for. I would’ve probably started bawling, so you handled it way better than me.” She squeezes my thigh in assurance. And I pick up her hand to hold between mine.
“Yeah, but I probably could’ve handled it better,” I admit.
Abby side-eyes me with a grimace that levels me as she shakes her head. She can see through my shit from a mile away. I might as well tell her the real reason I freaked the fuck out.
I take a deep breath, and let it all out. “My sister died when I was sixteen. If I lose my parents, other than my aunt, I have no family left.”
Abby takes in a measured breath and slowly releases it. Her hand on the wheel tightens, as she squeezes my hand in reassurance. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” I’ve heard that phrase a million times, and it still reminds me of my numbness when Summer passed. Shaking my head to rid myself of the dark memories after her funeral, I realize I’d rather tell Abby what happened than make her ask what always follows that statement.
To keep my emotions at bay, I stick with the basic facts as I explain Summer’s death. “When Summer was eight years old, she was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s. By the time she was ten, she was in remission, and my family couldn’t have been happier. But it returned with a vengeance shortly after she turned twelve, and she didn’t survive.”
“Oh, Drew.” Abby’s voice sounds gravelly, as if she’s holding back her emotions. “That must’ve been so hard.”
My chest aches, and the muscle in my throat squeezes tight. I force myself to clear the lump in my throat before I can acknowledge her words and admit, “It was.”
We ride for a few miles in silence as I get lost in my head. Fuck. I still remember vividly when my parents sat me down to tell me the news that her cancer had returned. My heart aches at the memories of Summer going through her treatments. She was so small and weak at the end, but her personality was bigger than life.
Abby’s quiet for a few more moments, but when she breaks the silence, her voice is filled with compassion and interest. “Tell me about Summer.”
Where do I begin? “Summer was the type of girl whose personality would light up the room. No matter what was going on in her life, she always stayed positive.” A memory of her trying to hang out with me and my friends flashes through my mind, and I can’t help but share. “Sure, she was a pesky little sister and was annoying as any little sister can be. She wanted to be one of the big kids. When she was learning to ride a bike… gosh, she must’ve been four at the time, she insisted my dad take off her training wheels. She pointed her finger right at his face and said in the sassiest voice you can imagine, ‘I just like Drew. I don’t need training wheels. Drew doesn’t have training wheels, I ride with him.’”
“So, what did your dad do?”
I shake my head and left the memory. “He gave into her. She’d been riding a balance bike for a couple of days well on her own. It took her a couple of hours, but she was determined. The next thing I knew, she was screaming down the street, ‘Drew! Drew, look at me. I’m big like you.” I smile at the memory and notice Abby doing the same.
“She must’ve been excited,” Abby guesses.
“Yeah, it was an incredible day. She rode her bike everywhere. For weeks, she made me take her around the block as often as possible. My buddies liked to jump their bikes off ramps we had built, so I usually found a way to ditch her to go with them. One day, she followed me, and the next thing I knew, she was jumping off the ramps like a pro.”
“I’ll bet your mom was excited about that.”
“Nope. Can’t say she was.” I chuckle at the memory. “Mom just about had a heart attack when she saw Summer go off a two-foot ramp and fly through the air, landing it with grace.”
Abby cringes. “Holy crap. Your sister was four?”
A light laugh escapes at Abby’s reaction. “Yeah. Summer was as tough as nails. There was no stopping her once she got something in her mind.”
“Your poor mom.” Abby laughs and shakes her head in commiseration with my mom.
“That’s why it was so hard on my family when she got the diagnosis. She was a bad-ass through and through, and she wouldn’t let anything get her down. One day, while she was in remission, we were talking about our dreams and goals for the future. I told her I wanted to be a doctor and help little girls like her. She told me she wanted to be a scientist, so she could invent a cure for all cancers. She was wicked smart and if she’d survived, I’m sure she would’ve done just that.”
“Wow. Summer’s an inspiration.”
“I know.” I suck in a deep breath and prepare myself for what I have to say next. “Unfortunately, she caught a simple cold right after one of her first chemo treatments after being re-diagnosed. It caused an infection, and she never recovered.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine a loss like that.”
I sigh heavily. “It’s been hard, that’s for sure.”
“But you’re still following the dream you shared with her. That’s amazing. I can’t imagine how you manage your coursework and play basketball at a D1 school.”
“It’s not always easy, but I’ve managed.” I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am, but there’s no reason to go into that detail with Abby. She knows what it’s like to maintain the GPA that’s required for admissions.
&nbs
p; Abby keeps her attention focused on the road for a few minutes before she asks, “You’re really good at basketball. Have you ever considered the NBA?”
“When I was twelve, maybe,” I say a bit sarcastically. “I knew my parents were broke and had to find a way to get into college. I took the gift God gave me, and I made the most of it. I may be good, but I’m not good enough for the NBA. I’m focusing my time and energy on something I know I can do for myself, not a pipe dream.”
“Why would that be a pipe dream?”
“Um… roughly two percent of the NCAA, play ball professionally. I knew going in, the odds weren’t in my favor. But I was guaranteed an education, so I chose the school that gave me the highest chance of getting into the graduate school of my choice.”
“Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”
“The best part is when I finish, my only debt will be med school. Hopefully, I can score a scholarship, so the amount of debt I have will be even less. My parents help with what they can, but they didn’t qualify for loans, since they basically had to file for bankruptcy from Summer’s medical bills.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine going through that.”
Shit.
Is that pity I hear in her voice?
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I say more forceful than I intend. It may be harsh, but I don’t need her looking at me any different or think any less of me because of the hardships my family has gone through. We got through it, and that’s all that matters.
“I… I wasn’t,” she whispers, and she pulls her hand away to place it on the wheel. This simple act makes my heart sink, and my stomach turns to lead. I’ve fucking hurt her feelings.
Fuck. I didn’t mean to do that. She’s been nothing but kind to me. Hell, she even took charge in my fucked-up state and is driving me across the state to see my parents in a godforsaken hospital.
Great, Jacobs. Way to go.
Douche of the Year—goes to me.
Drew: Book One of the Perfectly Independent Series Page 8