by Juli Valenti
A thought came to her. She’d been spending time lately trying to figure out what she wanted to do – if she wanted to go to college or get a job, or what. Drew knew she didn’t want to just sit on her rump around Jensen’s house forever. They weren’t married, she wasn’t a mom, and she certainly wasn’t a live-in maid. It was working for now, but they both knew it would only be temporary. She had to do something with her life, and she wanted to be like her mom. Drew wanted to do good and, in that moment, she realized she wanted to do something with children. Before she’d thought a nurse … but what about a pediatric nurse? Perhaps there she could do some good, bring solace to parents, but also a little to herself. There she could get a lot of baby love, too.
Decided, she squeezed Stella in a hug before doing the same to Tommy. They didn’t know it, but they’d just helped plan her future.
“I think I’d like to go to the house,” Drew said after Jensen had gotten in the Jeep and started it.
“We are,” he answered her, obviously puzzled. She could tell, in his mind, that they were already going to ‘the house,’ his house, but that wasn’t what she meant. And she told him so.
“I need to see it, Jens. I need to see my brother … maybe get some of my things, some of my mom’s things, if they’re still there,” she pleaded, unsure why she felt she had to beg to go. Sure, she could always go by herself. He gave her unrestricted access to his Jeep while he was at work and she never had to ask permission to go somewhere. He never even asked she tell him she was going somewhere, though she usually did it anyway, knowing he’d worry otherwise. Still, for some reason it was important he go with her, that he be by her side as she faced the house that held so many horrors for her. It was important he be with her as she faced her brother, since it was painful every time she tried to talk to him and he blew her off.
Jensen didn’t hesitate. He didn’t argue that it was just shy of ten o’clock at night, or that he had to work in the morning. He didn’t try to reason with her or change her mind. Instead, he nodded and grasped her face, pulling her lips to his before starting the engine and pulling away from his partner’s home.
Drew was doing everything she could not to watch the trees pass as they drove, the lines marking their way in the streets. While she wanted to go to her childhood home, she was secretly terrified, and she held Jensen’s hand as firmly as she could without alerting him to her nerves. So much had happened there, good in the beginning but only bad toward the end. How would she feel seeing it again? Would she be nostalgic, missing the good memories? Or would she get lost in the bad, only to relive the nightmares once again?
Unfortunately she didn’t have the answers to any of her questions as he pulled up in front of the two-story Victorian-style home. The paint no longer seemed as bright as it once had, and all the flowers and pretty plants her mom had taken such good care of were gone. From inside the Jeep she could see her bedroom window, the wall around the glass panes blackened, along with the roof above it. A large blue tarp seemed to be nailed to the roofing tiles, probably to contain any damage the fire had caused. Drew guessed Dean hadn’t taken the time to get any of it fixed.
A shiny red BMW sat parked in the driveway, the soft black of the top a stark difference from the brilliant coat of paint. Was it Dean’s? Somehow she knew it was, though she hadn’t seen him driving it around.
Hands shaking, Drew reached for the door handle, but Jensen beat her to it, opening her door and extending his hand. She took it, grateful for his warmth as she momentarily debated the merits of chickening out. She’d seen it and that was a step in and of itself, wasn’t it? Surely she could wait to go inside another day.
Chapter Twelve
Jensen
Unmoving, he watched as Drew internally struggled. It was easy to see – her forehead was drawn, scrunched, as a ton of emotion flashed across her face while she stared at the home she used to live in. Jensen wanted to reach out, to touch her, to pull her to him and let her know it was okay to be afraid, and it would be okay to leave. They didn’t have to do any of this if she wasn’t ready. But he didn’t. He remained where he was, allowing her space, allowing her the time to make her own decision.
When Drew had asked to come here, Jensen hadn’t blinked. In truth, he’d been waiting for the request for a while. So many things had happened in the house for her – she’d lived and loved her mother there, lost her mother there, and then all the fucked-up shit with her father happened there as well. Memories are like lives of their own; they can be peaceful and full of love, or they can be a walking nightmare one can’t escape. For Drew, the house symbolized both, the good and the bad. Before she could truly move on, she would need to confront it all.
Jensen didn’t want to admit it, but as his eyes took in the brilliant paint of the flashy sports car, nerves of his own were taking root in his stomach. He didn’t have to ask to know it was Dean’s, and it amazed him slightly at the differences in the twins. Drew was down to Earth, but then, she’d been the one who went through hell and back to get there. Dean, on the other hand, was clearly spending the money left to him. God only knew what state the inside of the place was going to be. I doubt he’s been hiring a housekeeper … or cleaning himself.
A tug at his arm pulled his attention back to Drew, and she glanced up at him, fear rampant on her face. Jensen hated that look. He saw it so rarely anymore, and seeing it now made him want to wrap her into his arms and promise nothing would ever touch her that way again. But, again, he didn’t. Instead he nodded and let her walk them to the front door, steps moving slowly yet surely as they climbed the steps. She hesitated only a moment at the door, as if debating whether to knock or not, and in making her decision, she grasped the door handle and twisted.
Every light in the place seemed to be on, burning brightly as they stood in the entryway. Not much had changed since he’d been there last, rushing to ensure the fire got out before setting the entire place ablaze. Furniture still remained overturned where emergency personnel had pushed it in their hurry to save Drew and her piece-of-shit father. The smell of smoke overtook his senses, filling him, making the entire house seem like it was still on fire, though he knew it wasn’t. But where was Dean?
Drew moved robotically, correcting household items as she passed, a habit Jensen hadn’t realized she had. It made sense though – from what she’d told him of her father, he often came home intoxicated, breaking things as he stumbled inside. Drew had never done it in his home, but then, he wasn’t him. Thank fuck.
He followed her as she walked into the kitchen, her small hands grasping the wood of the dinner table until her knuckles turned white. Jensen wanted to know what she was thinking, what she was reliving and how he could make it better. Feeling helpless was newer to him, though something he’d accepted in his new life with Drew. Often there were things he had no control over, things he wished he did, and he had to learn to accept the fact. It wasn’t easy.
“Who the fuck are you, and why are you in my fucking house?” a booming voice yelled from behind them and Jensen turned, placing a hand on Drew’s shoulder to alert her. As she spun as well, Dean’s expression morphed, from anger to something else … something Jensen couldn’t explain.
“Drew,” he breathed, staring at her, his gaze moving from her to Jensen and back again. Eventually he dropped his gaze, examining the hardwood floor while the two of them watched.
Jensen said nothing, instead moving somewhat behind Drew. This was her show, her rodeo, and her worthless brother standing in front of them. The boy was clearly intoxicated, his eyes red and his clothes mussed, along with the reek of alcohol covering him. His hair had grown long, and the red that once was as bright as Drew’s had dulled, no longer vibrant. He wasn’t the all-American he’d been when Jensen met him, the football star with a bright future. No, looking at him, all he could picture was a younger, red-haired version of their father. It was a mental image that made Jensen uncomfortable.
Something must’ve tipped Dre
w off as well, because she made no move toward her twin brother. She’d been upset when Dean had abandoned her, taking the easy, chickenshit way out, stating it was too hard to be around her because of his own guilt. Still, Jensen had expected her to comfort the boy, to embrace him or try to make him feel better. She didn’t. Drew stood unmoving, something akin to pity in her gaze as she watched him.
Eventually she snapped her fingers and Dean looked up, his entire demeanor hesitant. Squaring her shoulders, Drew began signing slowly so Jensen could follow along.
“Hello, Dean. I like what you’ve done to the place … and to yourself.”
His eyebrows rose in ire. “Drew. What are you doing here? You don’t live here anymore, remember? I do … and what do you care what I’ve done to myself or this god-forsaken house.”
“You’re right, I don’t live here, but why are you so angry? You’re the one who didn’t want to be around me, remember? I just made it a little easier for you.”
Jensen could see she was getting more upset, her hands moving faster as she tried to contain herself. Unable to help himself, he reached out and pulled her back into him, letting her know without words that he was there, with her, and for her. She wasn’t alone.
Dean caught the gesture and his face contorted angrily before his hands flew. This time he spoke as well, spitting the words at Jensen, not realizing he’d been following their conversation to begin with.
“So the rumors I heard were true. You two?” He shook his head, his dirty hair swinging. “That is fucked up. Fucked. Up. Seriously, how old are you, dude? She’s my fucking sister.”
Jensen cleared his throat to answer, but Drew stopped him, holding up a hand before speaking aloud.
“It doesn’t matter, Dean. We don’t care what you think.”
Her twin brother closed his eyes as if in pain, and when he opened them, they were blazing with rage. There was no other term Jensen could have used to describe it. The boy was so angry, whether at them or himself, he wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t pretty. His cheeks tinted red, his hands fisting at his sides. Jensen squeezed Drew’s hip in warning – he’d seen people at the end of their ropes before, many times before something really bad happened. And, looking at Dean, he was a heartbeat away from the same.
“Our father was right,” the boy said quietly, the words ground through gritted teeth. “You are a fucking whore, Drew. Get out.”
Drew froze as if she’d been struck and Jensen moved forward, between the two of them. To ever agree with the man who’d all but broken her was nothing short of bullshit. It wasn’t even the words he’d said that bothered Jensen, but the way in which he’d said them. It was like they were a fact, a disgusting truth permeating the air around the three of them.
“You are the one who’s fucked up,” Jensen told Dean, ignoring Drew’s hand on his elbow to hold him back. He walked forward, invading the kid’s space. “You turned your back on the only person who ever truly loved you, for you. Nothing you ever did could’ve taken her away, except yourself. Unfortunately, some things can never be unheard and if you could, for even a second, get your head out of your ass or the bottle long enough, you would’ve known that. Come on, Drew.”
He’d signed the last to Drew, knowing she didn’t know what he’d said to her brother. She’d been standing behind him, which was his plan – his words had been for Dean only. She sighed loudly and accepted his hand, beginning to follow him out when her twin grabbed her other arm.
“The fuck you’re going with him, Drew. I say no.”
Jensen would’ve laughed at his audacity had the kid not sounded so serious. Turning, he found his grip so tight on Drew’s arm that her skin was mottling, changing colors, and it took everything he had not to rip him off her. He knew he needed to remain calm, to not do anything irrational, but it was tough.
“You’re not my brother anymore, Dean. My brother was a good man, honorable, who took care of me because he loved me, not because he was drunk and wanted control,” Drew said aloud, her words wobbling, the usual rhythm she worked so hard to maintain gone. Tears trailed her cheeks as she continued. “I miss the man you were, the man you were going to be. Take care, Dean. I hope you find some semblance of peace in your life.”
With the last of her piece spoken, she turned to leave, but Dean refused to let go of her arm. Instead he tugged, hard, pulling her off balance and away from Jensen. It all seemed to happen so fast, yet in slow motion.
Jensen watched as Drew almost toppled to the floor before righting herself, seconds before her brother’s free hand raised. Without warning, he punched her across the face, hard, and this time she did fall. Her small hand covered her mouth, coming away with blood, and he snapped.
Moving quicker than he ever thought possible, Jensen stepped between the two of them, where Dean’s fist was upraised for another strike. Unthinking, he balled his own, and decked him. The boy retaliated, throwing a punch at Jensen’s face, but he parried, Dean’s movements sluggish from the alcohol in his system. Jensen hit him again and again, before he felt Drew’s hands on him, pulling him away from her brother.
“You listen, and you listen good, Dean,” he growled, anger coloring his vision. “The next time you so much as sneeze in this girl’s direction, I will lock your ass up forever. No one will miss you, except for her, because the good memories she has of you may cloud her judgment.”
Jensen turned and caressed Drew’s face, desperately trying to get his temper under control. She flinched when his thumb grazed her lip, and he closed his eyes, mentally counting. That son of a bitch had no right to touch her, to hit her. He didn’t deserve any of the compassion clouding Drew’s eyes, the compassion that was keeping Jensen from beating the boy until he couldn’t stand anymore. He didn’t deserve anything.
“Drew,” Dean croaked from the floor and they turned to face him. “I’m so sorry.”
Jensen shook his head. “I don’t give a fuck how sorry you think you are. The two of you came from the same household, the same hell in your own right, yet you learned nothing. You are the same worthless fuck your father was, using your fists to think you have control. Well guess what? No one has control over Drew, except for herself.”
Shrugging off Drew’s hands containing him, he walked closer and knelt in front of Dean, his face inches from his. “And my hand to God, if I have to blow a fucking hole in you to ensure you never touch her again, so help me I’ll do it. She may hate me for it, but at least I’ll know I had some goddamn say in her safety.”
He stood and reached for Drew’s hand, which, surprisingly, she gave. Part of his heart warmed at that; she could have gone the other way, afraid of the anger she’d witnessed from Jensen, but she didn’t. God, he loved her. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to the uninjured side of her lip, ignoring the twinge of fury that arose when she flinched in pain. After he released her, he allowed Drew to lead him from the kitchen, away from her twin. Having one final thing to say, he glanced back to the huddling figure on the floor.
“Get the fuck out of Chance. I don’t give a damn where you go or what you do, but get the fuck out of my town.”
Drew remained quiet the entire way home, and now that they’d been sitting together for what seemed like forever, the silence was starting to drive Jensen crazy. It was taking everything he had to remain sitting, the lack of noise making him want to pace or beg for conversation, any conversation. Her vacant stare as she held the wash cloth he’d given her to her lip was hard for him to bear.
Finally unable to take it, he went to the room they shared, quickly stripping out of his nice clothes and throwing on a pair of sport shorts. Jensen pulled a pair of the soft pants he knew Drew liked to wear out of their dresser, along with a T-shirt. Breathing deeply, he sat down on the end of the bed for a moment, his fingers caressing the fabric in his hands.
It was a shame the night ended the way it had. They’d had such a good time, before and during dinner. Drew had been smiling nonstop, completely content with th
e world and all those in her life. It had been a beautiful feeling. And seeing her with little Glory? That image would forever be burned into his mind; she was going to be a great mom some day and he could only hope that one day it would be one of their own filling her arms. Sure, she was young and he wasn’t looking for a lifetime commitment, but he wanted one with her. Jensen knew not to push her, refused to push her, but when he pictured his future, that’s what he saw. He saw a life with Drew, children, and happiness.
For a little while, he’d wondered if she’d been thinking the same. Still, he didn’t want Drew to ever settle, to get roped into life as his wife and a mother. He wanted her to go to school, to find her way, to discover all that life had to offer – even if it meant her leaving Chance to find those adventures. He wanted that for her. But seeing the sadness, the pain in her eyes when her brother hit her, he wasn’t sure if she’d ever take the leap. Hell, he wasn’t sure what she was thinking at all.
If it were him, he would’ve been on the first bus out of town the second he had the opportunity. Jensen knew himself well enough to know that nothing would’ve kept him in the god-forsaken town that held so much pain for him. So why was she? His chest hurt and he rubbed at it, ignoring the bruises on his knuckles.