The Fostered Promise (Spencer Brothers #3)

1. Drew

1

DREW

I restacked the coasters for what had to be the fifth time, each one aligning with the last with precise neatness. Avoiding River’s perceptive gaze was becoming a full-time job in itself.

Spoiler alert: having your boss as a friend is great when you’re dishing out the advice. Not so much when you’re on the receiving end.

I moved on to the precut fruit for the cocktails, inspecting each piece and ensuring they weren’t cut too big or too small.

“So, Drew,” River said, coming up to the bar as if he hadn’t been staring at me from afar for the last half-hour. “How are the preparations going for tomorrow’s fundraiser?”

The fundraiser for the Star Finders Foundation. The foundation I’d started with my best friend and foster brother, West. I remembered exactly when West had come out and said that kids in foster care deserved the same opportunities as all the kids with moms and dads. He would make sure it happened. It had been a big dream, but we’d done it together.

And now, our dream was no longer something we organized from the small kitchen in our apartment. We’d moved our headquarters to the old hospital building, where we were working to function as an emergency shelter and community center for kids in foster care, kids from less privileged backgrounds, and anyone who needed a little help.

I exhaled slowly, finally meeting his eyes. “Honestly? I’m freaking out a little.”

River’s brow furrowed with concern. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s just…” I paused, struggling to articulate the tangle of emotions. “The auction. Being up there on display like some piece of meat. What if no one bids? Or worse, what if someone does, and I have to go on some awkward date?”

River’s eyes widened. “I thought the auction was for skills. You’re doing cocktail classes, right?”

“Yeah, but…” I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “What if…?” I lowered my voice, leaning in. “What if West bids on me?”

Understanding dawned in River’s eyes. A few weeks ago, I’d unwittingly confessed to him how I felt about West. “Ah. And how would you feel about that?”

My heart raced at the mere thought. “Terrified. Elated. A jumbled mess of everything in between.” I ran a hand through my hair, mussing it further. “God, River, it’s getting harder and harder to pretend I don’t have anything but best-friend feelings for West.”

“You’re offering cocktail classes. How much trouble can you get into doing that?”

I raised a brow. “As much trouble as you can get into when your jilted best friend, and the man you have feelings for, moves into your place,” I said, referring to River’s best friend Adam, who he was totally in love with.

River raised his hands and chuckled softly. “Drew, have you considered that maybe West is struggling with similar feelings?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What? No way. He’s always so… No, he’s never given me any hints.”

“Have you ever given him any hints?”

He had a point. I’d hidden my attraction to West from the moment I felt anything but brotherly love, and as my feelings grew, I’d become better at avoiding them.

“Maybe this auction is an opportunity for both of you to be honest about what you want,” River suggested.

I mulled over his words, a glimmer of hope flickering to life. “You really think so?”

He reached across the bar, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever happens tomorrow, just be yourself. That’s more than enough.”

I managed a small smile, feeling some of the weight lift from my shoulders. “Thanks, River. I guess it’s my turn to put my money where my mouth is.”

“What do you mean?”

“You and Adam. I said I’d tell West how I feel about him if you did the same with Adam.”

River’s eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened.

I chuckled. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me, but the next time he comes here while you’re working, you might want to tell him to stop undressing you with his eyes.”

It was his turn to laugh. “I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself. Adam and I…we’re still figuring things out.”

“I got your back, man.”

As we fell into easier conversation, I found myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, this auction would be the push West and I needed to finally take that leap.

By the time I went home, I was starting to look forward to the big event tomorrow instead of dreading it.

I pushed open the front door, the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee inviting me in. Typical. West was in full-on preparation mode.

“I’m home!” I called out. No response. I kicked off my shoes and padded toward the living room, following the trail of papers strewn across the floor.

There he was. Weston Hart in all his glory. Surrounded by a sea of donor lists, to-do lists, and lists of to-do lists, his curly brown hair sticking up in all directions as he hunched over his laptop. I smiled. He looked like a mad scientist—if mad scientists wore faded Star Wars T-shirts and had biceps that could crush walnuts.

“Earth to West,” I said, waving a hand in front of his face. “The mothership is trying to make contact.”

He blinked, his hazel eyes finally focusing on me. “Drew! When did you get here?”

“Oh, about a decade ago. I’ve aged considerably waiting for you to notice me.”

West grinned, running a hand through his hair—a gesture that never failed to make my heart do a little flip. “Sorry, I got caught up in the numbers. Did you know if we hit our target for the fundraiser, we can hire enough staffing to get the center running at one hundred percent capacity six months earlier than we expected? And that’s my conservative estimate. I don’t even want to think about the donations Noah’s mother-in-law can help us get from her friends.”

Noah was Adam’s older brother and one of our original Foundation volunteers. He’d been giving up his weekend free time to play basketball with us and a group of teenagers we mentored. Thanks to him and his new husband Lior, we’d gotten the lease on the old Cliffborough hospital building and Noah and his brothers had the idea for the fundraiser.

I plopped next to West, careful not to disturb his meticulous chaos. “That’s amazing, West. Though I’m pretty sure you could auction off a used tissue and people would still throw money at you.”

He laughed, nudging my shoulder. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Carter. But seriously, this could be huge for the Foundation. We could expand our mentorship program. Maybe even start that summer camp we’ve been dreaming about.”

I watched him, marveling at the passion in his voice, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about helping kids. Moments like these made me fall for him all over again.

“Well,” I said, picking up a nearby piece of paper with scribbles I couldn’t make out, “if anyone can pull this off, it’s you. Just don’t forget to breathe, okay? I don’t want to find you passed out in a pile of spreadsheets tomorrow morning.”

West’s expression softened. “Thanks, Drew. I don’t know what I’d do without you keeping me sane through all this.”

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to say something I shouldn’t…not yet. Instead, I opted for, “Probably forget to eat and turn into a caffeine-powered auction robot.”

He chuckled, then glanced at his watch. “Speaking of eating, want to order in? I could use a break, and I haven’t seen you much lately.”

My heart did another of those annoying flips. “Chinese? I’m craving those dumplings from the new place that opened down the road.”

“Read my mind.” West grinned, reaching for his phone.

As he dialed, I found myself lost in thought, River’s words from earlier echoing in my head. But the fear that West didn’t feel the same way and would get grossed out by my advances had an iron grip around my chest.

As West placed our order, I studied his profile. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, the slight quirk of his lips as he recited our favorites—it all felt so achingly familiar. I wondered what it would be like to trace that jawline with my fingertips, to feel the stubble against my skin.

“Hellooo…” West’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You okay there? You looked a million miles away.”

I cleared my throat, hoping my face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Yeah, just…thinking about tomorrow. You know, the auction and all.”

His expression shifted, concern flooding his features. “Having second thoughts? It’s okay if you are, you know. We can always find someone else to?—”

“No, no,” I interrupted. “It’s not that. Well, not entirely.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I guess I’m just nervous about being on display. What if no one bids? Or worse, what if someone does, and I have to spend an evening making awkward small talk with a stranger?”

West’s eyes softened, and he moved closer, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down my spine. “Drew, you’re going to be great. People would be lucky to spend time with you. And if you’re really uncomfortable, we can always have a safeword or something. You say ‘pineapple,’ and I’ll swoop in with some made-up emergency.”

I laughed. “Pineapple? Really?”

“Hey, it’s memorable.” He grinned, squeezing my shoulder gently before letting go. I immediately missed the contact. “But seriously, Drew. You’re doing an amazing thing for the Foundation. These kids need us, and your contribution could make a real difference.”

I nodded, feeling a mix of warmth at his words and a lingering anxiety about the auction. “I know, I know. It’s for a good cause. I just…I guess I’m not used to putting myself out there like that, you know?”

West’s expression turned thoughtful. “I get it. But remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re in it together, like we’ve always been. And I’ll be right there if you need me.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and I leaned slightly closer to him. “Thanks, West.”

For a moment, the air between us felt charged, heavy with something I couldn’t name. West’s gaze lingered on mine, and I could have sworn I saw something flicker in his hazel eyes.

I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of how close we were sitting. “You know, it feels like ages since we’ve had a chance to just hang out, doesn’t it? Between the Foundation work and everything else…”

West nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve missed our movie nights and those ridiculous cooking experiments.”

“Hey, my squid ink pasta was a culinary masterpiece,” I protested, grinning despite myself.

“If by a masterpiece, you mean ‘crime against Italian cuisine,’ then sure,” West teased, his eyes crinkling with laughter.

I felt a familiar warmth bloom in my chest. This easy banter, the way West could always make me smile—it was one of the things I cherished most about our friendship. And yet, lately, I’d felt like I needed more.

“We should make time for that stuff again,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “You know, after the fundraiser madness dies down.”

West reached out, gently squeezing my arm. “Absolutely. How about we make it a regular thing? Weekly Drew and West time, no Foundation or work talk allowed.”

My heart did a little flip at the suggestion. “Yeah?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager. “I’d really like that.”

“It’s a date,” West said, then quickly added, “I mean, not a date-date, just a…brotherly quality time thing. You know what I mean.”

I laughed, even though I died a little inside because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d thought of West as a brother. When we were kids in foster care? Yeah, sure. But then we grew up, and I started popping boners whenever he was around. Hurrah for a sexual awakening when you’re sharing a room with other boys.

“I know what you mean, West. And it sounds perfect.”

As we stood there, smiling at each other like a couple of idiots, I felt like something shifted between us. It was subtle, barely perceptible, but it was there.

After dinner, I retreated to my room, my mind buzzing with emotions I couldn’t quite shake.

I stood by the window even though the only thing I could see in the dark was my own reflection. I replayed West’s words in my head. “ It’s a date .” God, why did those three little words have to send my heart into overdrive?

I knew he didn’t mean it like that. But part of me—a growing, insistent part—wished he had. I’d been dancing around my feelings for West for years now, trying to convince myself it was just a deep friendship. But who was I kidding? The way my stomach did backflips when he smiled at me, how I’d catch myself staring at his lips when he talked…this was way beyond buddy territory.

Suddenly restless, I walked over to our Jack-and-Jill bathroom. A hot shower was what I needed to relax.

As I stripped off my clothes and stepped under the warm spray, I let out a long sigh. The water cascaded over my shoulders, and I pressed my forehead against the cool tile, trying to clear my head.

But clarity wasn’t what I found. Instead, my mind conjured potential auction outcomes. Me on stage, looking for West in the crowd. His hand shooting up to place the winning bid on me.

Soap slid over my skin as I imagined walking down the stage to him, my eyes laser-focused on his beautiful smile.

“I didn’t know you wanted to learn how to make cocktails.”

“I don’t. Not when I have my own bartender at home,” he says, pulling me out of the large room toward a closed part of the Botanical Gardens.

“What are you doing?” I ask, even though I already know.

West opens the door to a supply closet and locks us inside. In the dark, my back hits the door. His warm breath on my skin makes me shiver. When his lips press onto mine, I gasp. This can’t be happening.

Hungry lips part mine, tasting and teasing.

My hand moved to my aching cock, and I lost myself to the sensation and the fantasy. I was in that dark closet, taking my fill of the man I’d admired from so close but also from afar for so long.

“West,” I gasped as the strokes over my hard length sped up. It didn’t take long for the need to build from my core, and I cried out, spilling my orgasm all over the shower door.

I opened my eyes and took a gasping breath. I needed to stop giving in.

The thought of ruining my friendship with West, of losing him completely, made my chest tighten painfully. I rinsed my hair, letting the water wash away the suds and some of the shame I felt for using him in my fantasy.

But as I stood there, surrounded by steam and the faint scent of my body wash, I couldn’t help but wonder, what if? What if West felt the same way? What if all those lingering looks and casual touches meant something more?

I shook my head, reaching for the towel.

As I dried off, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair stuck up in all directions, and my cheeks were flushed from the hot water. I looked exactly like what I was. A guy hopelessly crushing on his best friend.

Well, at least tomorrow’s auction would be a good distraction. Nothing like being paraded around like a piece of meat to take your mind off unrequited love, right?

With a final, resigned sigh, I headed back to my room. Whatever these feelings were, whatever they meant, they’d have to wait. We had a fundraiser to pull off, and I wasn’t about to let my messy emotions get in the way. West and the foundation we’d worked so hard to build from scratch deserved better.