13. Drew
DREW
I pass the same quiet, small-town streets with manicured lawns and historic houses as I drive back to Sebastian’s house.
It should be routine.
But today, it’s not.
My fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel as I stop at a red light.
I replay the coffee shop conversation.
The way Violet looked at me.
The way she listened. Really listened.
Most people wait for their turn to talk. But not her.
She makes me feel like I’m worth paying attention to.
I exhale slowly, shifting in my seat.
Get it together. It was coffee. That’s it.
By the time I pull into the driveway, I’ve almost convinced myself of that. Almost.
I sit on the couch and grab my laptop, determined to be productive.
The first thing I do is check my emails. There’s a spreadsheet attached to one of them.
I open it with a sense of contentment. This is where I thrive. Numbers don’t change unless you make them.
They don't surprise you.
They don't look at you the way Violet does.
I don't think anyone ever has.
I stare at the screen.
Why am I still thinking about this?
I grit my teeth, trying to focus.
But the intrusive thought slips in anyway. Because she’s not like anyone you’ve met.
It’s accurate, annoying… and true.
I force myself to refocus, pulling up a client file. My eyes zero in on the numbers. Checking over the data.
It’s something real. Something I can connect to. Something I can control.
But even as I start working, my attention drifts back to her.
Her voice echoes inside my ears. “You think before you speak. You know what you want.”
My fingers pause over the keyboard. I frown slightly. That one sticks.
Most people don’t pick up on that. Hell, most people don’t care enough to try.
But she said it so easily. Like she already knew.
A slow, uneasy feeling settles in my chest.
Something about her is… off.
I think about lying in bed last night. That feeling again… like someone was watching me.
I stayed there for a few minutes, then got up to check my door. Mr. Pickles has gotten it open before. But this time, it was fully latched.
I checked under my bed. Inside the closet.
Nothing.
Then I looked out the window.
No one was there.
For just a moment, I imagined Violet standing there, watching me through the glass.
And I didn’t hate it.
I blow out a long breath, then shake my head. What is wrong with me?
I open up a new browser tab.
Maybe it’s not a stalker gene.
What if it’s a stalker magnet?
I sigh, my fingers resting on the keyboard.
Maybe it’s a kink I didn’t know I had.
Maybe I want to be watched. To have someone obsess over me, wanting me.
No. Not just anyone.
Violet’s face flashes through my mind.
Jesus.
I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots.
Get it together.
I look out the window, staring at nothing.
Why do I feel like she already knows me?
I shake my head and head for the refrigerator.
Get some water. Reset. You’re overthinking this.
I fill a glass and take a long drink.
Something tugs at the edge of my memory.
Her face.
Her voice.
Like I’ve met her before.
I stare down at the water.
Like I should remember her.
I would remember someone like Violet. Wouldn’t I?
I straighten, setting the glass in the sink.
“It’s nothing,” I mutter.
But I don’t believe myself.
For the first time in a long time, something feels out of place.
And instead of walking away from it… I’m leaning into it.
I should have said no when Sebastian asked me to go with him.
That thought hits about thirty seconds into the run as my feet pound the pavement. Or rather… the sidewalk.
Sebastian, meanwhile, looks like he’s out for a casual stroll.
“Your pace is… aggressive,” I manage, my breathing uneven.
He glances over at me, completely unaffected. “This is just the warm-up.”
“The warm-up,” I parrot, even as my lungs seize in protest.
A warm-up for him, obviously. For me… I’m halfway to dying.
“I don’t… run,” comes out of me through a series of gasps and pauses.
“I know.”
“Then why… am I…here?” I huff.
He shrugs. “You said you were feeling off. Couldn’t concentrate.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “So your solution is attempted manslaughter?”
A faint smirk pulls at his lips. “You’re still alive.”
“That’s debatable,” I huff out.
We round the corner, and I swear my body is trying to shut down. My legs feel like they belong to someone else. Possibly someone elderly.
Sebastian slows slightly, glancing over at me again. “You’re breathing like you’re being hunted.”
“I might be,” I mutter. “Feels like it.”
“You’re not screaming. So that rules out being hunted.” He smiles, his breathing and pace steady.
Is the asshole even sweating?
Meanwhile, I’m drenched like I just climbed out of a sauna.
I suck in another lungful of air. “Are you sweating?” I rasp out.
He smirks at me. “Not yet.”
I hate him even more.
We fall into a rhythm—if you can call it that.
He runs. I survive.
By the time we turn down a quieter stretch of road, I’m one bad decision away from lying down on the pavement and accepting my fate.
“You could’ve warned me,” I say between breaths.
“I did,” he replies.
“When?”
“When I asked you to join me.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “You agreed to come.”
That feels like a technicality.
“I didn’t know you planned to take out your only brother,” I wheeze.
There’s a blur of movement that pulls my eyes away from him.
Out of nowhere, something launches from behind a tree.
I scream like a masked man with a knife is standing in front of me.
“Jesus—!” I yell, stumbling back, my heart slamming into my ribs.
Ivy stands in front of us, laughing her ass off.
While I try to remember how to live.
“Oh my God, your face—” she manages between breaths.
I press a hand to my chest, finally gasping out the words, “You’re trying… to kill me.”
Sebastian doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he steps forward like this is completely normal, wraps an arm around her waist, and lifts her off the ground.
She grins, hooking her arms around his neck like she belongs there. Which—obviously—she does.
And then he kisses her.
Well… more like devours her. Like I’m not standing two feet away, actively reconsidering my life choices.
I turn away.
“Nope,” I mutter. “Absolutely not.”
“Drew—” Sebastian starts, breaking the kiss with Ivy.
“I’m going to walk it off,” I cut in, already heading in the other direction. “And by ‘it,’ I mean the heart attack your wife just gave me.”
I hear Ivy laughing again behind me.
I don’t turn around.
The air feels cooler as I aimlessly walk. The sweat has long dried on my skin.
I’m not sure what time it is. Only that I’m enjoying being outside, having no destination. No schedule. Just… freedom.
It’s quiet, with only the birds chirping and the thud of my shoes against the sidewalk.
Day bleeds into dusk. Quiet houses and empty streets the further I go. I don’t know why it makes me nostalgic.
Maybe it’s everything moving forward while I still feel… stuck.
My heart slowly settles back into a normal rhythm, though my pulse still hums faintly in my ears.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling. Seeing Ivy and Sebastian like that... sometimes it hurts.
They make it look easy.
That’s the part that sticks with me.
Not the chaos. Or the near-death experience.
But the way my brother didn’t even hesitate when he saw her.
The way she just… fits. Like she was always meant to be there.
The way they’ve grown together, but the core of who they are still remains.
I sigh.
Maybe seeing them—happy, carefree, and completely themselves—is what makes it sting.
Not because I’m not happy for them. I am.
It just… highlights everything I don’t have.
Although I’m younger, I was the first to get married. But it didn’t last.
And looking back, I realize why Julia and I didn’t work. And why Sebastian and Ivy do.
Julia was always trying to change me. She was never satisfied with who I was. Like there was always something to fix.
I shove my hands into my pockets, continuing down the street.
That’s messed me up more than I let on.
I’ve gotten used to being on my own. I usually prefer it.
I huff out a quiet breath. No one jumping out from behind trees trying to end your life.
But the truth is, I’m also lonely.
I have a fear that I’ll never find someone who accepts me for me. Or maybe even shows me things I don’t know about myself. Like Ivy did with Sebastian.
I glance up... and slow.
A house just ahead catches my eye.
I blink, taking in the small ranch house sitting back from the road. Trees surround the outer edge of the overgrown property.
As I get closer, I see the sign planted near the edge of the yard
For Rent
555-228-9782
I should keep walking.
But I don’t.
The yard is neglected, swallowed by long grass and overgrown shrubs.
It’s the kind of place that wouldn’t take much to make it look nice. Homey.
Violet would like this place. The thought comes, unbidden.
It’s ridiculous. I had coffee with her once. I shouldn't be imagining her standing on the porch.
Focus.
My attention is back on the house. I visualize what it would look like if someone devoted their time and attention to it.
Birds chirp from the trees and roof, even as the house itself sits dark and shuttered, like it’s waiting for the right person.
Someone to care for it. Someone who notices what others overlook and chooses it anyway.
I shift my weight slightly, glancing at the darkened windows.
For a second, something in my chest tightens.
That same strange feeling hits, like I’m not alone.
Then it’s gone.
Stop it. You’re overreacting.
It’s just a house.
Yet, there’s something about it that draws me to it.
I pull my phone out and, before I overthink it, I snap a quick picture of the sign.
I look at the picture, making sure I clearly captured the phone number. Just in case.
I slide my phone back into my pocket and force myself to move again, returning the way I came.
As I walk, my mind drifts back to Sebastian and Ivy. The way they look at each other. Like nothing else in this world exists.
I exhale slowly.
That’s not something you just… stumble into.
The ranch house intrudes again, filling my thoughts.
I could fix it up. Maybe get a cat.
I frown slightly. Or a dog.
Something low maintenance. Something that doesn’t—
I shake my head once, but the thought refuses to go away.
Something that doesn’t make you feel like you’re intruding on someone else’s life.
Later that night, I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the picture on my phone.
Oh, what the hell.
I open my browser and search.
It doesn’t take long to find the listing.
There are a couple of photos of the outside, and several of the inside.
The yard looks slightly better in them but still needs work.
I scroll through slowly, studying the living room. Kitchen. Master bedroom. Bathroom. Another bedroom.
It needs some love and care, but everything looks fixable.
I click back to the main page, my gaze landing on the contact number.
I look at the time. It’s too late to call.
“Tomorrow,” I mutter.
I set my phone aside and lie back on the bed.
The ceiling stares back at me, quiet and familiar.
For the first time, it doesn’t feel like home.