Chapter 12
DRAKE
Drake felt gutted, adrift, attacked. He’d never seen such anger, such devastation in Steffi’s face.
Not when he opened her mail, not when he argued with her, not even when she was getting frustrated about the dancing lesson, and he’d called her foot a hoof.
She had been in a feral rage – and he could tell.
When he’d put his arms around her, trying to bring her down from the ledge, she had fought, scratched, pushed him away…
and it hurt. Not a physical pain, but an emotional one.
He felt raw seeing her aching like that, unwilling to accept his help – and then she revealed why.
She thought he would do something to get her evicted. She thought he was capable of doing something so low, so personal, so unsettling as removing the ground out from under her. When you took away someone’s home, their base, you removed any sense of stability – he knew.
After his dad had passed away, his mother was always fretting about losing the house. When he signed with the Timberwolves, the first thing he did was pay off the loan and set her up with an account to cover the taxes for a decade… and his mother had wept.
The Camry was just a thing, a car – but the feelings it gave him were more powerful than that embarrassed pride he’d felt taking care of his mom.
No, with Steffi, he wanted to beat on his chest, to handle all of her woes, because it made him feel good to provide.
It wasn’t about masculine toxicity but rather helping someone who meant the world to you… And things had been good until today.
Until Steffi lost her sense of stability in more ways than one. Her job. Her home… and he’d sold her car, telling her to keep his. No wonder she felt decimated.
The world wasn’t a forgiving place. Everything ran on money – and in order to have money, you had to work.
In order to work, you had to have a job, which meant transportation to get there.
It was a violent, vicious circle… a stool with three legs – and today, Steffi’s fell over, toppled, because someone yanked off all three legs, leaving her on the floor.
He cursed under his breath.
There was nothing he could say right now to make things better.
He’d recorded that message at her request because it was the least he could do for a friend who didn’t trust him, but anything else would look like motive.
If he offered her money, she’d suspect him of tampering with her job.
If he offered shelter, well, she already thought he’d gotten her evicted – but it would cement the idea in her head.
No, the entire debacle was a lose, lose, lose situation that he was trapped in – just like her.
Hearing a knock at the door, his head looked up expectantly as a wave of fear hit him.
If she was about to give him back his ring, then he’d cry.
Honestly, he was so devastated, so embarrassed, so horrified at her reaction today that he hadn’t reached out to anyone to talk or for comfort. Personal was just that – personal.
His teammates had asked a few questions – but Drake refused to answer them.
They thought he’d cheated on Steffi, that she caught him with a woman, that he’d committed some indelible sin to wrong her…
and looked at him differently. None of that was true, but it was ‘guilty until proven innocent’… which meant they needed time.
Drake heard the knock again, feeling his nose sting as his throat worked – but he couldn’t answer it right now.
Steffi needed time… and frankly, so did he.
He’d been a jerk several times in the past, so falling for her had never even been in the cards.
It wasn’t until he realized that they were kind of flirting with each other that her fire lit up his universe, that he wanted things to be different between them.
He wanted to be the one she turned to – but not because she was angry or felt like he’d betrayed her.
That kiss, those moments where they shared a smile, taunted each other, or flirted…
those were some of the best moments in his life.
The ones that weren’t planned fell into place with little effort, the moments where both of their souls just fit perfectly, recognized, and clicked.
He didn’t care about the car, the money, the dancing, or the tea…
he just wanted to spend time around her, basking in that sensation – and then he paused, cracking his knuckles nervously as he sat there anticipating her to knock again or do something as crazy as come over the fence, knocking on his back door.
She was losing her home next door – and he was losing what felt like where he belonged, seeing how she reacted.
That third knock never came.
Drake never got up to check – they both needed time to miss each other and to recognize if this was going to work or not.
“I sure hope it does…” he whispered painfully, still staring at the front door as he began popping his knuckles once more… waiting.
Drake was in a hotel near Wrigley Field, mourning so many losses. His team noticed he wasn’t in his groove, the reporters commented on him losing his ‘mojo’, and they lost the game. All of that paled in comparison to what he was dealing with on the inside.
Showering, he tried to pick himself up by singing at the top of his lungs – but that didn’t work.
Getting out of the shower, he texted his brothers and his mom, just a general thing – proof of life, as Pete would say, and then he got this weird look on his face.
His brother had nearly died, and that little comment was a brutal reminder of harsher moments from the past.
Chi-townnn…
And you lost.
Sheesh – tough crowd.
Y’all be sweet to each other – family is everything.
Mom, we’re just teasing Drake, and he knows it.
Do I? Do I really? Maybe I’m in the dumps because we lost…
Maybe we should add Steffi on here?
Ohhh, I like this idea!
You would, Mama…
Watch it, young man.
Yes ma’am…
*cough* whuuuped
*cough* mama’s boy…
Ha ha ha – funny (actually not funny)
Drake sighed and then exited the screen, ignoring the flurry of beeps where he was already positive he was the butt of some joke between the family – and texted Steffi.
Hey
And saw three dots appear almost immediately.
Hey yourself
Drawing in a deep breath, Drake immediately clicked the FaceTime request and saw her appear. She looked tired, had bags under her eyes, and was curled up in that recliner wearing that ratty flannel nightgown he hated – and said as much.
“I’m gonna burn that nightgown.”
“Why are you calling me when you’re naked?”
The lack of enthusiasm in her voice and the way her eyes glistened hit home – hard. He looked down, looked at the phone, and then gave a small, weak, scared laugh as he shrugged. Her wan smile was enough to cause a flicker of happiness in his soul.
“Wishful thinking on your part, maybe?” Drake teased softly, carefully. “I’m wearing a bath towel because I just got out of the shower, harassed my brothers a little bit, and then bailed on the conversation. What’s your excuse?”
“I’m sitting here, pouting, and trying to figure out how to apologize to my best friend,” she admitted softly – and his heart clenched in his chest. Her eyes were large, soulful, like she was some ethereal creature unsure if it was safe to emerge from her flower.
There was no safer place, he thought emotionally, and cleared his throat before speaking, keeping his voice even and not accusatory in the slightest.
“I thought you didn’t like me, that we were rivals, neighborhood enemies…”
“You’re annoying, cutesy with this dorky clown aura, and irritatingly wonderful in some weird psychotic way.”
“I’ll take it,” he said softly, giving her a wary smile, and felt his heart skip a beat as she smiled back.
“I don’t know why…”
“Because I think I like the idea of us much more than just being alone,” he admitted in a hushed voice, realizing what he was saying aloud in so many words. “I’m bored without my dance partner, and my stupid kettle misses you.”
“The kettle, huh?”
“Oh yeah,” he chuckled softly, feeling weirdly exposed yet confident enough to share his thoughts with her despite what happened. “You know that little neck-teapot-thingie…”
“The spout?” she interrupted, smiling.
“Yeah – the spout is sagging and looks awfully pathetic.”
“Interesting.”
“I think you should come over for tea when I get home tomorrow night,” he offered carefully. “We could have a cup, talk, maybe order pizza… and I’ll even let you step on my toes before the charity event.”
“That’s awfully tempting,” she whispered.
“Then give in,” he pressed, feeling the intense need for her to say ‘yes’. “I’ll even let you kiss me.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
They stared at each other, silent, unspoken messages that seemed to cross between them, and no words were needed… until he shivered. It was cold in the hotel room, and he was standing there in just a towel.
“Chilly?” she asked, smirking at him.
“Very,” he replied. “The room and the conversation. You’re awful at talking dirty to me.”
“I’m really good at hanging up…”
“I bet you are,” he grinned – and winked at her, drawing out a faint laugh. “Tomorrow night – tea, dinner, amazing company, heady kisses, and heck – you could just bring over a few things because we’re getting married and I could show you where your spot in the closet is.”
Boom
There it was.
“You seem pretty confident,” she whispered hoarsely – and he heard the fearful crack in her voice. He felt it.
“I am,” he replied tenderly. “That’s what marriage is supposed to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Putting up with someone’s crap because they make a little part of you happier than you ever expected – and I don’t know how you put up with me, so I’m guessing that little part might be medium-sized… or extreme psychosis. Who knows?”
They shared a fragile smile as she held up two fingers pinched together. He did the same – except made them a little wider, lifting an eyebrow as if to dare her to say otherwise.
And then she parted her fingers a little more – and he saw it.
“That ring sure looks good on your finger.”
“I never take it off.”
“Good. Tomorrow night – six p.m. – I’ll come get you so we can bring over two boxes of your things instead of just one.”
“Sounds like a date,” she whispered, and he melted. Gosh, what was it about this girl that made his soul purr like a kitten?
“Get some sleep and no more worries. You are not alone, and we’re gonna figure everything out together, one step at a time,” he promised and saw the flicker of something in her eyes. “Let me in and trust me – that’s the first step, Steffi.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
They said their goodbyes again – and he sighed, before flipping back over to the text messages that had finally gone silent with his family.
Add Steffi to the group this weekend. She’s been under a lot of stress - and she’s moving in.
Drake – you better marry that girl before she moves in with you. None of my babies are living in sin, young man – and I am not too old to tan your backside…
He chuckled, smiling softly at his mom’s sweet old-fashioned heart. She wanted the best for all of them and believed marriage could fix a great many things.
That’s the plan, Mama… I promise!