Page 41 of My Sweetest Agony

Which is part of the problem.

Everywhere I look in that house, I see him.

I feel him.

I remember his touch, his words, that playful grin that always danced across his lips. Every inch of that house is steeped in memories that are both comforting and agonizing in a way I didn’t know something intangible could be.

But Cam was right about what he said the other night.

Drew would be pissed about how I’ve been living since he died.

Not sleeping. Not eating. Not taking care of myself at all.

It’s almost like he sent Cam to ensure I would.

My gaze drifts up to meet his across the table, and he simply raises a brow in challenge. Almost like he wants me to attempt to get out of eating so he can force me to do it.

Something about the hard set of his shoulders and the tension in his stubbled jaw tells me he would do just that.

There’s still a very good chance he’s been avoiding me—despite having a legitimate reason for leaving the house before I come home every night. But he does care. Maybe in the only way he’s capable of.

I reach out and grab an untouched half of my sandwich, then take a tentative bite. The juicy, delicious meat and creamy cheese melt in my mouth, and a little groan slips out as I chew. Flavors dance across my tongue. So simple yet so fucking perfect.

Cam looks smug. “I told you. Max’s is the perfect food.”

Right now, I can’t argue with him.

God, this is good…

I finish chewing and swallow, staring down at the cheesesteak in my hand. “This is pretty good. My mom always preferred Dalessandro’s.”

Cam practically chokes on his next bite, his eyes going icy cold. “Stop that blasphemy in here.”

A grin pulls at my lips. “Wow, I didn’t realize those were fighting words.”

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “They are in the Usher house. My dad used to bring Drew and me here whenever he was home. He said it was the single best thing to eat in the entire city of Philadelphia.”

I chuckle, examining the sandwich in my hands and rolling the flavor over my tongue. “That’s a pretty bold statement.”

His lips quirk. “He was a pretty bold man.”

That matches what Drew always told me about their father.

I guess you have to be bold to be an Army Ranger. To go headlong into that kind of conflict and violence. To spend so much time away from your wife and children in order to protect freedom on a level I can’t even fathom.

“Is that why you still lived here instead of D.C. when he was stationed there?” I wiggle my sandwich. “Because he couldn’t give these up?”

Cam smirks. “Probably. Well, that and my mom told him she’d never leave Philly when they got married. He knew they’d have to spend a lot of time apart, but he wanted her to be somewhere she was comfortable and happy.” He shrugs. “So, she stayed here with us, and he would come home as often as he could.”

The hint of sadness in his voice matches the one I always heard in Drew’s when he spoke of their father. Losing him at such a young age profoundly affected him.

He lost his hero.

It had to be the same for Cam.

He plays with the edge of the sandwich paper spread on the table, his lips tilting slightly. “As soon as he got home, the first thing he would do is throw the two of us in the car and drive over here. We’d sit out on the curb and eat?—”

“Drew sat on a curb?”