Page 9

9

DREW

T he acrid smell of smoke clung to us as I helped West out of the car, his body trembling slightly against mine. Our eyes met for a fleeting moment before darting away, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between us.

“You okay?” I asked softly as we approached our building.

West nodded, his jaw clenched. “Just need to get inside.”

I fumbled with the keys, hyperaware of West’s proximity. His warm breath tickled my neck as I finally got the door open. We shuffled into the elevator, and I pressed the button for our floor.

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. I desperately wanted to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in my throat.

When we entered our apartment, West’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I need a shower. All I can smell is the smoke.”

“Of course,” I replied, guiding him toward his bedroom. “Do you need help with anything?”

He shook his head but didn’t pull away from my supportive arm around his waist. “I’ve got it from here. Thanks, Drew.”

I hovered uncertainly in the doorway as West disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water soon filled the air.

“I’ll make some coffee,” I called out. “And maybe some toast?”

“Sounds good,” West’s voice drifted back, muffled by the shower.

When I got to the kitchen, I held on to the sink and let the tension I’d been holding on to release. Tears ran unchecked down my face as the events of the night replayed on a loop—the panic when I’d seen the fire, the overwhelming relief when I saw West was okay. And underneath it all, the current of complicated feelings I’d been trying to ignore for far too long.

I shook my head and grabbed a towel to wipe my face. I hoped my eyes weren’t too red, but if West noticed anything I’d say it must be from the smoke.

West needed me right now—as a friend, nothing more. I’d push everything else aside and be there for him, just like always.

The familiar routine of making coffee steadied me. By the time the toast popped up, I felt more grounded. I arranged everything on a tray, taking a deep breath before returning to West’s room.

I pushed open West’s bedroom door with my hip, careful not to spill the coffee as I balanced the tray. The sight that greeted me made my heart clench. West was sprawled on his bed, eyes closed, looking utterly drained. The smell of soap clung to his damp skin, a stark contrast to the lingering scent of smoke in the air.

“Hey,” I said softly, setting the tray on the nightstand. “You awake?”

West’s eyes fluttered open, a weak smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, just resting my eyes.”

I adjusted the pillows behind his back, smoothing the wrinkles from his comforter. “Let’s get you comfortable,” I murmured, grabbing an extra blanket from the closet. “You must be freezing.”

As I draped the blanket over him, West caught my wrist. “Drew,” he said, his voice rough. “Thank you. For everything.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the warmth of his touch. “Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”

West’s grip tightened, his hazel eyes intense as they locked onto mine. “It’s more than that. I…I need to tell you something.”

My heart hammered. “What is it?”

“I’ve been… God, this is hard.” West took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry about my behavior with Patrick. I mean, Dr. McMartin. I guess…I’m a little jealous of the time you’re spending together. And scared that I’m losing you.”

My mind reeled, trying to process West’s words. Was this why he’d been acting so strange, working all the hours and avoiding me?

“West, I…” I began, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Patrick’s just a friend. You know that, right? There’s no way he could ever take your place.”

West’s eyes searched mine, hope and uncertainty warring in his gaze. “Really?” he asked softly.

I sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that our knees almost touched. “Really,” I assured him. “You’re my family, West. That’s never going to change.”

The room fell silent. The only sound was our breathing. The air felt thick, electric with possibility. I was acutely aware of how close we were, of the warmth radiating from West’s body. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him, to offer comfort or…something more.

I licked my suddenly dry lips. “West, I?—”

But the words stuck in my throat. What if I was misreading things? What if this ruined everything?

West’s eyes flicked to my lips, then back to my eyes. He swallowed hard. “Drew…can you stay with me a little longer?” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with vulnerability.

My heart skipped a beat. “Of course,” I murmured, unable to deny him anything in that moment. “Let me grab a quick shower, and I’ll be right back. You eat that toast and drink the coffee.”

“Yes, sir,” he joked.

When I returned, I carefully climbed onto the bed next to West. We lay facing each other, close but not quite touching. The tension between us was a living, breathing thing.

“Thanks,” West mumbled, his eyelids already drooping. The stress of last night’s events was clearly catching up to him.

I relaxed, drinking in the sight of him. His curls were mussed, his face soft with exhaustion. Before I knew it, my own eyes were closing.

When I woke, moonlight was streaming through the window. West’s face was inches from mine, so close I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. My arm had found its way around his waist.

I froze, not daring to move. West’s eyes fluttered open, meeting mine. For a long moment, we just stared at each other. Even in the moonlight, I could have counted his eyelashes, mapped every fleck of gold in his hazel eyes.

“Hi,” West murmured, making no move to pull away.

“Hi,” I echoed, my voice rough with sleep. “How’re you feeling?”

West’s lips quirked in a small smile. “Better. Thanks to you.”

We fell silent again, the air charged with unspoken words.

Finally, West spoke. “Remember that promise we made? Back when we were kids?”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Of course. That we’d always be there for each other, no matter what.”

“That we’d always be family,” West added softly.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “Yeah,” I agreed, my voice barely above a whisper. “Foster brothers for life.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I felt West tense against me, his muscles going rigid under my arm. His eyes flickered with an emotion I couldn’t quite place—disappointment? Frustration?—before he masked it with a tight smile.

“Right,” he said, his voice strained. “Foster brothers.”

I watched as he pulled away, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled curls. The loss of his warmth left me feeling hollow, adrift. My mind was reeling, trying to process West’s reaction. Had I said something wrong?

As West stood and stretched, coughing slightly due to his smoke-irritated lungs, I found myself at a crossroads. The words I’d been holding back for so long were right there on the tip of my tongue. I opened my mouth, ready to let them spill, but nothing came.

West glanced back at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m gonna…need to take a leak,” he said, already heading for the door.

I nodded mutely, watching him go. As the bathroom door clicked shut, I flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Shit,” I muttered to myself, rubbing my face with both hands. I’d screwed up somehow. But more than that, I’d missed my chance. Again.

The sound of running water filled the apartment, and with it came a sudden, crystal-clear realization. I couldn’t keep doing this—this dance of almost-confessions and near-misses. West had nearly died yesterday. Life was too short, too precious, to waste it on fear and hesitation.

I sat up, determination coursing through me. As soon as West came out of that bathroom, I would tell him. Everything. How I felt, how long I’d felt it, how terrified I was of losing him—not just to a fire, but to my own cowardice.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. One way or another, everything was about to change.