Changing Forever (26 page)

“No.”

“Are we going out for dinner?”

“No, did you eat dinner?”

“Yes. Are you taking me to the mall?”

That earns her a sideways glance. “Do I look like the type of guy who likes to hang out at the mall?”

“No.”

“You should just give up. I don’t think you’ll guess it.”

She stares at me, eyes narrowed. “We’re not leaving the state, are we?”

I laugh, pulling into a parking space. “Hell no. I’d never get you home by ten then.”

She finally notices we’ve come to a stop and searches the quiet parking lot. “Okay, Drake, you’re scaring me a little bit here.”

Brushing my fingers against her cheek, I say, “Sit tight.”

I open my door and run to her side, eager to unveil the surprise I was able to line up on my way to practice this afternoon. She climbs out of the car, placing her hand in mine. I lead the way to the sidewalk, giving us a view of the city lights again. When we came to the club last weekend, I noticed the sign advertising horse drawn carriage rides from now until Christmas. It’s kind of cheesy, but I thought it would be a good way for the two of us to talk without life’s distractions getting in the way.

A horse and carriage is stopped along the side of the street with a sign that says Drake & Emery. Squeezing her hand tighter, I walk us toward it, watching out of the corner of my eye for her reaction.

“Did you plan this?” she asks, her eyes wide.

I rub the back of my neck, careful not to let her see too much of my softer side. If I show it to her too much, she’ll come to expect it, and I don’t know how much of it I have in me. “There was never a party. Not one we were going to go to anyway.”

When we’re standing next to the carriage, the driver climbs down and holds his hand out to help Emery up. I’m next, but I manage without his help. When we’re settled into our seats, he hands us a black and red flannel blanket, which I use to cover our legs. Last,
the driver pulls out the two scalding hot cocoas I requested. I thought it would be a nice touch, a way to keep us both warm on a frigid November night.

“You didn’t strike me as the type of guy who likes carriage rides,” she says, pulling the blanket higher.

“I don’t know if I am or not. This is my first time.”

She lifts the paper cup to her lips, taking tiny sips. “Mine too.”

The streets are relatively quiet as we begin our stroll around downtown Iowa City. The cool air pricks my cheeks, but the rest of my body is warm, pressed against Emery’s under the blanket.

The late fall night is as clear as it is cold, giving us a perfect view to the stars. I spend my time glancing between them, the bright, colorful lights that line the street, and people who walk along the sidewalks.

I steal glances at Emery just as often. She looks more relaxed than she has the past few days, and it puts a smile on my face. “What’s going through that head of yours?” I ask, entwining my fingers with hers.

“How amazing this is. Thank you,” she whispers, pressing her lips to my cheek.

Before she gets too far away, I grab her chin in my fingers. “I think this deserves more than a kiss on the cheek.”

She smiles, tucking her lower lip between her teeth. “So you did all this for a kiss?”

I grin, kissing both corners of her mouth. “No, we both know this isn’t necessary for that. I did this so we could get away from it all, and just be us. So far, I like us.”

“Me too,” she whispers.

“Just do me a favor, okay?”

“What’s that?”

Moving my lips close to her ear, I whisper, “Don’t tell the guys about this. They’ll probably make me take a few extra sacks to man me up.”

“You’re all man. Don’t worry about that.”

I pull her earlobe between my teeth before kissing the warm skin below her ear. “Will you let me prove it tonight?”

“Every night. You know I will.”

The rest of the ride is filled with stolen kisses and stories of playing in the snow as kids. Being with Emery is effortless. I’m not trying to be someone I’m not, or anyone who someone else wants me to be.

T
HANKSGIVING
D
AY
. It’s the first one I’ve spent away from my dad. The fifteenth one I’ve spent apart from my mom. It’s probably dumb to think of it that way, but that’s how I’ve told time since she left.

This is, however, the first Thanksgiving I get to spend with Drake, and I’m already hoping it’s not the last. There was a life before Drake, and I’m living in the after … it’s by far the best.

The funny part is, we’re having Hungry Man frozen dinners on our first holiday together. Not anything Martha Stewart would approve of, but we have to work with what we got.

“I picked up dessert,” I say as we finish off the last compartment in our cardboard dinner trays. Not long after we started hanging out, I noticed we both like to eat one food off our plates at a time. I don’t know what his excuse is, but I hate when two flavors mix.

“Oreos?” he asks, lifting his brow.

“No, it’s a little fancier than that.”

“Pie?”

I reach behind me and pull out the container of pumpkin bars with cream cheese frosting. My favorite. “I could probably make them better, but I didn’t have access to a kitchen.”

He smiles, leaning in to kiss my lips. “They look good, but I can’t wait to taste yours.”

“Maybe someday.”

My phone vibrates on the table, and my dad’s name pops up. “I better take this. I don’t want him to worry.”

Drake nods, turning his attention back to the last of his uneaten food.

“Hello,” I say, tracing some of the scratches on the top of the old card table we set up for today.

“Hey, baby, how’s Thanksgiving going with your friend?”

“It’s good. Just about ready to eat some dessert.”

I’d told my daddy I was going home with one of my friends. He wouldn’t like it if I told him I stayed here eating frozen dinners with a guy.

“What are y’all having? I just ate some pumpkin pie that I bought at the diner. They treated me pretty good there this year,” he says, sounding tired and full.

I look up at Drake who seems lost in a world of cream cheese frosting. “We were just getting ready to have pumpkin pie, too.”

I hear him laughing on the other side of the line. “You could never go without your pumpkin. Where did you say you were again?”

I hesitate. I hate lying, and I suck at it. “Carrington with my roommate, Kate.”

“Oh yeah, I haven’t been to Carrington in forever. Nice place from what I can remember.”

I rub my fingertips around my temples, hoping to chase away the building headache. “Yeah, it’s great so far.”

“Well, baby, I’m going to let you get back at it. Oh, and by the way, Clay says hi. He was at the diner with his parents this morning.”

“Okay, Daddy, tell Clay I say hi if you see him again. I’ll see you at Christmas.”

“Talk to you soon.”

“Bye.”

Setting my phone back down, I scrub my face with my hands. I’m an adult now so what my daddy knows and thinks shouldn’t mean that much to me, but it does. I don’t want to disappoint him like my mom did.

When I look up, I notice Drake’s not sitting in the chair across from me anymore. He’s perched against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. “You told your dad you were in Carrington with Kate?”

My eyes widen. “Yes, I told him I went home with Kate for Thanksgiving. He’d hate the idea of me being here by myself.”

He rests the back of his head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “Why couldn’t you just tell him you’re here with me?”

Resting my elbows on the table, I tangle my fingers in my hair. “It’s just easier this way. He worries about me too much.”

He comes forward, placing his hands on the edge of the table. “Are you afraid your dad won’t like me?”

I shake my head, begging him with my eyes to drop it. “No, I just didn’t want to explain how long we’ve been together. Where we met. What your family does for a living. He never stops.” I pause, waiting for his eyes to soften. “I’ll talk to him when I go home for Christmas break.”

“Who is Clay?” he asks, standing up straight again.

I press my fingers to my temples again, working hard just to answer the question—honestly, but carefully enough to not cause any more dents. “My high school boyfriend.”

He nods, inhaling a deep breath. When I say that I can see right through Drake, I mean I can read his emotions, but I don’t always know what’s behind them. Like now, he’s pushing away anger, but I can’t tell if it’s because I didn’t tell my dad about him or the mention of Clay’s name.

It’s hard to explain what Clay and I had exactly. We were great friends. We became lovers, and in the end, we decided we made better friends. There wasn’t enough between us for me to stay with him and attempt a long-term relationship, and sadly, I think part of me was holding onto him because my dad liked him so much.

“I should have been honest with him,” I whisper, watching his features soften even more.

He walks to me, cupping my face in his calloused hands. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I don’t want to fight with you either,” I say, leaning into his touch.

“I just never feel like I’m good enough. Not for my family. Not for football, and definitely not for you.”

I kiss the palm of his hand. “You’re good to me, Drake. That’s all that matters.”

Tilting my head back, he presses his lips to mine. He treads carefully, nibbling my lower lip first before pulling my upper lip between his. When I’m fully expecting him to deepen it, he breaks contact, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’m going to work on me. I’m going to try and see what you see.”

I’d never really admit it out loud, but I like the raw feeling I have inside after an argument. I’ve spent most of my nineteen years going through the motions, locking things deep within. Letting them out makes me lighter, like it’s some magical overnight diet for a struggling soul.

And I want to feel less of that struggle. I want him to know how much he means to me … how much I trust him.

There’s something I’ve never talked to anyone about. Something that’s been eating me up, and I think Drake might be the only person who understands. “Remember when I said I saw my mom one time after she left?”

He nods, moving back enough to look into my eyes.

“It was my thirteenth birthday. I’d gone outside to get some fresh
air, and a car slowly drove past me. I was scared at first, thinking it was a creeper, but when I saw it was her … it hurt me so much. It was every painful moment I’ve ever been through w
rapped up in one.”

“What did she say?” He takes my hands in his as he kneels in front of me.

Tilting my head up, I try to keep my tears at bay. “She drove off without saying a single word.” It’s all I can say. Anything more and I won’t be able to control my emotions. There’s so much pain I’ve kept locked inside for years. It sucks holding it all in, but letting it go scares me even more.

Drake shakes his head, squeezing my hands in his. “Why would she do that?”

Closing my eyes, I think back to when I asked Dad about it a while back … after so much time spent holding it all in. “My dad knew she was in town, and when she asked if she could see me, he told her only if she planned on staying.” I pause, trying to gain enough strength to continue. It hurts … so much. “She didn’t plan on sticking around so he told her it would be better if she kept her distance. He saw first-hand what it did to me when she left the first time, and didn’t want to watch it again. Anyway, I don’t think she meant for me to see her that day, but I did … and I haven’t seen her since.”

Before I even realize what’s happening, I’m off the chair, lifted up in strong arms. It’s the comfort I never had when I really needed it, and as I wrap my arms tightly around his neck, resting my cheek against his chest, the tears start to flow.

How can there be this much hurt after all this time?

“Let it out, Em. I promise you’ll feel better after you do,” Drake whispers, brushing his lips against my forehead.

For the first time in fifteen years, I let everything I felt the day mom left come to the surface. I let myself drown for far too long, and now it’s even harder to catch my breath.

I have a lot of work to do.

“What she did … it had nothing to do with you. There’s nothing you could have done to change her. You’re a beautiful person, inside and out; she’s missing out, not you.”

I grip the front of his t-shirt, fighting to believe his words. God, I want to, but when you’re left like that as a little girl, it’s hard to tell yourself that it’s not because of you.

“Why did she drive by without saying anything? I mean … Dad asked her
not to but after she saw me …”

His arms tighten around me. “Maybe she wasn’t sure it was you.”

Pinching my eyes closed, I say, “My dad had that same truck when I was four. He couldn’t afford anything else.”

“Fuck, Em, I’m so sorry. When my mom fell into her depression, I never questioned why. I only questioned why she didn’t come back. Maybe when we’re older, it will make sense.” He runs his fingers along my spine before gently combing them through my hair.