Drew takes another sip of coffee, then studies me over the rim of the mug.
“You know…” he says slowly, “I still can’t believe he brought you here.”
I blink. “What?”
He lowers the mug. “Sebastian. This house. You.”
There’s no accusation in his tone. Just disbelief. Almost awe.
“He’s always been… private,” Drew continues. “But this?” He gestures vaguely around the kitchen. “This is a whole new level.”
I lean back against the counter, curiosity replacing my easy calm. “Private how?”
Drew huffs a short laugh. “Okay. So. Story time.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, eyes going distant. “When we were kids, no one went into Sebastian’s bedroom. Ever.”
I frown slightly. “Like… parents’ rule?”
“No,” he says immediately. “His door was always locked. Even from me. Especially from me.”
That surprises me.
“When he wasn’t home,” Drew continues, “that door stayed shut. He’d know if someone went in. He could tell if things were moved.”
My stomach tightens, uncomfortably warm.
“As a teenager, it got worse,” Drew adds. “He’d reorganize everything before leaving. Like he needed the space to stay exactly how he left it.”
I think of Sebastian’s bed. The way he meticulously makes it every morning.
Drew shakes his head. “When he got his first apartment, I thought maybe he’d loosen up. You know, the freedom of adult life.” He lets out a humorless snort. “Nope. Even fewer people were allowed inside.”
“How few?” I ask quietly.
“Just me,” he says. “And Marcus. But definitely no women.”
That lands hard.
“No dates?” I ask.
“Plenty of dates,” Drew says. “He just… didn’t bring them home. He didn’t do sleepovers. No one stayed. Not even me.” He takes a drink of his coffee. “Not that I wanted to stay over. I was married.”
I absently nod. My mind flickers through images without permission.
Drew watches my face carefully. “So when you two came downstairs holding hands...” He exhales. “Yeah. That was new.”
I swallow. Something warm and fierce coils low in my chest.
Drew straightens, rolling his shoulders like he’s said more than he intended. “Anyway. I just figured you should know. In case you ever wonder where you stand.”
I meet his gaze. “I don’t wonder.”
He smiles faintly. “Good.”
A faint scraping sound comes from outside. We glance toward the window, but neither of us sees anything.
I look back at Drew.
He shrugs. “Probably Mrs. Kline’s landscaper. Or that kid who cuts through yards.”
