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“Basically. You’re more than welcome to visit. With notice, though. Max needs to rest comfortably, and you’re hovering. I’ll let you know what the guys find out about whatever it is they think they found.”
“Fine,” she exhales, defeated. “Aubrey,” she calls me back as I walk out of the kitchen to head upstairs.
“Huh?” I answer, wishing I didn’t have to engage in any other conversation with her. This one took just about everything I had in me away. I need to save my patience for Max’s recovery if he’s going to have one.
“I do love you, you know. There’s a lot you don’t know, and one day I’ll fill you in. Just know that I’m your mother and I love you. You’re a part of me. We might not get along all the time, but that doesn’t take away how much I care for you.”
“Okay.” I acknowledge her statement, consider turning and running for a hug, but instead I bolt up the stairs. My mother’s always been concerned about appearances and less about emotion. In twenty-one years, I can’t remember a single time she’s expressed any kind of love like she just did. It could be because the idea of mortality is staring us in the face again, or she wants to put on a show, or maybe she truly means it; unfortunately, it’s going to take some digging to find out, and I can’t do that while I’m under her thumb.
*****
“Just like that? She’s letting us leave?” Max asks as I throw the few belongings he brought over from his place into a suitcase when our mum all but kidnapped him.
“Bro, you’re closing in on thirty in a few years. She can’t keep you here.” I laugh and continue packing.
“Still … you know her. If she doesn’t get her way, she turns a little nutty. She’s not even been up here to pull a guilt trip or anything. Did you break her?” While he’s talking, he’s pulling on his socks and shoes, and tossing the few things I found under the bed in his suitcase.
“I might have, but let’s start questioning what’s going on when we’re on the way to your place, okay? She might have a change of heart, and God forbid you break her heart.”
“You guys about ready?” Drew asks, stepping into the room. I swear the guy just shows up. Nobody ever hears a doorbell ring or his footsteps approaching. One second he’s not there, then the next, boom, there he is.
“Yep. My suitcase is on the bed in my room if you want to grab it for me, please,” I ask, finishing off in Max’s room and helping him grab a jacket.
“It’s all zipped up, right? I don’t want to run across anything I shouldn’t see.” Drew waggles his eyebrows, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Actually, I should go check. I have a double-sided dildo I was saving for Emma when she finally came to visit. Wouldn’t want you seeing that, now, would I?” I tease. Drew’s face contorts, and Max howls with laughter—a laugh I’ve not heard in so long—but it’s so welcome, I want to keep hearing it.
“You know, there are plenty of other women you could have mentioned. Why my sister? Why put that image in my head?”
“Because your sister has ass for days, Drew.”
“Oh my God, I’m going to pass out,” Max sputters. I glance back at him to give a sly wink. He has tears streaming down his face, and he’s clutching his stomach. This might be the best thing I’ve ever seen. Ever.
“Can we get on the road, please?”
“Hold your horses, Drew. I was just getting ready to tell
you all the dirty things I was going to do with your sister. First, I was thinking about…”
“No!” Drew cuts me off, and my smile widens. “We’re not talking about Emma for at least a week. I’m grabbing your suitcase, and I swear, if a dildo pops out, I’m putting it on your mother’s bed with a note about how disturbed her daughter is.”
“You can if you want, but she already knows. And you never know, my mum’s always been into younger guys. She might get a kick out of you leaving a sex toy on her bed,” Max adds to the roast session.
“I can’t win with either of you. There should be a warning sign before you enter this house. ‘CAUTION: The Rosewood siblings are absolute wankers and can’t be trusted.’”
Drew doesn’t wait for either of us to respond before he hauls ass to my room for the suitcase and heads down the stairs. Laughing with Max, I grab his suitcase, and he assures me he doesn’t need any help. I stay by his side, just in case, as he slowly descends the staircase. Together, we get into Drew’s car—me in the front and Max in the back so he can stretch out.
As the car pulls further away from the neighbourhood we all grew up in, it’s a strange feeling. Australia was home to me for so long, but I never really explored. I spent time at the University with my dad and went to restaurants in the city, but that was the extent of my travels. A nervous excitement settles over me as I realise the fear I had when I got into town about not ever seeing Max in his natural habitat—his apartment, on his own—is no longer a fear. I peek in the backseat to tell him how happy I am to get to see his place, but he’s already asleep. The meds the doctors have him on really do a number on the amount of time he’s actually awake. I know it’s for the best, to keep him out of pain. I’ll just have to remember to cherish the moments, like the one from earlier in his bedroom. They might come few and far between as his illness progresses.
When I turn back around, Drew’s watching the road, but periodically, I notice him looking down at my bare legs. Has he never seen a girl in a skirt before? Geeze.
“Can I help you?” I ask the next time I see his gaze drift to my knees.
“What?” he chokes out, pulling his eyes back to the road.
“You keep looking at my legs. Did I miss a spot shaving or something?” I ask sarcastically. I’d say one of the best things about spending your teenage years in a big city like New York, you learn a lot about the opposite sex: how to deal with catcalling and owning your body. I wear the clothes I wear because I’m comfortable in them, even if some people think they’re a little too risqué for everyday attire. And even with the looming crush I harbored for Drew as a kid, I love that I can be blunt and honest and even call him out on his creeper stare.
“I didn’t realise I was doing it. I’m sorry.”
