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“Call me any time you need a sitter, especially if he is funding it,” she winks before waving to Drew. “Thank you!” she calls, rushing towards the front door and shutting it behind her quietly.
“Do I even want to ask how much you gave her?” I ask, heading over to the cabinet I keep my drinks in.
“Twice what you were going to,” he answers, shrugs off his jacket and places it near mine. “Me and the guys decided that if you have to pay for childcare whilst accompanying us, we will cover the cost. I figured if I paid her well, she would be more likely to agree to do it more often,” he says, smiling as I turn my attention back to the drinks I’m pouring.
“It’s your money,” I chuckle, turning around to find him rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. Why is it a simple thing like that is enough to cause my pussy to throb? There is something about seeing a man rolling up his shirt sleeves, which hits the spot nearly every time.
I swallow the lump in my throat and walk over to the sofa. I sit down on one side as Drew sits on the other. It’s not a large sofa; there is no need for it to be with only me and Luna here, but that means there isn’t much room between Drew and me now.
I pass him his glass and hold up my own.
“To a new contract for your blooming business,” I grin as Drew clinks his glass against mine.
“Cheers,” he replies before taking a sip of the whiskey. “Damn, that’s nice. What is it?”
“Macallan’s,” I reply, taking a sip of my own. “It’s even smoother on the rocks, but I don’t have any ice, sorry,” I add, watching Drew swirl the liquor around his glass and smell it again.
“I need to get Houdini some of this; he would love it.”
“Does that man get excited about anything?” I ask, only partially joking. Drew laughs, nodding his head.
“Whiskey, computers and explosives, I think that’s about it.” With the mention of the explosives, Drew's smile drops slightly again before he forces it back on his face.
“When were you diagnosed with PTSD?” I ask, watching his face change, expressing his shock.
“Is it that obvious?” he asks, his head tipping to one side as I shake mine. “Then how did you know?”
I take a sip of my drink to hide the deep breath I take to compose myself.
“Let’s just say I recognise the signs and know how they feel.” I don’t look directly at him, but I can feel Drew's eyes watching me carefully. Because I don’t want tonight to be about me, I don’t give him time to ask questions.
“If you ever want to talk, I want you to know I am a good listener. I’m also amazing at giving advice, but not so great following it myself.”
I hear Drew chuckle and allow myself to look at him.
“Who is good at taking their own advice? I know I’m not.” Drew looks into his glass and lets out a deep sigh.
“My last mission was a complete failure. We were sent to rescue an orphanage from a terrorist group. The kids had already lost their parents and grandparents in the fighting; they didn’t need to lose their lives as well.” Drew takes a deep breath as his hands start to shake again. I place a hand on his bouncing thigh, which instantly calms under my touch.
“The children were all dead. They had been tortured before we even got there. There was no need for the bastards to have done it, no fucking need at all.” Drew lifts his glass and downs the rest of his drink.
“Something in me snapped that day, and I had a full mental breakdown. I don’t remember much. Pippin had already been discharged after the explosion; Houdini was on the mission with me and was the one who kept me alive. They say I calmly lifted my handgun and held it to my head. I don’t remember doing it. Houdini managed to move the gun enough so the bullet only skimmed me.” He runs his finger over the back of his head where the hair is shorter, and a small scar shines through a long, thin, bold patch.
“My first memory after walking into the orphanage is Pippin walking into my suite at the hospital. It was like something clicked in my mind and told me I was safe. I’m told until that moment, I hadn’t shown any emotion. My body and mind had shut down, and I was just on autopilot. But when Pip walked in, my mind clicked back in, and I broke down. I’m not ashamed to admit I cried like a child, and Pippin held me whilst I did.
“Pippin was already living here then but stayed for two weeks. He came to every therapy session with me and let me talk and cry to him whenever I needed to. Even when he returned, he would phone the hospital and listen in to sessions with me until I told him I was okay to do them on my own.” Drew looks up at me and forces a smile.
“When the psych board said they didn’t think I would ever be able to return to the team, I didn’t feel the dread I thought I would. I felt relief. I knew I couldn’t do it anymore; I knew I would end up back in hospital. But I was also terrified because being a SEAL was all I ever wanted to do.
“But once again, Pippin came to the rescue and, on one of his trips to visit me, he explained his plans for over here. I jumped at the chance to join him. So here I am, working alongside the two men who saved my life and are my brothers in every sense of the word.”
Drew reaches over and wipes the tear from my cheek as I lean into his touch.
“I’m okay now. I still have episodes like tonight, but the guys are amazing and understand when I need to take a mental health break.” He smiles at me again before running his knuckles down my cheek as he moves his hands away from my face. “I’m a good listener too if you ever need to talk,” he adds. I nod as he takes my hand. For a moment, I look down and let myself relax. I like him holding my hand. He’d done it a few times tonight before we took our seats at the restaurant, and it had felt real and natural. I guess the same can be said about when he would do little things like place an arm on the back of my chair or ask my opinion on something as if it mattered. He made me feel like I mattered tonight, even though it was a business meeting, and I was just meant to be the arm candy.
“I know what happened between you and Pippin.”
I look into Drew’s eyes as he smiles, reaching out and cupping my cheek again.
