Surviving Love (16 page)

“Has he told you…about his family?” Connie asks.
 

“I’ve met them working at the bar. They seem like a pretty nice group of people. Darcie and Delilah were here putting groceries in the fridge.”
 

“Yes, you wouldn’t think it by looking at them or even hearing them speak to one another, however, they are an extraordinary family. But I was referring to Mia’s mother. Has Drake talked to you about her?” I am thrown completely off guard. He’s mentioned nothing about his family. Actually, he rarely talks to me about anything. I can’t really recall having a conversation that has been more than a handful of words. I look back to Connie and shake my head no. “Well…I don’t expect him to speak so freely about that.” She takes a deep breath and rolls to her side, losing her battle with tiredness. “That boy’s been through a lot. More than any young person should have to ever live through.” As she speaks, Aunt Connie’s eyes close and she falls to sleep almost as soon as the last word has left her mouth.
 

I sit back in the chair and stare at the TV, not really watching it at all. I think about what my aunt has just shared with me. When I first arrived, Gavin told me there was an incident in Drake’s life, something that changed him. Now, Connie talks about Mia’s mother and Drake having a rough life. It peaks my curiosity so much so that I move from my chair and pull my laptop from my bag.
 

Drake
 

“Daddy! Uncie Jake told me not to say douchie bag anymore,” Mia shouts as she comes barreling toward me. I scoop her up in my arms and kiss her on the cheek. “Uncie Jake says d-bag is okay, Daddy?”
 

I turn my glare to Jake, who has just come into the room. Our relationship has improved since I’ve attacked him. We have yet to discuss it and I don’t think we ever will. He knows
where all my anger stems from. Although I have a better handle on my rage lately, I can honestly say that I have no idea how I will react when the day comes for Jeremy to be released. I still hold a lot of discontent toward my brother, and I’m not sure when or if it will ever leave.
 

“Don’t give me that look. Axl knows not to say douche bag anymore. I helped her find a proper way of talking about people she doesn’t like,” Jake states as he moves closer to us. “Right, Axl?”
 

“Right, Uncie Jake,” Mia agrees, and I deem this conversation a lost cause. When will he ever understand what is appropriate to say around a very impressionable two-year-old? Her newly formed vocabularies are on repeat and speak back.
 

“Mia, Uncle Jake needs to remember how much you like to repeat what he says,” I say to her as she turns to look at me.
 

“But, I wuv Uncie Jake.” Mia looks over to Jake and his face lights up with joy. My little girl has a way of making my brothers and me melt like putty in her hands. All she needs to do is look at us, and we turn into puddles of goo.
 

When Jake snatches Mia out of my arms and twirls her around the room, she giggles with delight as he spins her around. When he stops, she sits up in his arms and smiles. “Uncie Jake loves you, too, Axl.” Jake kisses her cheek then gives her a toss in the air, making her erupt in laughter.
 

It’s moments like this that fill my life with purpose. I was in a very dark place after Presley died, and in those tender moments, I struggled with my own reason to live, but when I thought of my daughter and the life I’d be missing out on, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let my little girl grow up without me. Seeing her laugh now, proves I’ve made the right choice.
 

Chapter 15
 

Drake
 

Halloween has come and gone as we begin the start of November. Life has shifted for me greatly since I found out Mrs. Fields is sick. Initially, it was hard to know someone I love isn’t going to be around anymore and dealing with death again has been a major trigger for my rage. Somehow, though, I manage to work through it. My family has been big supporters of me and my decisions since I’ve been old enough to make them, and when I told them about Mrs. Fields, they stepped in to help where they could.
 

Mia and I still visit on Thursday nights with Mrs. Fields, and when Zoe can, she will stop by to have supper with us before she heads over to the bar. Mia seems to understand a little about her nanny being sick. She will cuddle up in bed with Mrs. Fields and watch Mickey Mouse or they will read books. Mia knows something is wrong, and whenever she’s around her Nanny, she knows to be careful.
 

Zoe lives with Mrs. Fields pretty much full time now. She stays over on the nights she’s not working at the bar, knowing she cannot be left alone in her condition. When she does have to work, a home healthcare nurse stays with her throughout the night until Zoe comes back the next morning. The arrangement is tiring for Zoe, I can tell by the exhaustion on her face, but she has yet to complain. She does it without expecting anything in return, either.
 

I am impressed by her willingness to help out. I know Zoe has a rocky relationship with her family—it’s obvious by what little she has let slip out—but that hasn’t stopped her from swallowing her pride to help someone in need. It only proves she’s got a strong character and is a dependable person. Nowadays, those types of people are impossible to find. People you’ve trusted your entire life can end up being the worst kind of people to be around. Nothing has proved this more than the night Jeremy was arrested.
 

I am discovering that, whenever she’s around, I’ve become captivated by her presence. My body reacts to the nearness of hers, and it’s getting impossible to ignore. The only thing that keeps me in check is the devotion I have to Presley. I refuse to let her memory be trumped by someone I barely know, however it’s getting harder and harder to fight the physical desire I have to be with Zoe. I am yearning to be with a woman. Even before Presley and I met, I never went without the touch of a woman, and since her death, I have never craved it so much in my life as I have the last few months.
 

It’s Saturday night and the bar is unusually slow. There are hardly any people drinking, only a few regulars and myself. I’ve finished my second beer when Zoe strides up in front of me. She fills a shot glass with tequila and passes me the lime wedges. I look at her and see she’s poured one for herself.
 

“I want to get drunk tonight. How about you?” she asks as she holds up the shot.
 

“I’m in the drinking mood.” I hold up my shot of tequila and join her as she toasts.
 

“To getting drunk tonight,” she pledges.
 

“To getting drunk tonight,” I repeat and we clink the glasses together then down the liquid. It
burns on the way down, yet it goes down better than I’ve expected. Zoe pours another shot for both of us and we tip them back again.
 

“Drink on your own time, Zoe!” Darcie shouts from the other side of the bar.
 

“Do you care if I call it a night so I can get drunk? This place is dead and I need to get out of here,” Zoe shouts back to Darcie.
 

They’ve become pretty close over the last couple of months. They don’t spend too much time outside of work with each other, but they’re friendly enough, nonetheless. I remember a day when Darcie would refuse to be friendly with anyone. Man, she used to be such a bitch.
 

“No, that’s cool,” Darcie agrees and begins to wipe down the bar top as Gavin repeatedly flips through the sports channels.
 

As Zoe grabs her stuff from behind the bar and comes back over to me, she has a big grin on her face that makes me wonder if she’s already feeling pretty drunk. “So, you wanna go to my place and get drunk? I’ve got tequila,” she singsongs to me. I can’t remember ever seeing her so hyped up. The grin on her face is huge, and I’m finding it impossible to look away from her.
 

I nod as she pulls me off the stool and we head out the back door. The cold winter air hits my face, sending a chill down my spine. Snow has lightly started to fall, dusting the ground with a white, shimmery powder. We both brush the snow off our cars, and I look over to Zoe. She looks happy, maybe
too
happy.
 

“Are you okay to drive?”
 

“Please…I’ve had two shots. I’m good. Follow me and try to keep up.” Zoe falls into her Chevelle, and I get into mine. She peels out of the parking lot and fishtails onto the highway. I start to regret letting her drive, not really knowing how she will be able to handle liquor or driving on the snow covered roads.
 

It only takes a few minutes to get to her apartment, and I’m relieved we haven’t had to go further. She pulls into a garage and I find an empty parking space in front of her apartment building. She meets me on the sidewalk and I follow her up the stairs to her apartment.
 

With each step she takes, I get hypnotized by the sway she has in her hips and the round curve of her ass. Zoe’s long legs are wrapped in denim and I’m aching inside my own jeans to take her out of hers.
 

As we finish walking up the stairs, I start to get the feeling that I should leave. I know what will happen if I allow it. My body is dying to feel a woman again, but all that will be left in the morning is the guilt and pain for what I might do. There is too much attraction with this girl and it can only lead me down the wrong road.
 

Zoe
 

After my conversation with Aunt Connie, I decided that I needed to know more about this man. I needed to find out what happened in his past. When I pulled up Google on my laptop, though, I froze. I was scared to know what the real truth was. Right now, we are passing as friends, and if I find out more about his past, that may cause me to turn and run, or worse. Maybe I will want to stay.
 

Although, I can’t leave yet—not until Aunt Connie has passed away—I don’t want to have
any other reason to stay. Or do I? The last thing I want to do is make him a reason to keep myself from running.
 

The Saturday night crowd has been moving at a snail’s pace. I’ve been feeling guilty about leaving my aunt with the home healthcare nurse even though I’ve done it several times before, but today, she has been really bad. She has been barely awake and her heart rate has been getting weaker over the last couple of days. I know it won’t be long before she will be gone. So when Drake walks through the door, I take a long look at him and know I need to let loose. Unbeknownst to him, he is going to be the source of my good night.
 

He looks very sexy in his dark jeans and long sleeved, gray shirt. From the first time I’ve laid eyes on him I’ve been craving to see his muscles. I can tell he’s very trim underneath his shirt and I’m aching to touch his skin.
 

Channeling my inner whore, I concoct a plan to get out of the bar to my house. What guy doesn’t want to get drunk at a random girl’s house with the promise of a good time? Well, I can’t think of one, and I am dying to see if Drake will follow along. To my surprise, he does.
 

After leaving the bar and driving home, I open the door to my studio apartment and toss my keys on the counter. “Welcome to my one room palace,” I say as I spread my arms like a spokesmodel on a game show. I bend down and remove my boots then walk into the kitchen.
 

Drake moves into the apartment and removes his boots as well then stands and looks around. He is taking in my empty apartment, studying the small space as I move to the cupboard and pull out the tequila.
 

All the apartment holds is my air mattress, which is taking up the space in the middle of the living slash bedroom. My laptop and small stereo sit next to the mattress on the floor. I have my clothes hanging in the closet and my tiny microwave sitting on the kitchen counter.
 

“This is all you have?” Drake’s deep voice questions as he looks over my apartment.
 

“This is all I need,” I correct as I hand him the bottle of tequila. “I don’t have glasses or a lime, so we’ll have to drink it out of the bottle and choke it down without the lime.”
 

When Drake takes the bottle from my hand and tips his head back, the fire in my belly ignites. I watch his lips curve around the bottle and his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows the amber fluid. He’s got the sexiest lips I’ve ever laid eyes on. I can’t wait to taste them—to feel them all over my body.
 

Drake moves to the air mattress and looks confused whether or not he should sit on it. When I pull on his arm and flop down on the bed, he comes down with me, and we both laugh. Then, I lean over and turn on the music. I’ve been heavily into blues lately, and I allow Etta James to sound through the apartment.
 

I take a sip of tequila and then another and another. I’m starting to experience the numbing effects, and it feels good. Drake follows suit and takes a few sips from the bottle. Then we sit in silence for a moment without looking at each other, waiting for the other to speak.
 

“So,” Drake says as he takes another drink. “Tell me about yourself, Zoe.”
 

Ugh, the dreaded filler conversation. I neither have the patience for, nor the desire to share. I just want him. My body is aching and has been since I first saw him. I am not going to kill my buzz and his good mood by drudging up my past ghosts. I don’t talk about my past with anyone
because that means I’m getting too comfortable, and I refuse to get comfortable here.
 

“Nope, we’re not doing that.”
 

“Doing what?” Drake questions.
 

“I don’t want to talk about my past any more than you do.” I look over to him, seeing the pain and anger in his eyes. Something dark is clouding him, but tonight’s not the night to know what that something is. “Drake, tonight is about having fun, not walking down some fucked-up memory lane.” I pull another sip from the bottle and soak in the burn.