Hustle (Sample and Bonus Chapters)

28: This Time (Drew's POV Bonus Chapters)

I had a plan— a strategy— for how I'd handle her, for what I'd say, do. But that's obliterated the moment she steps out of the house and my fading headlights spotlight on her, highlighting everything I want.

Everything I lost.

And then the lights turn off, shadowing us. But I keep moving towards her, until I'm close enough for her haunted look to slam into me, stopping me in my path as she stands still with a heavy sadness I'm probably responsible for.

I want to pull her into me, to take on the weight she's carrying. I want to question her, demand answers for this weekend. I want to yell at her for turning to another person, for running from me, for not giving me a chance to explain.

For not trusting me.

I want to yell at her.

I want to demand answers—her answers.

I want to kiss her.

Grab her and dominate her. Remind her of what we were, what we could still be. Erase this past weekend—anyone else's touch from her body, her lips, anyone else's words from her mind. Anything that's not her and me. Make her see that there's still an us. There's still a chance. There has to be.

Except, I don't do any of that. I stand there. Silent. Trying to read her mind as we stare at each other, but my own mind is too loud, too fast. Spinning recklessly from thought to thought.

Then the door opens behind her and a man leans on the frame with a stern look.

"Hello, again." Her mother stands just behind the man and greets me with a warm smile, but her eyes shift between us. "Why don't you two come inside?"

"Hello, Ms. Shaw." I nod to her mother and extend my hand to the older man. "Hello sir, I'm Andrew."

"I know who you are." The guy squeezes my hand, more than a firm shake, but it's his words that unsettle me. "I'm Officer Bradford."

"Is everything okay?" I question Brook, and her nervous glances between us all only worries me more, and I step into the foyer.

"I don't know, you tell me," the officer in plain clothes challenges me, and every muscle in my body tightens.

"Oh, stop." Brook's mom swats his arm, and he cracks a smile. "Bruce is a friend of the family. Can I get you something to drink or eat?"

"Actually," Brook interrupts and pushes through the screen door while trying to put on her shoes. "We're going out for a little while. I'll be back."

I'm relieved she wants to be alone with me, but I'm unsure if her wanting to leave the house is a good sign or bad. I hold the door for her and say goodbye to the two still watching us, but she doesn't meet my look. She rushes out the door to my truck and doesn't look back once.

In the dark cab of the truck, she remains silent as I back out of her driveway, but there's a struggle in her I can't place, and my own breaths strain as her chest rises and falls like she's in pain. I almost don't want her to talk because I don't want her to put words to that emotion, I don't want to hear what I caused. Because something sure as fuck happened this weekend, and the only thing I'm certain of is it wouldn't have happened if I'd done things differently.

"What happened?" The cracks in her voice travel straight to my heart, and she nods towards my hands gripping the wheel.

My bruised knuckles ignite my anger all over again, but I fight to maintain my composure. I need her story.