Drew X Jake Novels & Stories

she said. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” Normally, he would have smirked by now. Said something sarcastic. Nothing. He looked tired. Worse than tired. Like he had already made a decision and hated himself for it. Lisa slowly closed her laptop. “What happened?” Jake didn’t answer immediately. He looked at her for a second too long. Then leaned back in his chair. Like he was preparing for impact. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm. “Marry me.”

*** When the jet landed at eight-thirty Drew scrambled over to Jake, barking out Trixie’s address. “Yes, sir. You okay, sir?” “No,” Drew admitted. “I’m not.” “Where’s the young lady?” “I’m a freaking idiot, Jake, and so we’re headed to her place so I can try and get her back,” he confided before he could stop himself. Jake grinned as he placed Drew’s bag in the trunk, then shut it. “Found the one, huh, sir.” “Yes, I did,” Drew managed to grin back. “Now, I just need to get her to realize that.”

“Well, you see… I mean, it’s only fair you see her before you die, but the thing is—and oh, I’m sure you won’t believe me, but—” “I want to see my mum. Please,” I interrupt, voice rising with desperation. Drew pauses, lips pursed in a mocking little pout. Jake watches the exchange, his face unreadable. “You can’t do that,” Drew finally says. “You’re missing. And missing people don’t go around visiting their families and singing Barney songs at bedtime.” “Quit taunting her,” Jake says, like he’s tired of Drew’s shit. I don’t know if he’s trying to be kind or just playing the good guy to get in my head, but Drew rolls his eyes and walks out with a groan and a muttered, “suck my dick.”

she said. "I don't think he's ever cared," Sophie said, reaching to open a drawer below her dresser. "Tell them we'll be right down, Mom. We just have to make some finishing touches." Finishing touches take twenty minutes when Sophie handles them. We went down the stairs to find Jax and Zharn standing there, looking effortlessly cool. Jax’s black bomber jacket and fitted dark gray T-shirt barely masked his broad shoulders, the black ripped jeans completing his usual rugged yet put-together style. We are matching. A silver chain peeked from under his shirt, and his whiskey-colored eyes flickered over my outfit. I felt naked.