Crave: The Gibson Boys, Book #3 Page 4

  “Ew.”

  He chuckles. “Can’t help I’m a good-looking motherfucker.”

  “So. Gross.”

  We laugh as he closes the dishwasher.

  “What I’m trying to say, I guess, is I don’t think you can convince yourself you don’t love him. Not if it’s real love. Not if it’s like I love Kallie.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe it’s not like that,” I lie, my heart squeezing. “Maybe it’s a high school crush that’s unrequited, and it’s time I make peace with that.” I head to the light switch by the refrigerator and look at my brother. “People do this all the time. The percentage of people who marry their first love is actually very low. They survive. I can too.”

  He walks by, looking unconvinced. “Get a Plan B together, Had. Just in case.”

  “I have one. I’ll hate him.” I flip off the light. “I got this. Don’t worry.”

  “I have doubts.”

  Following him down the hallway, I feel my spirits dip. Cross flips me a final grin before closing his bedroom door behind him.

  Standing in the hallway alone, my thoughts an errant mess, I sigh before heading toward the guest room. “Yeah, well, I have doubts too.”

  Five

  Machlan

  My phone rests next to the napkin holder in the center of my kitchen table. Fashionable from the eighties, each plastic side of it has faint etches of apples in the center. It’s hideous and probably not worth the effort it would take to throw it in the trash where it belongs, but I can’t do that. It was Mom’s.

  I stare at my phone like it might hop off the table and gnaw off my leg. My fingers itch to pick it up and call a number ingrained in my brain deeper than any other—one of the very few numbers I actually know. With each passing second, my stomach twists harder until it pulls into a knot so tight I wince.

  “Fuck it,” I say and swipe up the device. I ignore the number I really want to call and press her brother’s instead. It’s at the top of the list anyway from when I almost called it an hour ago but hung up before it rang.

  As I gaze out the window over the sink, the phone rings once. Twice. Three times. My blood soars through my veins as a hundred thoughts speed through my mind. I snatch my keys off the counter when I hear Cross’s voice come through the line. The keys clatter to the table.

  “Hey,” he says. His voice is the equivalent of a blank stare—neutral. Lukewarm. Beige.

  “Hey.”

  He doesn’t respond, forcing the onus back on me. Fucker. I don’t know what to say. I have nothing to say. I just want him to tell me what I want to know and let me get back on with my night.

  As I look around kitchen, finding the half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich and untouched glass of milk, I search for words.

  “How’s the gym?” I ask finally.

  Cross chuckles. “Shut the fuck up, Mach.”

  “Fine. What do you want me to say?” I bark. “Hadley just waltzes into Crave like she owns the damn place and orders a drink like it’s her Friday night routine. Am I wrong for wanting to make sure she hasn’t lost her mind and that she actually made it to your house?”

  The line grows quiet as my words die off. With each passing second, I find it harder to breathe. It gets that much more difficult to keep my hands out of my hair and my voice from shouting demands at my friend.

  “She’s there, right?” I growl.

  “What if she’s not?”

  “Then where the hell is she?”

  “What if it’s none of your business? I mean, it’s not your business, is it?”

  I must’ve misheard him because those are fighting words. Through clenched teeth, my knuckles turning white, I scowl. “It’s always my business. You know that.”

  “Maybe I don’t,” he says, energized all of a sudden. “Maybe I agree with Hadley that you need to mind your own business.”

  “Maybe you need to mind your mouth, Cross.” I regret the words before they’re even said, but I don’t take them back. “Is she there or not?”

  A long pause settles awkwardly between us as I plot ways to kill him after I find Hadley. I hear Kallie whispering, what must be sheets rippling, and the sound of something creaking, then Cross sighs.

  “Yes. She’s here,” he says.

  “Good.” My entire body sags against the wooden cabinets. “You could’ve just said that five minutes ago.”

  “Anything else you want to ask?”

  “Not at the moment. I’ll call if I think of something.”

  “No doubt.” The sheets rustle again. “If we’re done here, I’m gonna go.”

  “Wait,” I say quickly. “Does she seem all right to you?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  I think back to the night she called me late, too late, and told me she thought she was dying. How I sped to Bluebird to find her and a couple of people she never should’ve been with toasted on rhubarb moonshine. How I scooped her up and took her home with me and watched her sleep all night. I wiped her mouth after she puked and made her sip water even when she didn’t want to. I was scared shitless. I made her promise that night she’d never drink again.

  I’m sure she has. She’s a grown woman. But to come in Crave and order a drink from me prickles at my skin. Why would she do that?

  “I don’t know. She never comes into Crave, never drinks. Not after your mom’s accident and the one night she got hammered on moonshine …”

  “Yeah, well, how well do you know her these days?” Cross asks, oblivious to the thoughts I just had. “I mean, how much time have you really spent with her lately? People change. People grow up. People make new choices.”

  I can barely shuffle a swallow down my throat. She can’t change. I know her. I know what makes her smile and laugh and get so incensed she can’t see straight. I know she prefers strawberry jelly over grape and has never turned down an elephant ear in her life. I know who she is better than anyone, even her, and fuck him for acting like she’s someone different.

  “Look, Mach, she’s fine. We just had dinner and a long talk about her plans and what she’s doing with her life.”

  “Oh.” I wait for him to tell me the details. He doesn’t.

  “She’s in a good place. You don’t need to worry about her.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  I work my bottom lip between my teeth as I listen to him and Kallie whisper. Finally, he comes back to the line.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I gotta go. Kallie’s getting antsy.” She must smack him because he laughs. “When it comes to Hadley, I got her. She’s my sister. You don’t owe her anything.”

  “I …”

  “Good night, Mach.”

  “Yeah. Bye.”

  The line goes dead, the screen lit up like a Christmas tree. I hold the device and stare at the screen. On the other side of that last call is Cross and Kallie … and Hadley.

  The phone clatters against the countertop.

  My hands go in my hair as I yank on the strands.

  As much as I don’t want to admit it, Cross is right. I need to step back. There are reasons, big ones, why things didn’t work out between Hadley and me. Lines were drawn. Choices made. Things decided that would forever change the two of us individually and together, and I can’t forget that.

  “Hey. You home?” Peck’s voice calls through the house.

  My hands go from my scalp to my cheeks as I listen to his footsteps grow louder across the hardwood floors. “Yeah.”

  He enters the kitchen but stops quickly. Scanning the room, he settles his gaze on the sandwich. A snicker pierces the air as he takes a couple of steps toward the table and deposits the black bank bag with a thud.

  “It was a good night.” He wraps his hands along the back of a chair. “The register was off ten dollars, but I think it was my fault. Nora got busy, and I had to serve a couple of yuppies from Chicago. They got me talking, and I fucked up the math. I think.” He scratches his head. “Anyway, I put the money in outta my pocket so it wouldn’t l
ook like it was Nora.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to add to your problems tonight.” The chair is whirled around, and Peck sits his ass down. “Nora told me she put in her notice.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You replacing her?”

  “Already did.” My feet are heavy as they trudge across the kitchen. Ignoring Peck’s curious gaze, I take my time in pulling out a chair and getting situated across from him. “Do you know Navie Barnes?”

  “That would be a negative.”

  “She starts tomorrow.”

  Peck wipes his hands down the front of his pants. “Are we feelin’ good about this?”

  “I’m not feeling good about jack shit.” I hang my head. “I knew Nora would quit. She kept saying she wasn’t going back to school, but I knew she would and then would feel terrible about having to quit at the last minute. So I hired Navie a couple of weeks ago to start tomorrow.”

  When I lift my head, Peck is grinning.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Just glad you have it figured out. That’s all.”

  “One thing out of a million.”

  His grin pulls wider. “What else you got goin’ on?”

  I stand and turn to face the window over the sink. It’s so dark out I can’t see a damn thing except for the security light at the cemetery a ways down. Just as I’m about to find a comfortable mental distance between myself and this mess with Hadley, Peck moves. It reminds me there is no ignoring it. At least, not for now.

  “Well,” I say, referring to his question. “I have Spencer Eubanks coming by this week.”

  “Over that building on Ash Street?”

  “Yeah.” I turn to look at him. “He’s not really hyped on letting me do a land contract on the place. Probably for the same reason the bank wasn’t either.”

  “You know what? That’s bullshit. You’re trying to do something good for this town.”

  “I guess this is why small towns fall apart. A guy like me—not on the town board, not a commissioner, no one fancy—can’t be trusted.”

  Peck laughs. “I’d trust you over any of those guys all day, every day.” He laces his fingers together and rests his forearms on his knees. “Ready to talk about Hadley?”

  “What?” I ask, my head spinning. “That’s some whiplash.”

  “I feel like I warmed you up some. Did a little foreplay. Too soon?”

  “If that whole thing was your idea of foreplay, this explains why Molly doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

  He raises up, his hands pressed on his heart. “That wounds me.”

  “Shut up.” I laugh.

  Peck drops his hand and laughs too. “Hadley looks good, Mach. Funny as hell. You should’ve seen your face when she said that line about the panties—”

  “Thin ice, Peck.” I have to turn away. It doesn’t seem right to face him when memories of Hadley in her panties are streaming through my mind. The way her narrow hips round around to her ass and the way—

  “Dude, I don’t even want you to turn around. I get it.” He cackles. “I gotta go. I’ll leave you here to wonder what she’s doing tonight.”

  “Oh, I know what she’s doing tonight.”

  “What?”

  “She’s at Cross’s house.”

  “For now.” Peck heads for the door. “Who knows what she might do later?”

  “You know something, Peck?” I shout after him. He’s screwing with me. I’m ninety-percent sure. But that leaves ten percent, and that’s ten too many. “Peck!”

  “No, I don’t know anything.”

  “I mean it.”

  “So do I.”

  I scurry to the doorway just in time to see him at the front door. He looks over his shoulder with his hand on the knob.

  It’s a struggle not to grab him by the back of the neck and shake him a little until I’m sure he’s being honest. “If you know something, I want to know.”

  “You’ll just go apeshit,” he says.

  “You want to see apeshit? Watch what happens when I find you tomorrow after I hear about it, and make no mistake, I will hear about it.”

  Peck slides his hat around, his blue eyes twinkling. “I don’t know a damn thing other than you’re too easy to wind up.”

  I lunge forward, but he’s out the door before I get too far.

  His truck starts, the engine rumbling from all the tinkering he’s done to it at Crank. The sound gets louder before I hear his tires squeal, and the roar drifts off into the night. The only sound breaking the silence now is the whirl of the ceiling fan in the living room.

  My back hits the cool drywall, and I rest my head against it too. My brain feels like a bunch of liquor bottles have been delivered and set around everywhere, nothing in their place. I bet I could stay up all night and not organize this mess.

  Hadley’s golden eyes flicker as soon as I close mine. Her pretty face smiles back at me. I fight to keep this vision of her and not let it denigrate to something more … realistic.

  I bet I could stay up all night and imagine her sweet face. I bet I will too.

  Six

  Hadley

  “Oh, Cross …”

  I pull my pillow over my face, cupping the fabric against my ears, but it doesn’t block out Kallie’s moans. A quick peek from under the lavender lace trim shows me they’ve been at this for a good thirty-six minutes. The volume goes up and down, as does the thrashing of the headboard against the wall, while I hide my face again.

  “Cross!” Kallie calls out from the other side of the wall.

  I launch the pillow onto the floor. “I’m done.”

  Ignoring the sounds of Cross trying to shush his girlfriend and Kallie’s incessant giggling, I slide on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. The headboard orchestra begins again as I reach for my bag and purse. I’m out the door as Cross takes over, repeating Kallie’s name.

  The late-night air rustles against my skin. Fishing my keys out of my purse, I unlock the car door and toss my things in the back.

  The neighborhood is dark and quiet as I climb in the driver’s seat. Only the streets are partially lit from the lights dotting the sidewalks every few hundred feet. I glance at the clock and wonder where the heck I’m going to go.

  Grabbing my phone out of my bra, I find my friend Emily’s number.

  Me:Hey. You up?

  Her:Yup. What’s happening?

  Me:You home?

  Her:No. Be home tomorrow. Can’t wait to see your face!

  Me:Shit. I’m in town early and was going to come by.

  Her:Sorry! I’ll be home by noon, and we can have lunch.

  Me:Sounds good.

  “Guess I’ll be sleeping in the car,” I mutter, dropping my phone into the cup holder.

  I back down the driveway. Like a sane person, I wait until I’m aimed down the road before turning on the headlights so I don’t shine them in anyone’s bedroom window.

  With nowhere to go, I pitter through the neighborhood. Little houses are tucked in perfect little rows. Minivans are parked in more than a handful of driveways as I make my way into town.

  I haven’t been out and about alone at this time of night in Linton in a long time. It’s calmer than I remember. No one is out driving the loop around town or tapping their brake lights as they pass each other as a small-town “hello” like we used to do. All the businesses are closed. I can’t even stop at Goodman’s for a tea because their lights are off too.

  I drive along in silence, pondering how long Cross and Kallie might be able to maintain that kind of pace and if it’s safe to go back, when I make a turn onto Beecher Street. I ease up on the accelerator.

  Like everywhere else in Linton, Crave is quiet. There isn’t a car on the street. No lights are on. There’s not even a person loitering by the back like they do sometimes after closing.

  “Keep going,” I whisper. And I do … right to Doc Burns’s parking lot. My car pulls beneath a la
rge pine tree at an angle perfect for checking out the back side of Crave.

  My heartbeat quickens as I take in the stainless-steel door and large pot for plants that I suspect is filled with cigarette butts. Just to the right of that is an old wooden staircase with chipped white paint. A security light hangs haphazardly atop a tall pole and gives the area a muted yellow glow.

  I pick up my phone and open the door.

  “You’re an idiot,” I tell myself. Still, I keep moving forward.

  My flip-flops smack against the pavement as I cross Beecher. A truck rumbles somewhere in the distance, but other than that, everything is perfectly still. Everything but the thrumming in my ears from my heart going wild.

  I follow the train track that runs through town, over a side street, until I’m at the back of the bar. My breath billows in front of me in the cool night air.

  Wishing I had a hoodie over the T-shirt, I gaze in the planter as I walk by. Sure enough, a million pounds of cigarette ash and ends float in dirty rainwater.

  I make my way to the steps leading to the one-room apartment above Crave. The railing wobbles under my grip, and I wonder if it’s some veiled warning by the heavens not to keep going. Like the brainiac I am, I continue up the rickety steps.

  A little window is positioned next to the door. The plaid curtains are split in the middle and I peer through. It’s pitch black inside.

  My heart twists in my chest as I remember many nights here with Mach. In high school, when his uncle still owned Crave, we’d come up here and have poker nights with our friends. I made my first batch of cupcakes in the oven in there for Machlan’s birthday and spent so many afternoons curled up against him while he watched football.

  As I turn to go back to my car, I imagine Kallie’s breathy moans. The sound is overshadowed by a set of tailpipes coming up the side street. I stand still, not moving a muscle, as I see a truck roll up to the curb and stop.

  Peck jumps out. “What the hell are you doing, Had?”

  “Hey! What are you doing out so late?”