by Jill Shalvis
His smile was kind and tinged with pain, and her heart ached for him. And he was right. She didn’t listen very well. Or at all.
“I do accept them,” she said softly. “I mean, Winnie’s . . . amazing. Resilient. She’ll always come out on top, I know it. And as for Gavin, he’s smart, resourceful, charismatic . . . He’s got so much potential. Addiction’s a disease, he didn’t do it on purpose.”
Cam gave her a small smile. “And here you thought you had nothing to say.”
SHE WENT LOOKING for Gavin first. She found him in the very kitchen she’d just abandoned. He’d cleaned up the mess and was surrounded by what looked like all the ingredients she’d had in the pantry. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning and organizing our pantry.” He hadn’t looked at her, but his voice dared her to contradict the our part.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t listen before, but I’m listening now. Please talk to me.”
“I’m busy right now.”
Racked with guilt, she got between him and the pantry and met his gaze, which was both hollow and haunted. “Gavin,” she whispered, and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve known. I hate that I didn’t. You needed me and I wasn’t there for you.”
“It’s not your fault.” He stood still for a moment, and then sighed and hugged her back. “We’re not big on sharing our feelings. There’s no way you could’ve known.”
And the dagger just slid in deeper, because Cam was right. She didn’t listen enough. “Gavin.” He pulled back, seeming tense again. Braced for a fight, she realized. “You’re my brother,” she said quietly. “And your life choices are yours to make, and I’ll support you no matter what.”
He looked at her for a long beat. “I doubt that would still be true if I told you that I fell into my job because I just happened to be good at it, but it got stressful. And then more stressful. And to deal with that stress, my roommate—a pot dealer, by the way—helped me out now and then. But it got a little out of control, because I was already using illegal prescription meds to relax and cope. And then I got the DUI and everything snowballed.”
“I hate how that all happened to you.”
“It didn’t happen to me. I did it to myself.” He looked her right in the eyes, not shying away. “I used up all my money for lawyers and rehab. Ran credit cards up too. By the time I got out, my world had imploded, leaving me jobless and just about penniless. And if it helps, Winnie didn’t know any of this either, not until I got out of rehab.” He lifted his hands. “Anyway, so here I am.”
She drew a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You’re my brother. You’re home, and being home will help. You’ll get through this, but you won’t be alone.”
Gavin looked at her, disbelieving.
“I mean it,” she said.
“You’re not mad?”
“Not at you.”
“We need more flour.” Then he wrapped his arms around her and buried his head against her shoulder. She felt his emotional shudder run through him.
She hugged him close. “We’ll get more flour.”
“We need more sugar too,” he said, or at least that’s what she thought he said, muffled against her shirt.
She swallowed hard. “Whatever you need.”
“Then I really need a new KitchenAid food processor in candy apple.”
She snorted through her thick throat.
“Piper?”
“Yeah?”
“What if what I really need is to be here with you and Win for a little bit?” He lifted his head and met her gaze.
She drew a deep breath as she realized her own hopes and dreams of going off to school were getting further and further away. “Then we’ll all live together again for a little bit.”
“And if we want to kill each other?”
“We already do,” she said. “Wanting to kill each other is sort of the definition of being siblings.”
He hugged her again. “Love you, Pea.”
His old nickname for her, from the early days when he hadn’t been able to say Piper. He hadn’t used it in so long that just the sound of it was like coming home. It’s enough, she told herself. This life’s enough.
“Love you more,” she whispered.
Chapter 14
“Sorry not sorry.”
Gavin waited until late that night when the house was dark and silent to sneak out. Back in the days of his wild and crazy and very confused teen years, he’d snuck out a lot. That had involved escaping through his second-story bedroom window, climbing along the ledge to the corner of the house, and shimmying down a tree.
On those nights, he’d rarely had an agenda. All he’d known was that he’d grown up in a world so far from this one, a wanderlustful, amazing, crazy world in which he’d seen every continent and more cultures than most people knew existed. He’d not known anything different until he’d been sent here after hell had broken loose.
A hell of his own making that had started and ended in the DRC. There’d been strict rules for him and his sisters there, and a “yard” they’d had to stay within. Going past that into the jungle had been forbidden. In fact, that had been Winnie’s first full sentence when she’d been three years old: “Don’t leave yard.”
So of course Gavin and his BFF, Arik, had gone into the jungle in the midst of a storm. And they’d walked right into a gang of local drug runners. In the ensuing fight to get away, they’d been separated. Gavin had heard the shots and run until his side hurt. He’d tumbled into the yard. Alone. It’d been hours later, when the storm had been gaining steam by the minute, that Arik’s body had been found.
The very next day, he and his sisters had been sent home by their parents, who promised to follow shortly.
They’d died in the flooding from the storm before they could get out.
To say after all that, that Gavin had been a hard-to-handle kid, one who was angry and grieving and generally pissed off at the entire world, was an understatement. Suddenly his skin had felt several sizes too small, and he’d been crawling up the walls, his brain filled with so much inner turmoil he didn’t see how he could possibly go on.
So he’d escaped every night, thriving on the illicit freedom. A freedom he’d known he didn’t deserve, not when Arik would never know the same, or Gavin’s parents either. Still, he’d done his best to make sure the world knew he was angry, hurting, and racked with guilt. God, the stupid things he’d done, but he’d been a walking, talking death wish. He’d gone swimming in the lake by moonlight, alone, even in a storm with a three-foot chop. He’d stolen his grandma’s car and hit up the bars around the Cal Poly campus looking for easy, fast hookups.
His grandma had never caught on to him, and then she’d passed away right in the middle of his assholery.
Now as a dubious grown-up, he wasn’t still mad at the world. Maybe at himself, but he was slowly getting over it. And he sure as hell wasn’t going out the second-story window. He intended to go out the back door, but he found Winnie in the kitchen. She had the toaster’s parts strewn across the kitchen table. Her phone was propped up against the napkin holder, playing a YouTube video on how to fix a toaster. Sweet Cheeks was asleep in her lap. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” she asked.
“Okay, I’ll rephrase. Do you know what you’re doing?”
“If I did, would I have watched this YouTube video ten times?” She sighed. “Emmitt told me what to do, but I can’t remember all he said.” She met his gaze and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He headed to the door. “Don’t get electrocuted.”
“Don’t find trouble.”
He turned back. “What does that mean?”
“You’re heading out, right? I thought people in NA aren’t supposed to go out alone.”
Yeah, and he was also supposed to be working on his steps, making amends. �
�I’m not looking to get wasted.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Pinky promise?” she asked.
He realized she wasn’t kidding. She was utterly serious and also worried, which made his chest ache. “Hey,” he said. “I really am okay. You know that, right?”
“You keep saying it, but you lost your job, your place, and near as I can tell, all your friends.”
“That was last year,” he quipped. “This year I’m trying something new.”
She still didn’t smile, and he let out a long breath and came back to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her.
“Is this about the fight tonight?”
She set her head on his shoulder and pressed her hands to her belly. She was three and a half months along, and even with her hands holding her shirt tight to her, there was only a very slight curve to her stomach.
“I haven’t told Piper yet,” she said.
“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”
“Cam wants me to.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And Emmitt wants me to.”
He looked at her.
“And you want me to,” she said.
“Yes. I do.”
“No one’s ratted me out.”
“It’s your secret to tell, Win.”
“I know. I’m working my way up to it.”
The irony didn’t escape him. He was working his way up to certain things as well. “Sooner than later,” he said, eyeing her belly. “Or you won’t be telling. The Bean will announce her own arrival.”
Winnie rubbed her stomach. “You think it’s a girl? The doc said it’s hard to tell before twenty weeks.”
“I don’t care what it is as long as you and it stay healthy,” he said. “But yeah, I figure it’s a girl. Karma for your teenage years,” he teased.
She finally smiled, and he felt his own smile curve his mouth.
“We’re going to be okay, Win. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. But what about Piper?” She jerked her chin toward the window, and when he looked out, he saw Piper had set up lights and was painting the outside of the last cabin.
“You don’t think she’s okay?” he asked.
“Uh, hello, it’s midnight and she’s out there painting the cottages.”
Good point.
“I think we drove her insane, Gav. Actually, I think we still do. She needs someone in her life.”
They watched Piper paint. She dipped her roller into the pan and lifted it high to reach the eaves. A few drops must have hit her because she swiped her arm over her face, which only smeared the paint.
“We should fix her up with someone,” Winnie said. “As a bonus, it’d distract her from us.”
“Think so?” Gavin asked doubtfully, eyeing Piper’s crazy hair, the paint-streaked face, her ancient, holey jeans, and the too big, long-sleeved T-shirt that read SORRY NOT SORRY across the front.
A shadow crossed the yard and Gavin rose before realizing who it was.
Cam. He said something to Piper, who tipped her head back and laughed.
Laughed.
His hard-ass sister rarely did that anymore.
“Huh,” Winnie said. “Maybe he can’t see too well.”
Cam ran a finger over Piper’s paint-covered jaw and said something else. Piper didn’t laugh this time. She bit her lower lip and stared at Cam’s mouth. And then . . .
“Shit.” Gavin shut his eyes. “They’re going to make out.”
“No, it’s even better.”
Gavin opened his eyes. Cam had taken his hands off Piper—thankfully—and now the man had the roller and was painting in long, smooth strokes. Piper had picked up a paintbrush and was working on the windowsill.
Winnie boggled. “Oh my God, do you think she somehow managed to find a guy all by herself?”
“They grow up so fast,” Gavin said, which made Winnie laugh.
“You do realize she’ll mess this up, which is why we have to help.”
“No. You’re not going to interfere.”
“But—”
“She’s okay,” Gavin said firmly.
Winnie didn’t look convinced. “She’s gonna need help.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean she’ll thank you for it. You stay out of it.”
“Gavin.”
“Yeah?”
She looked worried again, but tossed him her keys. “Be careful?”
“Always.”
He headed into town, driving aimlessly for a while. He avoided the Whiskey River Bar and Grill. He was getting his life together, so why tempt fate?
It was one in the morning when he found himself in front of CJ’s house. Yes, he’d stalked his ex, figuring out which house was his thanks to a combination of Instagram and Gavin’s knowledge of every square inch of the county.
He wasn’t sure why he’d come here. Or why he got out of the car and stood on the front porch. It was stupid. It was beyond stupid really, especially when he heard footsteps come up behind him. He whipped around and froze.
CJ stood there, gun out. “Good way to get yourself killed.”
Just looking at the first and only love of his life was a gut punch. And a heart punch. And a soul punch . . .
God, he’d been so stupid. And wasted so much time. “Getting killed isn’t the plan,” he said mildly, even with his heart in his throat. “At least not tonight.”
CJ just shook his head as he shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans, at the small of his back. The jeans were the only thing he wore, and the difference between the too-skinny eighteen-year-old CJ and the now ripped twenty-eight-year-old CJ was . . . eye-opening.
“So what was your plan?” his past asked, still looking pissed off.
Plan? Gavin had no idea. So he went with his first instinct. He yanked CJ close and kissed him, the man’s erotic growl of surprise spearing heat through Gavin’s entire body. His hands came up to slide into CJ’s hair, against his scalp, tugging him closer still, the kiss a haunting, almost forgotten combo of promise and connection.
“Stupid plan,” CJ said when they came up for air.
“No shit.”
“I should kick your ass.”
Gavin smiled. “You could try.”
CJ shook his head. “You’re not even the slightest bit sorry you tried to sneak into a cop’s house undetected.”
“I’m a little sorry,” he said with a shrug, adrenaline still pumping through him. “But probably not nearly as much as you think I should be . . .”
Swearing roughly, CJ gripped Gavin’s biceps hard.
Shoving me away or pulling me in?
They stared at each other until a rough groan tore from CJ’s throat and he yanked Gavin inside.
Chapter 15
“Careful, payback’s a bitch.”
A few days later, Piper was exhausted and just leaving the station after a long twelve hours at work when she got a text from Winnie.
Meet me at the lake at the tire swing. p.s. maybe change first. Nothing personal, but it wouldn’t hurt you to up your game from your usual fashion sense, which screams “I’m cold and tired.”
Piper looked down at her fleece-lined stretch pants and oversized flannel button-down. Okay, so maybe her sister had a point. When she got home, she upgraded to jeans, but stuck with the flannel shirt because comfort.
Besides, there were other things to worry about. Like her siblings. Her motto had always been, if she couldn’t fix it, she put it on a list and set it aside for later. Some people might consider that denial, but she called it survival.
But she and Winnie had a lot to work on.
The swing was about a half mile around the north side of the lake where the landscape was open wildland. The three of them had spent many, many summer days there, chasing the ducks, swimming, and using the tire swing—which hung from a huge old oak tree—to jump into the lake. Well, Winnie and Gavin had. Piper never jumped into the lake.
As she walked, she
told herself that Winnie’s text seemed like a white flag, a way to meet in the middle, in a place where there were only good memories. She had no idea what to expect, but when she got there twenty minutes later, there was a cute picnic basket at the water’s edge.
But no Winnie.
Piper sat down on the blanket, and while she waited, pulled out her journal. She thumbed to her Home Depot list and what she needed in order to finish upgrading the cottages, but quickly got bored with that and flipped the pages to her secret secret bucket list.
So many things to add . . .
But she realized that all of them, the things she’d written and the things she hadn’t, represented one thing.
Loneliness.
It was a hard pill to swallow. She’d purposely protected her heart to save it from the pitfalls of life, and in doing so, had closed herself off.
The truth was, she wanted to be wanted. She wanted to feel something. She wanted passion and hunger and desire, but more than any of that, she wanted someone to feel those things for her.
It’d been a long time since something or someone had moved her. She stared out at the water. It was still warm. This entire winter had been warmer than any she could remember. The lake sparkled from the late-afternoon sun, the water a deep blue. But that wasn’t what she saw. She was seeing, remembering, Cam coming out of the shadows late at night, as he had a few nights before, to help her paint the cottages. She was seeing the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunch and stretch the material of his shirt taut as he moved so effortlessly with the roller, making more headway in minutes than she had in hours.
She was seeing him grin at the paint on her face, looking so playful and relaxed that she “accidentally” painted her hand and then patted him on the back as he worked.
And then his butt. “Oops,” she’d said. “I just got paint on your best body part.”
He’d flashed her a full wolf grin. “That’s not my best body part.”