Gibson Boys Box Set

by Locke, Adriana

  “You fucking idiot.”

  The door chimes and I don’t even look up. “I gotta go. Someone came in.”

  “Call me later. We have to discuss this.”

  “Love ya.”

  “Love you, Walker. Call me.”

  I end the call and look up to see old man Dave standing in the lobby. His hair is dripping wet, his clothes soaked. I spring off the chair and rush around to him.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  He seems physically uninjured, yet sopping. But it becomes increasingly obvious that an injury is there. I just can’t see it.

  Grabbing the chair, I work it around to the front. “I need to just get a chair for out here, huh?”

  He tries to smile as he sits. “My wife passed this morning.”

  “Oh, Dave.” I rest a hand on his shoulder, not sure what to say. “I’m so sorry.”

  “She went peacefully. The nurses called really late last night and I headed up there to sit with her. I held her hand,” he says, his gaze settled on something in the distance, “told her stories. Reminded her of all the things we’d done in our lives and how much I loved her.”

  I squeeze his frail shoulder, a loss for words.

  “The rain started around five o’clock,” he says, his voice so hollow it’s painful for me to even hear. “I was in the middle of a story about a Thanksgiving turkey she cooked one year when she turned her head and looked at me. It was her again …” His voice breaks and he coughs into his hand, taking a minute to regain his composure. “Her eyes were blue and bright and she said, ‘Well, hello, David.’”

  He bends over and cries, catching his tears in his hands. I feel so helpless. Rubbing his back, I try to figure out what to say. This is a devastation I don’t know, one I can’t imagine. I know the pain of losing my parents, but I can’t imagine spending my entire life with someone and not having her there. The emptiness of not having Sienna already kills me.

  “She’s not struggling anymore,” he says, sitting up and looking at me through cloudy eyes. “I don’t know what I’ll do for breakfast now and don’t know why I’ll get out of bed. But I suppose this is a part of life and I’ll manage. At least I had her back for a few minutes before she passed.”

  “If there’s anything I can do, please tell me.”

  He pats my arm. “Thank you, Walker. I wanted to see if Sienna was around today.”

  Biting back a lump in my throat, I shake my head. “She’s not.”

  Despite his grief, even though he just lost his wife, Dave looks beyond the surface. “You two have a falling out?”

  “That’s nothing you need to be worried about.”

  “She reminds me of my wife. As kind as she is pretty. Wanting to fix everything,” he says, a small smile slipping across his lips. “Take it from me, do whatever it takes to keep her around.”

  “I think I messed up pretty good on this one.”

  “Well, we all do that from time to time. Nothing is bad enough it can’t be fixed.” He stands, swaying a little on his feet. “If you see Sienna, please tell her I said thank you for the breakfasts from Carlson’s this past week.”

  “What?”

  “She had something brought over to the nursing home every morning this week,” he admits, shaking his head. “It … It was appreciated.”

  A clap of thunder hits outside and I run to the back and grab an old coat of my father’s. “Here,” I say to Dave, throwing it over his shoulders. “Let’s try to keep you warm.”

  He starts in on a story about my dad and this jacket as I open the door and help him to his car. He gets settled in, the rain pelting my back. “If you’re lucky enough to get a shot at love, Walker, it’s worth whatever you have to do to keep it.”

  I watch him pull away. Standing in the middle of the parking lot, getting drenched, I know he’s right. I just don’t know if it matters.

  Thirty-One

  Sienna

  “I really don’t feel like lunch, Delaney. But thank you,” I say, trying not to let her hear how much her insistence drives me crazy. She goes on and on about how I need someone to hang out with today, how Cam asked her to check on me, how she’ll take me for coffee cake at Carlson’s.

  She means well. I know that. But I also know what it’ll be and that’s a huge anti-Walker fest. While I’ve wanted someone to join my grumblings, as the day has worn on and I really consider listening to it, it doesn’t seem appealing.

  “Delaney,” I say, cutting in. “I need to go. I have a call coming in.”

  “Call me back.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  I end the call and toss the phone on the sofa.

  The sun is out, but a little creek has formed in the back yard. It flows from the neighbors on the north to the ones on the south. The kids at the top of the hill have made these little boats and are floating them down to their friends below. Like a busybody old lady, I stand at the window and watch them play in the water. They’re so happy. So carefree. Not old enough to have their hearts broken.

  A knock at the front door startles me. Expecting to see Delaney with a bag of takeout, I pull it open without asking who it is. But it’s not Delaney. It’s Peck.

  The mischief that typically riddles his eyes is gone and is replaced with a concern that rushes back all the events from last night. I lean my head against the door and expel a sigh. “What are you doing here?”

  “Came to check on my buddy.”

  “Don’t make me cry,” I say, choking back a sob.

  He gives me his goofy smile. “You doing all right?”

  “About as well as you might’ve guessed when you realized I found out what you all already knew.”

  I let that hang in the air, a little jab to let him know how I feel. He takes the hit, actually flinching, before removing his hat and running a hand through his wild, blond hair.

  “I fucking told him to tell you,” he says, shaking his head. “We all did. Every single one of us, Slugger.”

  “But none of you did,” I say, standing upright. “I can see why Machlan didn’t. I don’t really know him. Maybe not even Lance. But you?”

  His face falls as I stand before him, calling him out on what certainly feels like a betrayal.

  “You were the one lugging me to Nana’s,” I point out. “You were the one shoving us together and making sure we had enough opportunities to connect. Hell, Peck, you were the one who came up with the idea for me to work there.”

  “You wanna know why?” he shoots back.

  “I’d love to.”

  “Because I could tell from that very first night that Walker needed someone like you. Did I know he was gonna fall on his ass for you? No. But I was thinking, at a minimum, you and he could spend some time together and it would pull him out of the fucking fog he’s been in for years.”

  “So maybe I’d sleep with him and he’d get over Tabby?” I ask, my brows shooting to the ceiling. “Gee, thanks.”

  “That’s not at all what I mean,” he swears, plopping his hat back on. “He’s been over Tabby for years. He’s just been kind of stuck.”

  My head slips from the door.

  Peck dips his chin. “He’s a great guy. I just hoped maybe I’d see the Walker I knew before he married Tabby. And you know what? I did.”

  “At my expense.”

  “Was it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “What does the fact he married a woman who ran off, one he didn’t even care enough about to chase down for a divorce—how does that hurt you? Did we know he was married? Yeah. I was there that day. I watched him almost drink himself to death an hour before the ceremony. The whole town saw him with her and the whole fucking place saw the aftermath. You think people are judging you because of this? Think again.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t my place.” He teeters on the edge of the step. “I don’t know why Walker didn’t. I know he hated falling for you knowing he still technically had a wi
fe. It’s why he pushed back so hard against it. He was going to tell you after he got back this weekend with her signature on the divorce papers.”

  All of this makes my head spin. The stress in my shoulders aches, the acid in my stomach almost eating it raw. I just want to be happy again, to smile, to want to go do something instead of sitting on the sofa and being miserable.

  I want to see Walker. I want to kiss him and hold him and make him laugh. But the man lied to me, omitted something beyond significant, and I don’t know if I can ever trust him again.

  “Go for a drive with me,” Peck says, offering me his hand. “Some fresh air will do you some good.”

  “I don’t look fit to go anywhere.”

  “My truck won’t care,” he says, shaking his proffered palm. “Come on. Trust me.”

  “The last time you said that I ended up at Nana’s.”

  “Not today. No Nana’s. No Crank. No Walker’s house. Promise. Just me and you and my ol’ truck.”

  I consider going inside and sitting by myself. I think about pacing the floors, taking a bath, overthinking everything.

  With a deep, uncertain breath, I take Peck’s hand. “Don’t let me down.”

  “I won’t. Promise.”

  ***

  SIENNA

  The rain mists against the windshield of Peck’s truck. It’s not heavy or hard but consistent enough that I can’t see Dr. Burns’ building anymore.

  My breath starts to steam the cab as I wait for Peck to come back. He disappeared inside Crave fifteen minutes ago, leaving me in the truck when I refused to go back to the scene of the crime—and I’m not even sure which crime, exactly, I was referring to.

  Despite the warm temperatures, the rain works its way into my bones. A chill settles over me and I hold myself, rocking back and forth, wishing he’d hurry up. Like I used to do when I was a little girl, I make a deal with myself: if he’s not out by the time I count to one hundred and twenty, I’m going in to get him.

  The counting starts in my head as I think I see Walker’s truck. But it’s not. It’s actually a midnight blue truck that’s a slightly different model than Daisy. As the numbers keep going up, I tick back through the night I hit her with the bat, the first day at Crave, the church service. I remember every stare, every kiss, every accidental and purposeful touch. I yearn for more. Need them, even, and wonder if I’ll ever feel normal without them.

  Hitting the magic number, I groan and open the truck door. The warm water mists around me, almost like a thick, wet fog. The street is empty as I jog across and lug on the door to Crave. It opens easily.

  There are a few lights on around the bar, mostly advertisements that glow in a variety of colors. My eyes dart to the back table, the one Walker frequents, and where the bomb that blasted me apart last night. It’s empty, the chairs neatly arranged around it, the pool balls in their pockets, everything in order.

  “Peck?” I call, my voice echoing off the walls. “Where are you?”

  When he doesn’t answer, I consider taking a spritzer out of the cooler and sitting down. It’s not my thing, but I’m not exactly me today. Instead, I walk over to the cork boards that line the wall beneath the television.

  Notes of every size and color are pinned, some serious and some not. A napkin stuck to the cork with a nail reads, “Someone tell Denise to get her ass home.” There are three pictures of two football players wearing Legends hats hanging at the top. There’s an advertisement for a wood chipper and a poem with more words I can’t read than words I can.

  “Hey.”

  I jump at the voice. I don’t turn around though because it’s not Peck. I don’t move because my feet refuse to walk away from him.

  “Where’s Peck?” I ask Walker, feeling his energy move around behind me. I close my eyes and breathe in his cologne, tears filling my lids.

  “He’s in the truck. Just went out the back door.”

  “So this was a plan to get me here?”

  “Actually, it wasn’t,” he says. “There was a plan but it involved me coming to your house after Peck made sure you were all right. This is just happenstance.”

  Second-guessing everything I think and everything I do, I turn to face him. His eyes have dark rings around them, his clothes the same he wore last night. I refuse to let the tears spill over.

  “It’s a pattern, huh?” he chuckles. “You. Me. Crave.”

  “Now we have your wife to add to that,” I throw back.

  He nods, struggling to stay composed. “Fair enough.”

  “There’s nothing fair about it,” I tell him. “You set me up.”

  “No, I didn’t. I was going to tell you.”

  “When? When did you decide was a good time for me to know the man I was falling in love with was married to someone else?” I realize my slip, but it’s too late. His eyes go wide and he starts to step towards me, but I shake my head. “Don’t.”

  “I didn’t tell you because, at first, I didn’t think it mattered. The marriage was a joke and only was intact legally because I didn’t care enough to chase her down for a divorce. You were probably leaving anyway and I figured why get into it?”

  “Because it would’ve been nice to know.”

  “And I apologize.” His eyes cloud as he runs a hand through his hair. “God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

  “You lied to me. I told you everything about me. I contemplated turning down a job with my brother for you,” I say, my face damp despite my best efforts to keep it from happening. “I made decisions that I hoped would give us a chance to figure things out between us and you made decisions that you knew would be worse the longer you waited.”

  “I tried to tell you,” he says, watching the tears fall. “Every time I tried, I got scared. Afraid you’d leave. Afraid you’d be pissed or would have your feelings hurt. I thought it would be a hell of a lot easier if I had a signed set of papers in my hand that said it was over. A thing of the past.”

  Despite my glare, he stalks across the room and stops in front of me. He searches my face, his own full of the same misery that’s torn apart my soul.

  “What are the odds we’d end up back here?” He reaches out and touches my face. My brain screams to pull away, but my heart wins. I lean against his hand, the warmth of his palm caressing my cheek. “Let this be our starting point. Let us try again.”

  “Have we ever really tried? Or was that all a lie?”

  “Nothing I said to you was a lie. Nothing I insinuated or whispered in your ear while you slept.”

  Furrowing a brow, I don’t dare ask.

  “Slugger, please …”

  Standing on my tiptoes, my heart bleeding into my chest, I press a kiss to the side of his face. As if he knows what I’m saying, he closes his eyes and drops his hand from my face.

  “I need to go,” I whisper turning to the door.

  “Sienna, wait …”

  “I’ve given you a second,” I smile sadly. “I don’t know what else you could want at this point.”

  He calls out after me, but I swing the door open and run across the road. The rain drizzles on my head as I climb into the cab of Peck’s truck.

  “Go.”

  Without a word, Peck steps on the accelerator and starts down the street. Only when we’re ready to turn off do I look back to see Walker standing in the middle of the road again, his head bowed to the asphalt, the rain creating a foggy haze around him.

  Thirty-Two

  Sienna

  We don’t exchange a word as Peck drives me home. I want to ask if he went there on purpose, but I’m pretty certain I know the answer and I can’t blame him. If I were in his position, I’d have tried it too.

  The truck slides into the driveway of my little rental and he jams it in park. “Don’t be mad at me,” he says.

  “I’m not.”

  “Nah, you are. I have broad shoulders. I can take it.”

  “I’m not mad at you,” I sigh. “I don’t even know what I am, to be honest.”


  “You’ll figure it out.” He cocks his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sticking around?”

  I lift my shoulders and let them fall, not sure what to do when all I really want to do is climb under the covers and sleep for ten years.

  He nods. “Well, you’ll do what’s best for you. You’re a smart girl.”

  “I don’t feel like it.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t always feel awesome and I know I am.”

  A chuckle escapes my lips, even though I don’t expect it. I grab the door handle and then stop. “Peck?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  He sends me his lopsided grin. “For what?”

  Sitting quietly, my hand still wrapped around the door handle, I try to focus on this one thing. I think back to all the nice things he’s done for me since I’ve known him. All the times he hasn’t just sided with Walker because they’re family, but almost treated me like family too.

  My gaze softens, my shoulders sag. “I hope Molly McCarter realizes how special you are sooner rather than later.”

  “Me too,” he sighs with a smile.

  “You’re gold, you know that?”

  “I do. But thank you for noticing,” he winks. “Go on and get out of my truck before this gets all sappy and I have to report back to Walker a bunch of shit that he’ll tease me for. Okay?”

  “Sure.” With a heavy heart, I shove open the door. Before I shut it, I peer inside the cab one final time. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “If you need anything, you know who to call. Just remember—if you’re in Georgia, I’ll need lead time.”

  With a laugh and a tear sliding down my cheek, I swing the door closed and head up to the door. In typical Peck style, he doesn’t leave until I’m in the house.

  As I hear the engine take off down the street, my back slides down the wall and I drop onto the floor. I don’t know where my sobs sound harder—in the empty house or in my desolate soul.

  ***