Gibson Boys Box Set

by Locke, Adriana

  She rolls her eyes.

  She stands and walks around the apartment. The pillow is launched from the kitchen, landing beside me. My purse is picked up off the floor and set on the table. She finds my keys in the sink and holds them in the air.

  “Don’t ask,” I warn.

  “Noted.”

  She sets them by my purse.

  “If you wanted a friend to coddle you and tell you that everything you’re doing is right, you picked the wrong friend.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not kissing your ass just because your feelings are hurt or whatever.”

  I settle back on the sofa. “Of course you’re not.”

  “I’m giving you the first point—Peck and Molly are beyond irritating, and he needs to cut her off.”

  “He did. I think. Or so he said. But he jumped to help her again today so ….”

  “Part of that is that it’s Peck. It’s in his cellular DNA to help people. He’s like a … service dog or something.”

  I laugh even though I don’t feel much like laughing.

  “But this is where things change.” She busies herself in the kitchen, making two glasses of tea. “You have to make some tough choices here, girlfriend.”

  “I moved out. That’s a tough choice.”

  She looks over her shoulder. “Okay. Noted.” She messes with a box of tea bags.

  Navie’s antics aren’t what I want or need right now. Sleep is. Or whiskey. Or brambleberry ice cream.

  My phone buzzes in front of me. It’s a text from my mom. I roll my eyes and silence it without even reading it.

  “Who was that?” Navie asks.

  “Mom.”

  She makes a face. “Have you talked to her lately?”

  “Not since I got here.”

  “You’ve never texted her back?”

  “Why? She just wants money.”

  Navie carries two teacups to the couch. She hands me my favorite, the one with hot air balloons, and then sits in the chair beside me.

  “Does she?” she asks.

  “What?”

  “Just want money?”

  “It’s all she ever wants. She’s not even nice about it.”

  She sets her teacup on the coffee table. It clinks as it settles.

  “Have you ever wondered if maybe she’s also checking on you? Making sure you’re okay?” she asks.

  “No.”

  She shrugs.

  “She doesn’t care, Navie. You know that. She just worries about Koty and Reese.”

  “Wouldn’t it be funny if Koty and Reese were sitting around right now saying, ‘Mom totally favors Dylan. When something goes wrong, it’s Dylan to the rescue.’”

  “I doubt it,” I scoff.

  “Well, maybe not, but that’s how I would feel. I mean, I was talking to my sister this morning, and we got into this argument about our parents. I think they think more highly of Armie because she’s in college, wearing pleated skirts, and dating a soon-to-be doctor. She apparently thinks they think I’m a badass who doesn’t need our trust funds and isn't afraid of hard work. That I’m going to rule the world someday with my work ethic.” She grins. “Talk about a change in perspective, right?”

  I grin. “You are pretty badass.”

  “Obviously.”

  I think about what she’s saying, but I still can’t imagine my siblings thinking that.

  “I thought of something else,” she says. "Can you imagine what Molly must’ve thought when Peck told her to scram? I mean, she must’ve thought you were the alpha woman.”

  “But he helped her again today.”

  “And went home to you.”

  Her words remind me of what Peck said. My heart squeezes. I wish he was here to give me one of his famous hugs.

  But he’s not. Because I left.

  “I just don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend, Navie. And I don’t even know if I can do a relationship. He wants to have a family and a dog, probably. I’m not there. What if I don’t get there?”

  Navie smiles. “Look at me.”

  I do.

  “Peck picked you. He chose you to share his bed. He came home and climbed onto a set of sheets with who? You.”

  “Because I was already there.”

  “And if he didn’t want you to be, he would’ve asked you to leave.” She sighs. “You need to look at things from other perspectives. I think we, as human beings, have a darker version of our reality than the people around us. I see it all the time at the bar. One guy thinks the guy to the right is slaying it because he has a fancy watch. And that guy thinks the other guy has it made because his wife doesn’t call him every ten minutes. But the guy with no wife would kill to have a woman bother him like that. Does that make sense?”

  “Kind of.”

  She leans back in her chair and watches me.

  I attempt to use her theory as I think about Peck. What would he be thinking right now? That I don’t want him? Because I do. That I think I’m too good for him? Because I don’t. That he’s not worth the effort? Because he is.

  This probably looks like an entirely different situation from Peck’s perspective, and I hate that. I hate that he might be hurting because of me.

  “Do you think I’m selfish?” I ask her.

  “No. Not at all. I just think you’ve been hurt a lot and are afraid of being hurt again.”

  “One of the main reasons I left is because I think he needs the space the same as me. His life is going through a lot of big changes too. A new girl who’s moved in and sleeping in his bed and acting all crazy jealous when he’s acting like a decent guy. He doesn’t need that.”

  “Then don’t be crazy jealous.” She scoots to the end of the chair. “Trust him.”

  “I do.”

  She calls me out with a single glance.

  “I do,” I insist again. “I just …”

  I think about the feeling in my stomach when I think of him with Molly. Whether it’s innocuous or not, it terrifies me.

  “Molly is not your competition,” Navie says. “You are your own competition. And you might kick your own ass.” She shrugs as she stands. “Now, I have to get to work. You’re welcome to stay, obviously. Just think about what I’ve said, okay?”

  I nod.

  She blows me a kiss and walks out the door.

  I grab my phone and stand. Walking around the room, I think about what she said. It’s not much different from what Peck said about Molly, actually, and how people assume they already know everything there is to know about her.

  And about him.

  He is happy-go-lucky, will-do-anything-for-you Peck, but he’s also devastated, untrusting Wesley, who lost his mom because she picked her husband over her boys.

  How did I not think of that before?

  But will he ever trust me? He said that he let others believe what they wanted about his feelings toward Molly because it was easier that way. Easier for his heart in some ways. He never feared that Molly would leave him … because he never really gave her his heart.

  Shit.

  My heart falls to the floor.

  I’m an idiot.

  I should call him and am about to when I pause.

  He doesn’t need me to check in on him and apologize. He needs me to make the choice to stay. To validate us.

  Maybe I need to work out things with my mom first. Navie’s right. I have no clue what my mother or my siblings think about me. I’d already decided. I just didn’t realize it until now. Just as I assume I know what Peck thinks and wants and what my mother thinks. And maybe I’m right. But maybe I’m wrong.

  I flip my phone over and hit the button to call the last number in my call log. It rings twice before I hear her voice.

  “Hello? Dylan?”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “I was wondering when you’d call,” she says. “Did you get my texts?”

  “About Koty needing money? Yeah.”

  She groans. “I told her yo
u’d send it. Have you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, we need it, Dylan. Can you send a check or wire it or whatever this week?”

  My spirits fall. “I’ll do my best.” It’s probably not worth mentioning that I haven’t had a job for the past two weeks.

  “These siblings of yours will be the death of me. I told them the next time they need money, they’re calling you themselves and trying to talk you into it. I’m tired of begging you.”

  I start to fire back my standard response—a groan and an excuse to get off the phone. But Navie’s words niggle at my brain, and I take a deep breath instead.

  Imagining Mom not seeing me as the fixer of her problems, but being grateful to have me as a resource, I try a different approach.

  “How are things with you?” I ask. “Do you need anything?”

  She doesn’t answer me for a long moment. So long, in fact, that I pull the phone away to see if she’s still there.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since anyone's asked me that?” she asks.

  “Yeah, well, I’m trying a new approach to life tonight. Just testing it out.”

  “I … I don’t need anything, Dylan. But thanks for asking.”

  The sound of her voice—relief, maybe? Appreciation, possibly?—makes me feel warm. I grin.

  “You’re welcome. I need to go though, okay?”

  “Sure,” she says. “Just don’t forget that money.”

  “Okay. I won’t.” I pause. “Love you, Mom.”

  “Yeah. I love you, kiddo.”

  The line goes dead.

  I sit back down and tuck my phone under the blue pillow. I rest my head against it.

  Navie’s words float back through my mind as the stillness of the apartment takes hold. Molly isn’t your competition. You are your competition.

  I mull that over, tossing it around and around. Even when I close my eyes, I can’t stop her words from bouncing inside my skull.

  If she’s right, I’m not only my own competition, but I’m also my own worst enemy.

  I sigh. My entire body hurts. I curl up in a ball on the sofa and try to go to sleep.

  Thirty

  Peck

  “Take it easy,” Walker shouts across the bay. “For fuck’s sake, Peck. You’re gonna tear everything we got up if you don’t stop your bullshit.”

  It’s funny that he thinks I care.

  I was up all night. I didn’t even go to bed. My linens still smell like oranges, and I just couldn’t handle it. Not without Dylan in bed with me.

  It took four hours to decide if I wanted to call her or not. I mean, I wanted to call her. Hell, I wanted to go find her and bring her home with me. But she left. She wanted to. I begged her to stay, and she didn’t. But I called her because I’m a fucking idiot, and her phone went straight to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message because I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to be a stuttering fool—more of a fool than I already am.

  “You’re lucky I’m even here today,” I bark.

  I take a hammer and whack the rim in front of me.

  “I’m lucky?” Walker yells over my second strike of the hammer.

  “Yeah.”

  His laugh is more of a rumble than anything. It means one thing—he’s pissed. Well, good, motherfucker, because I’m pissed too.

  Walker throws down the cutting torch in his hand and stalks across the shop. I consider that maybe this is the universe’s way of taking care of my problems.

  Death by Walker Gibson.

  I hit the rim for the third time.

  There are worse ways to go. At least that would let me go out with a little dignity.

  I miss her. Fucking hell, I miss her. I’m so helpless to fix this, and the knowledge of that binds me up. I feel like I can’t move. I can’t go. I can’t think or process or figure a way out of this maze.

  “Seriously, Peck. What the fuck?”

  “What the fuck, what?”

  He snatches the hammer right out of my hand. “I watched you do this all morning, and I’ve had it. Either talk or walk.”

  “Oh, look. You’re trying to be funny,” I say.

  He scowls. “I’m not trying to be funny. I’m trying to save your life.”

  “You should be sure someone wants saving before you go playing hero.”

  His eyes narrow and his jaw tenses as he tries to bend me to his will. Usually, I’d cut a joke right here and end up annoying him, and he’d go back to whatever he was doing and leave me alone. Today, though, I’m not in the mood for cutting jokes.

  I just lost my girl.

  Sure, she said we were just getting space. But this space feels like a fucking universe. I don’t like it. I hate it. And I can feel the depths of the divide between us, and I know it’s not going to close.

  The door to the office opens and in walks Vincent and Sienna. They exchange a grin as they see Walker and me ready to square off.

  “Take it easy, boys,” she says. “What’s happening in here?”

  “I’d love to know,” Walker says, staring me down.

  I don’t answer either of them.

  Vincent leans against a work table and slides his sunglasses off his face. He hooks them in the front of his shirt.

  “If I were a betting man, and I do love me some gambling,” Vincent says, “I’d bet my brother here is having girl problems.”

  I consider testing my brother’s mettle these days and throwing a solid right hand. But if I do, Walker will get involved, and we’ll all die.

  Sienna puts a hand on Walker’s bicep. Instantly, he relaxes.

  “Peck, what’s going on?” she asks. “Can I help with anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, cut the shit. What did lover girl do?” Vincent shrugs when I send him a death glare. “What? I didn’t fuck her. I don’t care what you heard.”

  My right hand isn’t fast enough. Walker’s hand clasps around my forearm, and he jerks me around in a circle to face him.

  “Wanna fight?” Walker asks. “Let’s fight.”

  “Walker …” Sienna sighs.

  “I don’t want to fight you, Walk. I wanna fight him.”

  “You sure about that?” Vincent raises a brow. “You wouldn’t stand a chance. And I was kidding about fucking her. You know that. Chill out.”

  I give him my most befuddled look. “Really? Pretty sure I can take a guy who wears a button-up shirt with fucking flamingos on it.”

  “This shirt is cool.” He lifts a piece of the fabric and lets it billow back to his body.

  Sienna waves her hands in the air. “Okay. Enough of the pissing match. What is happening? Are you having lady problems, Peck?”

  “Yeah. He’s on his period,” Vincent jokes.

  “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

  He just laughs.

  “Okay,” I say, turning to Sienna. “I need advice. Wanna give me some?”

  “Sure. What’s going on?”

  I walk around the shop bay, circling wide so as not to get into Walker's or Vincent’s spheres. While I don’t think either one would try to shoot a double-leg on me, I’m not that sure—not sure enough to get in their line of fire.

  “So I have this girl. Dylan. She moved in with me as friends, and I don’t know. She just … stole my fucking heart, Sienna. Yes, we slept together, but it was more than just fucking. And you know … I like her a lot.”

  More than a lot. I love her.

  “That’s great,” Sienna says.

  “Yeah, except she thinks … I don’t even know what she thinks. She moved out yesterday and said she thinks we need some space and that she couldn’t compete with Molly, which is stupid …” I sigh. “What the fuck do I do, Sienna?”

  Walker steps between us. His hands are out to the sides. “Let me take this one.”

  “I don’t have time for your bullshit,” I say.

  He faces me, and the annoyance at my antics from moments ago is completely gone. All I see is a sincere d
esire to offer advice—advice that’ll likely suck ass, but at least he cares enough to offer it.

  “Okay, Walker,” Sienna says. “Go for it.”

  “This I gotta hear,” Vincent chimes in.

  Walker smiles. “First of all, tell me in the quick notes version how Molly is involved.”

  “She’s not. I mean, she came by the house, and I told her not to. That she needed to stand on her own two feet.” I look over my shoulder at my brother.

  He grins. “Great advice, bro. Sounds like a genius gave you that.”

  I laugh.

  “Okay. Got it,” Walker says. “Listen to this, Slugger,” he says to Sienna, then returns his focus to me. “So Molly knows that you like Dylan. You told her basically that you chose Dylan over her. Right?”

  I nod.

  “But Dylan doesn’t know that.”

  “No, she does. I told her that. I told her she was my number one.”

  Walker chuckles. “Man, you gotta make shit crystal clear. Like crystal fucking clear.” He doesn’t flinch when Sienna sticks her elbow in his side. “You have to spell this out for Dylan. Tell her you’re an open book. That you want her—be explicit about it—that you want her to live with ya, if that’s what you want. That you love her. Just like that. I love you. Three words. Look her in the eye.”

  “Aw,” Sienna says. “That’s great advice, baby.”

  “I know.” He grabs my shoulder and shakes it. “You probably think, ‘Man, Walker. I did that shit.’ But I guarantee you that if you had done it just like I said, she’d be back. If, you know, she likes you.”

  “So I haven't been clear enough?” I ask.

  Vincent shoves off the table and walks our way. “Nah, I think he’s right. I’m not really one for females who need a lot of coddling. I don’t coddle. But I do see what he’s saying because women do need that confirmation that they’re wanted. I mean, I don’t get it, but it’s true.”

  Sienna wraps an arm around Walker’s waist and leans her head on his side.

  “Women need to feel like they have a purpose in the relationship,” Sienna says. “We need to be needed. We also want to be seen, and last but not least, we want to feel safe in the confines of that situation.” She looks at me and smiles. “I bet if you think about it long enough, you’ll figure out what you need to do.”