She looks up. Her eyes are vulnerable yet guarded. It’s not the Dylan I know.
“Hey,” I say.
She smiles. Sort of.
“What are you doing?” I nod toward the box. “Did you carry that inside all by yourself? You could’ve waited on me to help you, you know?”
“No. I, um, well, I did. But it was empty.”
“Empty?”
I pause and look around. The suitcase in the corner is zipped up instead of propped against the wall with its contents spilling everywhere. The cup of water that’s sat by the bed since the first night she was here is gone. Her deodorant and girlie stuff have disappeared from the dresser, and the books and papers that she’s been sorting through off and on are gone.
Oh, fuck.
My throat feels too tight to pass a swallow.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
She fiddles with the lid. Her eyes avert from mine. She switches her weight from one foot to the other as she tries to avoid my question.
“Dylan?”
“Oh, well, do you remember the house I was telling you about? The one that Joanie, my new boss, told me about. I think I mentioned it to you.”
What the hell is she talking about? A house? For what? What’s it matter?
And then it hits me. Like Walker slugging me in the stomach for a joke I made at his expense, I feel like the wind is knocked out of me.
“What does that have to do with you?” I ask carefully.
She forces a swallow. “Well, Joanie messaged me today about it because I hadn’t responded to her earlier text. And she said I basically had to jump on the rental or lose it because someone else was interested.”
“What did you say?”
She looks into the box. Her face is flushed, her lips swollen, and I wonder if she’s been biting them.
Why?
“I told her I’d take it,” she says.
I grab the doorframe to keep myself steady.
She’ll take it? What the actual fuck?
My first instinct is to grab her and hold her against me and not let her go. Not let her ruin this thing between us because it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever had. But she looks at me, and a fire burns through my veins like wildfire, and I can’t move.
“Why did you tell her that?” I ask. “Do you not like it here?”
She smiles, but it’s not for me. “It was never the plan for me to stay here long term.”
“Well, it was never in the plan to have you sleeping in my bed either, but I’m not arguing that.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have been doing that either. Thank you for pointing that out.”
I raise a brow. “What happened today? I feel like I went to work with one life and came home to another.”
“I don’t know, Peck. What did happen today?”
“Nothing that I know of.”
She nods. “Well, I think it’s best that we have some space for a while. As you mentioned, I ended up in your bed awfully fast, and I think it makes a lot of sense to let things simmer for a while and see how we feel.”
“I know how I feel.” I take a step toward her. “Don’t you?”
“I do. That’s why I’m doing this.”
She makes no sense. She’s lost her damn mind. Leaving me because she wants to be with me … She never said that.
“Dylan, do you want to be with me?”
The pause is too long. The silence too deafening. The hesitation lingers in the air until I release a frustrated chuckle.
“I do,” she says. “I do. You’re … great, Peck. But I have some things I need to sort out before we go any further.”
“Like what?”
Her eyes fill with an uneasiness.
My brain trolls through every minute we’ve spent together. From the day she stormed up to the truck at Old Man Dave’s house to last night when she fell asleep in my arms, I go over it. Nothing is there that would be a straight line to this.
Except Molly.
My shoulders tighten.
“Is this about Molly?” I ask.
“Not really.”
“Molly McCarter has no bearing on us, Dylan. None.”
She stands up, her gaze fiery. “You’re right. It shouldn’t. It absolutely shouldn’t, but it does, Peck. It does. She does.” Her jaw sets. “I saw you with her today and watched you follow her out of town, and I hate the way I feel about that. It’s not me. I don’t want it to be me.”
She storms past me. Her jaw is set as she grabs one of her T-shirts off the back of a chair.
“So what? Yeah, I saw her today,” I say. “I helped her sister, Megan. Her battery died.”
“And they couldn’t have called a tow service?”
“Yeah. They could’ve. But I happened to be getting a coffee at the gas station and offered to go down there and help them. Because that’s my job. I did my job, and I came home. To you.”
She spins on her heel. “You’re right. It is your job. And they’re your friends, and you would have been a dick if you didn’t help them.”
“Yeah. I would. But if it drives you this fucking crazy, I won’t anymore. Ever again.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. She wads the shirt up and tosses it in the box.
She sits down again. It’s as if all her energy has vanished. I want to sit beside her or pick her up and put her on my lap. I want to help her, to make her better, but I’m the one she’s mad at.
I think.
A tear threatens to spill over her eyes. I reach for her, but she pulls away.
“I don’t want to be this person,” she says.
“What person?”
“This one. The girl who feels so insecure when a girl shows up that I know you don’t love. I just … it makes me feel all kinds of ways, and I hate that, Peck. It’s not good for me or you or even Molly although I can’t say she’s high on my list of priorities.” She looks up at me with tear-filled eyes. “I want to be good enough to be the love of someone’s life. The kind of love you have with the first person you fall for—that unconditional, inexplicable kind of love.”
“Dylan …”
My head spins at her admission. I don’t know what she’s saying. Does she not like the person she is when she’s with me? Does she think she’s worse for wear now that we’ve been together? Does she not believe I’m capable of love?
Am I capable of love?
“This isn’t about you,” she says softly. “Or Molly.”
“Then what’s happening right now?”
I kneel in front of her. She turns her head and looks at the wall. The sight of her so sad, so upset breaks my heart.
“Relationships are hard for me,” she says.
“I think they’re hard for me too … because you’re making it that way.”
She almost smiles. “I’ve always felt second or third or, hell, even fourth sometimes in every relationship I’ve been in. From the one with my mother to the one with my Nonna to the one with Charlie.”
“You’re first with me. You’re the only one in the game, sweetheart.”
I look at her with every bit of sincerity I can. I love her. I know it. There’s not a doubt about it. But if I tell her now, maybe she’ll just feel sorry for me. Maybe she’ll stay for the wrong reasons. Even though I’m desperate to stop this madness, I know you can’t make someone stay if they don’t want to.
I stand. This feels horribly familiar.
Closing my eyes, I’m bombarded with the words on the note Mom wrote. All I can visualize is the way her handwriting slanted to the left and got thicker in the loops. The paper. The confusion …
Vin and Peck,
Dad and I are taking a little trip. I’ll call you as soon as we get settled. I love you boys. I love you with everything in me. If you need anything, see Nana, okay? And just remember your mom loves you.
Love,
Mom
That’s. Not. What. Love. Does.
The sting hits me in the heart like it
did the day I found it after school. It’s like a scorpion stung me over and over. She loves me with everything in her, yet it wasn’t enough for her to stay with us. With me.
Why did I think I was?
Nothing hurts as bad as someone you love choosing to leave you. Not a damn thing.
My eyes open to see Dylan watching me.
The last time someone told me they were leaving and would be back, I never saw them again. If Dylan walks out of here, will the same thing happen? I would’ve scaled the moon for my mother, but it didn’t matter. Maybe it won’t matter if I promise the world to Dylan.
My heart breaks as a tear falls, trickling down her cheek. I catch it with the pad of my thumb. My eyes get watery, too, as I feel the invisible clock ticking down.
“I’m not saying that’s not true, Peck. That I’m not first with you. But I have to get to a place where I believe this thing between us is going to work.”
She’s going to leave. I see it in her eyes. The decision is over.
And I can’t stop her.
I shouldn’t.
It’s her choice to make.
“I wish you wouldn’t go,” I say. My voice threatens to break. I cover my mouth with my hand and face the wall.
“I’m not saying we’ll never see each other again. I just think we need some space.”
I’ll call you as soon as we get settled.
I nod. “Okay.”
The room seems to grow smaller by the second. I think I’m going to pass out as the walls seem to crush in on me.
I spin around and grab her box. “Is this ready?” I ask.
Her eyes go wide. She nods subtly.
“I’ll carry it out for you.” I head to the door. I stop but don’t turn around. I don’t want her to see the single tear flowing down my cheek. “Let me know if you need anything, Hawkeye. I’ll, um, I’ll give you some space to get your stuff.”
“Peck …” she calls out.
But I’m already gone.
Twenty-Nine
Dylan
I sit on the couch. Navie’s blue pillow, my favorite, sits beside me. It reminds me of Peck’s stupid beautiful eyes, so I pick it up and chuck it into the kitchen.
And.
I.
Cry.
I hate crying. It makes me feel weak. It pisses me off, and that just makes me cry more.
I’m not even sure why I’m crying. My brain tries to make sense of it, putting ideas and memories into little boxes while my heart orchestrates the rest of my body.
“Ooh …” Navie appears out of nowhere. I look up through my tears and see her standing a few feet in front of me. She places a Carlson’s box on the coffee table. “This isn’t good.”
“No,” I say, sucking up the snot that’s gathered on my top lip.
“You sounded so much better on the phone.” She makes a face. “Can we go back and get that Dylan? I like her better.”
“Fuck off.”
She sits beside me and wraps an arm over my shoulder. No words are spoken. No questions are asked. The only thing put forth between us is Navie’s presence.
I miss him already. It hasn't even been thirty minutes.
I’m not strong enough for this bullshit.
“Okay,” Navie says. She slips her arm off me. “That’s enough.”
“Enough what?”
“Enough crying. And wallowing. You’re dripping snot on your shirt.” She makes a face. “I mean, really.”
I sniffle. “I’m sorry I’m not reacting in a way that’s good for you.”
“Girl, let me tell you something. This isn’t good for you either.”
“Well, I’m about ready to add to the HAS Line. That’ll be damn good for me.”
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.”<
br />
“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.
Crazy: Gibson Boys Book #4 Page 22