Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

All night, I wished I could’ve stayed. It was like hanging out with Walker’s girl, Sienna, or Machlan’s girlfriend, Hadley. Being around both of them feels like being with family. Like I can say or do anything without it being held over my head—in a bad way, anyway. My family roasts me for years over every stupid thing. At least I know they care.

Dylan is like that. But more … exciting.

“Hey,” I say, turning to face her.

Her eyes lift to mine. “Yeah?”

“I have an idea.”

“Please tell me you just thought of a place to rent for cheap that isn’t filled with animal fur.”

“Maybe I have.”

She perks up. “Really?”

“Maybe …”

This could be a terrible idea. It’s probably a terrible idea.

I try to talk myself out of saying what I’m about to say because … well, because of a lot of things. Because of that old saying not to fix what’s not broken. Because she’s so pretty. Because it would be an invasion of my personal space, and I’d be asking her to do it so I can’t even get mad when it happens.

Don’t do it, Peck …

“So I know a one bedroom, one bath,” I say in a rush before I start listening to myself. “Not that big, really, but enough room to move. Not big enough for all your stuff, but there’s a big barn out back where you could keep your stuff until you can figure out what to do with it.”

I grit my teeth as she happily receives this information.

“You do? Peck! That’s great. Where is it? Is it available? Who do I call?”

“It’s available. It’s just out of town on the other side. Near Bluebird Hill.”

“I saw a sign for that. It’s some kind of outdoors area or something?”

I nod. “That’s it.”

She looks at the house and then back at me. “Do you know how much the rent is? I was paying four hundred dollars a month for this place, and that was about the top of what I can do.”

“I think it’s less.”

“That would be perfect.” She scratches her leg again. “Who do I call?”

Rocking back on my heels, I look at the ground. “Me.”

She sighs in frustration. “Don’t mess with me, Peck. I seriously need to find something.”

“And I seriously have a room you could stay in.”

I look up at her. There are equal parts of hope and suspicion in those green orbs, but I get it. I feel the same way.

A part of me is excited at the thought of having her around to joke with for a few days. But a part the same size is worried this might be all kinds of fucked up. But now that I’ve already spilled the beans, I have to ride it out.

“I can’t stay with you,” she says.

“Should I take that personally?”

“No,” she says with a grin. “But I barely know you. It would be super careless to move in with you.”

“I was using the words ‘stay with me’ because it sounds way less permanent than ‘move in with me,’” I say. “I don’t mean forever. I just mean while you figure this out.”

Her face falls. “This isn’t your problem.”

“I’m aware of that. But if someone has a need and you can supply the fix, you should. I have a room and a bathroom that never gets used. And a big ole barn out back that’s pretty much empty. You’re looking for both those things.” I smirk. “Or you can pile your things in Navie’s apartment, and the two of you can sleep outside. Up to you.”

She narrows her eyes. “Are you serious-serious?”

“As serious as I’m gonna get.”

“Do you sleepwalk?” she asks.

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Do you eat a lot of beans?”

I laugh. “You’re gross.”

“I lived with a guy once that loved them, but they didn’t love him back, and I’d rather not do that again if I have the choice.”

“Well, then, I’ll explicitly ask for no beans, no guacamole when I go to Peaches and get Mexican.”

Her brow furrows. “Peaches for Mexican? That makes no sense.”

“Tell me about it.”

She rubs her forehead again as she walks in a small circle. She stops to look at the house before turning on her heel and facing me again.

“I guess it won’t hurt anything since you’re in love with Molly,” she says.

My head spins with that announcement. Molly? What the fuck does she have to do with anything, and how does she even know about her?

“What? What do you know about Molly?”

“That you love her.”

She says it carefully, testing the sound of the words in the air. Each syllable is enunciated, broken out by a thoughtful tongue.

Leaning back, she waits for my response. It’s one I don’t want to give her.

Molly and my feelings toward her are complicated.

She’s been a constant in my life—more so than anyone even knows. I don’t bother to explain it to them because it’s none of their business, for one. And, for two, they already have their mind made up about her.