Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

We reach Molly’s car and stop. She looks up at me with mascara streaks painted down her cheeks.

“Are we still friends?” she asks.

“I told you a long time ago that I’ll always have your back. And I will. But I’m not the same person I was a month ago.”

“Do you think she’s changed you that much?”

“No. I don’t think she’s changed me. I think she’s shown me things about me and about life. She’s given me hope, you know?”

“I need someone to give me hope.”

“You work on you. Stop worrying about everyone else and looking for someone else to validate you, Mol. Use that power you have for good instead of evil.”

We exchange a smile.

“Thanks, Peck.”

“Anytime.” I start toward the house but stop. “No. Wait. Not anytime.” I face her. “Real quick—I’ll always be your friend, but we gotta have some boundaries.”

“I don’t do well with those.” The corner of her lip turns toward the sky. “I’m kidding.”

“Just … no coming by here unless you’re running from zombies. And probably shouldn’t text or call, you know? And Dylan is a great girl.”

“I’m good with all this, but can we leave off that last part?” she jokes.

I think.

“It would serve you well to make friends with her,” I say.

She opens her car door and climbs in. “I’m sure your girlfriend wants to be my friend.” She rolls her eyes.

“You never know.”

“Yeah. See ya later.”

“Bye.”

I head back toward the house. I hear her car door shut and the engine start, followed by the tell-tale sound of gravel crunching as she backs out.

I don’t look back.

The front door is partially open, and I step inside. “Dylan?” I walk through the house until I find her standing in her bedroom. Not mine. “What’s going on? What about the movie?”

“I got tired.”

“Oh.” I look around. She’s pulled her blankets down like she’s preparing to climb inside. “You sleeping in here tonight?”

“I didn’t want to go to your room without you.”

That makes sense, but I don’t like it.

“We could bring some blankets into the living room and turn the movie on,” I say. “Wanna?”

“I’m not really in the mood.” She blows out a breath. “I guess seeing you walk outside to talk to another woman kind of fucked up my energy flow or something.”

I reach for her. She lets me take her hand and pull her against me. I wrap my arms around her as tightly as I can and nuzzle my face into her hair.

“You could’ve come out there with me,” I say.

“I know. I’m just … jealous.”

The thought makes me smile. I’m a total dick. “Well, so you know, because it’s important to me that you do know—I told her not to come by. Or call. Or text. Or be a jerk to you or anyone else, actually.”

I feel her smile against my chest. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

I lean back and brush the hair out of her face so I can see into her eyes. I feel it again, stronger than ever. It’s that rush of comfort, of being perfectly content with your life. With your partner.

With the woman you love.

“What?” she asks. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

“But …”

I tug her hand and guide her to my room.

To our room.

I just have to figure out how to make that happen.

We climb in bed. She snuggles up against me, her hand flat against my heart.

“Peck?”

“Yeah, Hawkeye?”

“I didn’t like it when you left with her just now.”

“I know, and I told you that she won’t—”

“I meant, that it was different. When Charlie left me for his ex, I was angry and felt betrayed. But I don’t think I ever actually felt jealous. Is that weird?”

I think about it. “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know.” I pull her closer.

“But tonight, with you … I don’t know. It just didn’t feel good.”

I truly am a dick because that makes me feel pretty darn good. But I won’t leave her hanging. Even I have limits on dickiness.

“I know,” I say. “And every moment I was outside with Molly, I wanted to be inside with you. She saw that. She knew. She commented on it, actually.”

“She must hate me, huh?”

“Not sure, to be honest.” I kiss the top of her head. “But I did tell her that things have changed. For the better. For you.” And me.

I feel her smile against my shoulder, and nothing feels better than this moment. Dylan in my arms. In my bed. In our bed.

I gulp.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Night, Wes.”

“Night.”

It doesn’t take long before she’s sleeping peacefully.

I grab my phone and dim the light and type in, ‘How to tell someone you love them.’

Because what the hell do I know about this? Not a damn thing. I’m not even sure if this is the right thing to do.

I look down at her and smile.