Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

Because she is.

I don’t care that I haven’t really known her that long or that we’ve already kind of broken up once. Or that I still don’t know her mom’s name or what she wanted to be when she was a kid. I know what matters.

I know the sound of her feet when she’s coming to bed and how off-key she is when she’s making dinner. I can tell you how fast it will take her to reach out when she thinks I’m having a shit day and the tenderness in her eyes when she’s helping me sort Nana’s medicines on Monday evenings.

It’s been a great couple of weeks since our little performance at Crave. The me before would’ve thought I was jinxing it. I would’ve been waiting for her to get sick of things and pack up and go. But she’s already done that. She won’t do it again.

I won’t let her.

“Look who I found out front,” Vincent says, coming through the back door. Behind him is Blaire.

“We saw her last night,” Walker says. “Not impressed.”

She points a manicured finger her way. “You. Shut it.”

Everyone laughs.

“How are you all?” she asks, slipping off her jacket. “Hey, Peck.”

“Hey, Blaire.”

I watch her move through the room with an air of sophistication. It’s easy to see how she’s so successful. She commands a room. You can look at her and see how intelligent she is. And beautiful. She reminds me a lot of her mom.

She tosses her jacket on the back of a chair and slides up next to me.

“You forget how boisterous they are.” She laughs. “Wait. I’m talking to you. You’re usually the loudest one of them all.”

My gaze finds Dylan. She’s taking a pie out of the oven and chatting away with Sienna. As I watch them, I wonder if I could ever be happier than I am right now.

“Yeah, well, I’m settling down, I think,” I admit. “I’m good with being a wallflower.”

I watch as Lance comes up behind Dylan and whispers something in her ear. She turns and looks at me and starts laughing.

“Stay away from her,” I shout across the room.

Blaire laughs. “Yeah. You’re a wallflower, all right.”

“I’m working on it.” I take a sip of sweet tea. “So what are you up to these days? We haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“My job has been killing me. I had a trial that went on forever. But I won,” she says, smiling proudly.

“So you’re taking a little time off for once? Good for you.”

She does a very un-Blaire-like thing. She blushes. “I’m actually heading down to Savannah for a few days.”

“Oh.”

“I …”

“She’s fucking some guy down there,” Machlan says.

Blaire casts him a stern look.

“Are you making love? I’m sorry,” Machlan teases.

She sets her sights on her brother. “No. We are certainly fucking,” she says, enunciating the word.

Machlan curls his nose. “Well, that wasn’t as fun as I thought it was going to be.”

“You’ve said that many times over the years,” I joke.

“Change the topic,” Blaire says sweetly. “Hi, Nana.”

She walks up to our group. Grabbing Machlan’s arm, she grins so wide I think her face might split in two.

“Can someone please go rescue Dave from Walker?” she asks.

We all glance over at the couch. Walker and Dave sit on each end. Neither are talking. And when Dave starts to stand, Walker fires him a look, and he sits back down.

“I think Walker has it under control,” I say.

Nana sighs.

“You know what? I don’t want to hear it,” Machlan says. “You always want to give us advice, which we take and that probably saves our lives. But this is Walker’s way of giving Old Man Dave some advice.”

I snort. “His style is very …”

“Formidable,” Blaire chimes in. “But honestly, Nana. He looks like a nice man. Just be sure that you’re—”

“We’re using protection, thank you,” she says. “This isn’t our first rodeo.”

Blaire’s face drops, and Machlan and I … die.

“Nana. Nana. No,” I say, not sure whether to laugh or gag.

“I’m out.” Machlan shakes his head and goes out the back door.

I pat Nana on the arm as I walk away. “We’ll talk later, Blaire.”

Dylan walks toward me. Her hair was down when we got here, but it’s on the top of her head now. I spread my arms, and she falls into my chest.

I hold her, kissing the top of her head, and consider just standing like this through dinner. We don’t need to eat. Or talk to people. Or do anything but this.

“I love you,” I tell her.

“I love you.”

Sawyer stops beside us. “Hey, Uncle P.”

“Yeah?”

“So Nana has a boyfriend.”

“It looks like it.”

“Does that mean …” He gives me a look like only a son of Vincent could. Raised brows. Shit-eating smile. Naughty look in his eyes.

I laugh. “Ask your dad.”

He pouts. “He won’t give me accurate information. He tells me we’ll talk later. When I have hair on my balls.”