Crave (The Gibson Boys 3)

“It’s true,” I say softly. “I know you think you’re a mess, and you are a lot of times, but there’s a lot of good in you, Machlan.”

He looks down and catches me watching. Rolling his eyes, he playfully shrugs me off him.

I laugh with a shrug of my own. “Anyway, that’s what I tell her in the letters.”

“Thank you for that,” he says, the easiness of the moment lost to a somberness only he and I could understand. “That’s really nice of you.”

“Well, you never know what could go in a future note,” I say, turning toward the truck.

I don’t get far. He spins me around. When I stop, I’m facing a Machlan I’ve never seen before.

There’s a levity in his features, a lightness in his eyes that seems to expand from somewhere inside him. The lines around his eyes that sort of disappear in the hazy afternoon. A dimple settles in his cheek as he narrows his eyes.

“I still don’t want to be your friend,” he says. “But I want to be something.”

“Like what?” I ask even though I’m almost too afraid to. My hopes go higher than they should, high enough that I can’t bring them back down.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just don’t want you to write me off or force yourself to pretend you’re in love with some joke of a guy just so you can cram me in some category and move on.”

I like this. I like it a lot.

A thousand pounds lighter, I smile the purest, realest smile his way. “Let’s just take the pressure off and figure out how to co-exist in whatever way that organically means. Deal?”

“Deal,” he says.

I extend a hand to shake. Instead of taking it, he slaps me on the ass, making me yelp, as he walks around me toward the truck.

“Hey, now,” I say, shaking a finger his way. “There won’t be any of that.”

“Just testing the waters, seeing what feels right.”

I climb in the truck and the engine roars to life. “That did not feel right.”

He pops it into drive but keeps his foot on the brake. “I beg to differ.” He revs the engine again. “Everything about that felt absolutely right.”

Before I can respond, before I can stop my heart from leaping out of my chest, he slams on the gas and throws me back in my seat.

Seventeen

Machlan

“Here you go,” I say, sliding the truck up against the sidewalk.

Hadley lifts the bag from Peaches onto her lap. She grabs the door handle but doesn’t pull the lever. Instead, she looks at me over her shoulder.

There’s usually a spark of fire there, either from being extremely annoyed or from an anger that’s burned hot for years. I’ll take what I see now over that.

A level of apprehension is evident. She doesn’t quite trust that I’m not going to say something ridiculous and piss her off. She’s right not to. But over top of that unease is a comfort that I would give my life to keep there.

The first time I saw this girl, sitting on the floor in Cross’s living room folding laundry, I knew I had just encountered someone my life would be twisted with forever. I was fifteen and couldn’t explain it. She was so pretty, so sweet, and her laughter was the last thing I heard going to sleep almost every night after that. But it was her strength, her refusal to put up with her brother’s shit or my smartass remarks, that really got me.

She never lost those things—she’s as beautiful, witty, and kind as ever. But she was missing that air about her that I love, that I stole. Seeing it now, even vaguely, I feel like I can breathe again.

The bag ruffles in her fingers. “I just wanna say one more thing.”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

The look in her eyes tells me it’s not for picking her up or buying her lunch.

“You’re welcome.”

She nods, biting her lip, and pulls on the handle.

“Hey, Had?”

“Yeah?” she asks. One leg dangles from the truck as she stills.

“Thank you too.”

She doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look my way, but she doesn’t have to. I get everything I need from how she rebounds when her feet hit the ground.

I watch her walk to the stairs and make it to the top. She sticks a key in the lock but stops short of going inside. Instead, she pivots slowly and looks at the truck. After a little wave, she disappears into the apartment.

It takes a lot of energy to put the truck in drive and pull away.

I take the corner around Crave and coast down Beecher Street, my thoughts still on Bluebird Hill. Normally when I let my brain wander and it unsurprisingly lands on Hadley, I end up breaking something or wanting to. Today, not so much. I almost feel … at peace.