Crave (The Gibson Boys 3)

This is why, at the end of the day, we will never work. I can’t be trusted with making her happy. Even if I try to, even though I want to, I’ll mess it all up.

There’s a rotten feeling in my gut, a disappointment that’s directed internally. It sprung as soon as I pulled my pants up. And when she didn’t ask me to come back, it gnawed at me.

“Does this lull mean you’re thinking?” Navie asks.

“What are you? Some kind of pseudo-therapist?” I ask as I pour another shot. “I don’t want to think about anything.”

“Clearly.”

This shot goes down much easier.

“Keep it up and you won’t be standing much longer either,” she observes.

“Two shots? I’m gonna be all right.”

“But are you?”

“For fuck’s sake, Navie. Yes. I’m gonna be fine. I’ve fucked shit up a hundred times, and I’ve come out okay. Trust me.” I reach for the whiskey again but reconsider. “Have some faith.”

My reflection stares back at me in the mirror above the bottles. Stress lines form around my mouth, the vein in my temple pulsing every time my heart beats.

A part of me wants Navie to hurry the hell up and get out of here so I can find Hadley. Make sure she’s okay. Apologize for being a dick. Another part of me points out that encouraging this shit with her makes me a dick, and I should really just stay away.

“Okay, want to know what I heard in all that?” Navie asks, resting her chin on her folded hands.

“No.”

“Too bad. What I heard is a whole lot of fear.”

My head falls back, the alcohol making it heavier than normal. It feels good to give in. To let the relief, what little of it there is, course through me.

“What are you afraid of, Machlan?”

“Being employee-less when I fire you,” I say, still facing the ceiling. “It’s gonna suck ass, but it’ll be better than dealing with this.”

She sighs with all the drama of a soap opera. “Okay. I’m gonna just talk frank.”

I lift my head. “You mean you weren’t?”

“Ha.” She drops her hands. “Look, you’re a nice guy and good looking, but don’t let that go to your head. You have a helluva business here. Everyone, and I mean everyone, loves you. You have a super-hot cousin who you could totally hook me up with as a signing bonus type of thing.” She grins, waggling her eyebrows. “And you also have a girl who’s so in love with you it makes me in love with your love.”

I scoff, turning away.

Hadley can’t love me. She might think she does, but she can’t. How could someone like her love someone like me, a shitshow of a guy? A guy who knocked her up when I couldn’t take care of her. A man who could never offer her the things in life that she needs.

What she wants out of life isn’t a mystery. I’ve known that since I met her: she wants the life she never had. A husband who comes home after a nine-to-five. Kids she can dote on. A stable, predictable life she can relax in for the first time ever.

I own a bar. I know what the inside of a jail cell looks like. I’m never going to be the guy the Chamber of Commerce adores or be the responsible one in any lineup you can put together.

I’ve ruined her life once. I’ll do it again. I have no faith in me.

“Have you talked to her about your feelings?” Navie presses.

“For the love of God.” I slam the shot glass down, but it’s accompanied with a chuckle. “I don’t have feelings. Okay? Let’s get that straight.”

“Oh, so you’re a liar too. Good to know.”

I want to be pissed she’s calling me out. It’s way out of line and probably setting a bad precedent. But I hired her because she has that indistinguishable charm that makes people want to talk to her—me included. Even if I don’t actually want to talk.

“Will you stop it?”

“No,” she says as though she’s insulted. “I won’t stop it.”

I slide my hands down my face again.

“Fine, fine.” Navie slides off the stool. “I’ll forget about it.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll forget all about how she watched you mix drinks and how you went straight for the table when you saw her sitting with those hotties in the dress shirts.”

My hands fall to my sides, but my fists clench. A surge of jealousy strikes again even though I now know Camilla’s brothers weren’t here for Hadley.

But I’m the one who left her upstairs.

Guilt slips in place, shoving the jealousy out of the way. The whiskey sloshes. My brain tortures me with screenshots of Hadley’s face when I told her I had to leave. I hear the sound of her voice, pretending to be strong, telling me she doesn’t expect anything from me.