Crave (The Gibson Boys 3)

“What do you want?”

“I’m just taking your cues.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yeah, well, that question sounds a whole lot bigger than where I want to sleep.” He looks at me before shaking his head and disappearing back in the closet.

A yawn comes out of nowhere. I stretch overhead, too tired to spar with him anymore. My bottom sinks into the soft mattress. Blinking back the tears that spring with another good, deep yawn, I lie back on the soft blankets.

Everything smells like him. It’s like being in a cloud of Machlan, and it’s the most comfortable I’ve been in forever.

Rolling on my side, my knees to my chest, I let my eyes fall closed.

The sound of a blanket being dropped whispers through the room. My head is so tired, so calm, I can’t open my eyes to see what Machlan’s doing.

Every second that goes by, the farther I fall into the abyss.

The bed dips. I feel a warmth settle over me like a blanket is tugged over my body.

I barely hear it when Machlan’s voice whispers, “You look really pretty tonight.”

“You make really good grilled cheese …”

I wonder if I’m dreaming, or if he’s really there.

If it’s a dream, maybe I won’t wake up.

Twenty-Four

Machlan

Bacon.

My eyes open one at a time.

The house smells like bacon and eggs.

The light is too bright for eleven on a Sunday morning.

I’m on the wrong side of the bed.

My head twists on the pillow I only use when I pull it against me in the middle of the night, and I remember why—Hadley.

Glancing at the clock, I realize I’ve missed church. I only fell asleep a couple of hours before services would’ve started. After picking Hadley up and laying her under the covers, I stretched out and watched her sleep because I sure couldn’t.

This is a blessing and a curse. It’s like the time Blaire sent me a bottle of a particular Kentucky bourbon you can’t ever find. It’s top-shelf stuff that masks the alcohol content with big splashes of vanilla and caramel. Drinking it is like a gift, but the hangover the next day is akin to hell.

Sleeping in the same bed as Hadley is a present. Having her leave today will feel like I’ve been robbed of everything I actually give a damn about. Because fuck if I don’t.

It’s really, really hard to keep my distance. It’s so easy with her. She knows everything about me, knows how to talk to me and when to joke around and when to let it be. If God asked me to design a woman for myself, I’d just point at Hadley and say, “Yeah, you already did.”

It never gets easier to realize you can’t take care of someone like they need. That you’ll inevitably embarrass them or fail them in ways you haven’t imagined yet. That fear sits in my core, positioned in a place it gets rubbed every time I start to get comfortable with Had. It reminds me how sick it feels to look in her eyes and see disappointment.

My phone rings, and I have to dig under my pillow to find it. When I see who it is, I hit the green button and say a quick prayer for help.

“Hello?” I ask.

“I’ll have you know, young man, that you were the only grandchild of mine with your behind not in a pew this morning,” Nana says.

“I’ll have you know, young lady, that I’m not sorry.”

“Machlan Daniel—”

“Nana. I’m kidding,” I say, smoothing my hair back off my face. “I have a good reason.”

“There are very few reasons good enough to miss Jesus.”

A long bang comes from the kitchen. Hadley issues an expletive loud enough for me to hear.

Throwing the blankets back, I sit up on the edge of the bed. The floor is cool under my feet, the air chilly on my naked torso.

“I had company last night,” I tell my grandmother.

“Company, huh?” She pauses. “Is that company fit enough to come to my house for dinner?”

The feel of Hadley’s thighs in my hands last night and her arms wrapped around my neck has me getting hard. “Oh, she’s fit all right.”

Nana scoffs. “That’s not what I mean, sir.”

“Are you implying my house guest might be a one-night stand?” I gasp. “I’m insulted.”

“Now, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re Lance’s brother. The concept of a one-night stand is not new or insulting.”

I chuckle. “When did you get so savage?”

“I don’t know what that means, but I want you over for dinner.”

Reaching my free hand over my head, I feel my muscles stretch. A rumble flows from my stomach as I move, and the scent of bacon gets stronger. It rumbles harder when I think about taking Hadley with me to Nana’s.

I’m not sure I could handle it.

My brothers take their girlfriends to dinner every week while Peck and I sit together like two losers with no dates. It used to not bother me—Hell, it felt easier being alone. But lately, it feels like something is missing, and no matter who I think about inviting over just to fill a spot, it doesn’t feel right.