Crave (The Gibson Boys 3)

“And Blaire is too busy for all that. Such a smart, industrious girl, she is.” She sets her glass down, the sweat along the outside creating a ring on the tablecloth. “But now I have your girls. And you’ve all picked very good girls.”

“As long as Peck doesn’t wind up with Molly,” Lance says.

Peck throws a napkin at my brother. “I’ll get her even if it takes a hundred years.”

“Your dick won’t work in a hundred years. Sorry, Nana,” Lance says.

“Stop it,” Nana says. “Let me tell you something. Things work out when they’re supposed to. I hear all the time these newfangled ideas about making things happen and forcing your way through stuff, and let me tell you, you can’t do that.”

“I might disagree,” Lance chimes in. “If you don’t press for what you want in life, it’ll never happen.”

“True. But you can press and press all day long, and if the time is not right, it won’t matter.” She settles back in her chair, wincing as she moves. “When you get to be my age, you can look back on life and see it. Things happen when they’re supposed to. You get a little distance between yourself and a situation, and you can see how if you got everything you wanted when you wanted, how wrong it all would’ve been.”

Hadley swallows. “What do you mean, Nana?”

“I wanted a baby as soon as we got married. All I’d ever wanted to be was a mother, and I couldn’t figure out why on earth God would deny me that. Now, I look back and see all the things I would’ve missed if I’d been caring for a baby then.” She smiles at some memory we can’t see. “Staying up late with my husband, talking all night. I got to know him in those years before we had the boys. Being available to travel with him when he worked for the oil company. We made so many memories going from state to state in our beat-up truck. The one we had to stop every couple of hours and add coolant to.” She chuckles. “Or when my husband, back before we were married, asked and asked me to go out on a date with him, and I refused. I was so smitten with Johnny Lindsfeld.” She laughs. “Oh, dear. I forgot about him.”

“Did you date him?” I ask.

“In a roundabout way.”

“So, you slept with him,” Lance deadpans.

Her eyes light up like a little girl. “No. Well, maybe, but that’s not the point.”

As everyone laughs and Nana gets flustered, I peek at Hadley. She’s watching Nana tell her story with rapt attention. I wonder what it’s like to be her with no family but Cross. No stories to listen to, no holidays to share traditions with.

“The point is, I learned a few things from Johnny that served me well later in life, and I would’ve missed out if I’d have dated your granddaddy right away.”

“So, he taught you how to—”

“Don’t you dare,” Nana cuts Lance off, her face flushing again. “Oh, Lance. What am I going to do with you?”

My family breaks out into a conversation about Molly again. I take Hadley’s hand and hold it on my lap, wondering if what Nana said is true. And if it is, does that mean there is hope for me?

Twenty-Six

Hadley

The truck kisses the curb and rolls to a stop. The leftovers Nana sent home with Machlan perfume the air, and I could sit here for the rest of the day and be content. Belly full. Heart fuller. If only things could stay this way forever.

Machlan’s fingers tap against the steering wheel to a tune I can’t hear. His gaze is settled off into the distance, an almost forlorn look written into his skin.

He’s been quieter since Nana got sick at dinner. Even his smiles don’t quite seem as genuine or as wide as they were before.

“Hey,” I say, resting my hand on his arm. “You okay?”

“Me? Yeah.” He pulls his gaze to me. “You?”

“Yeah.”

He gives me a half-smile, one his heart isn’t fully into. “Do you wanna take some of this food? She gave me enough to feed an army.”

“I think you asked for that much.”

“Only so Peck didn’t get it.” His smile slips wider. “I’ll share with you, though.”

“I couldn’t eat any more. I’ll pop.”

He turns the heat down, then fiddles with the radio. Taking his chew can out of his pocket, he turns it over and over in his hand.

I hate seeing him like this. Nana is so special to him. Even as a teenager, he’d check on her. Make everyone promise not to tell her about his shenanigans. Mow her lawn. Help her with her garden. I don’t know how he’ll cope if something happens to her.

“She’s going to be fine,” I say softly.