Crave (The Gibson Boys 3)

Staring through the blinds at the lights below, I feel detached from reality. As though this isn’t happening. As though I’m going to wake up and the past few days will be a nightmare.

“I’m not gonna lie,” she says. “The fact you never told me broke my heart.”

I can’t look at her. I stare straight ahead and grip the arm of the chair with my left hand while she holds the right.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me something like this? Why wouldn’t you let me help you?”

I force a swallow. “It wasn’t your responsibility.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean you can’t rely on other people to help you. At least help you make the decision.” She squeezes my hand again. “The part that kills me the most is thinking of you and Hadley alone. It breaks my heart.”

Her body shakes as she cries. I stand and bend over the rail and hug her, her tears pressing into my shirt.

Tears well up in my eyes, too, as I hug her.

“I’m sorry, Nana,” I say.

She pats my back and pulls away. I hand her a tissue, and she blots her eyes.

“I called you the night I got that letter,” she says quietly. “And there was a resolution in your voice. For the first time, you sounded like a man. And I realized you were going to be okay. And you’d make sure Hadley was too.”

Her eyes are crystal clear as she watches me.

“You made the hardest decision a parent can ever make,” she says.

“I’m not a parent,” I tell her. “I couldn’t do it.”

“You don’t love that baby? Right now, your heart isn’t full of love for that child?”

I look at the ground, fighting the bubble of emotion from spilling in the room. “Of course,” I say, sounding hoarse. “Of course I love her.”

“That’s what makes you a parent, Machlan. Your love for that child. A girl?”

I nod.

“I bet she was beautiful,” she says, wistfully. “I want you to know something. You didn’t think of yourself. You didn’t take the easy road out. You put that child and what was best for her over everything else and that’s commendable.”

“It feels like the easy way out sometimes,” I admit.

“Easy? I beg to differ, sweetheart. Most people couldn’t do what you and Hadley did. You two loved that baby more than you loved yourselves. A lot of people would’ve kept the child out of pride or some sense of obligation. You made a very grown-up decision at a time when you weren’t one.”

Something stirs deep inside my gut, maybe even my soul, as I sit on that plastic hospital chair.

“Where’s Hadley now?” Nana asks.

I shake my head.

“I see. You need to fix that,” she says.

“What if I can’t?”

“You have to. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll never look at another woman like you do her. You look at her like your granddad looked at me. Like Walker looks at Sienna. Like Peck looks at a cheeseball.”

I laugh softly, before feeling the heaviness of this again. I look at my grandmother. “She told me not to call her.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she did because she’s stopped expecting anything different out of you. When’s the last time you went after her?”

I shrug, avoiding her gaze.

“She won’t come back this time, honey, unless you go get her. She’s not a little girl anymore. She’s smart as a whip. Strong. A beautiful woman and if you don’t give her something to believe in, she’ll stop trying to believe in anything at all.”

I pull my hand away. “I don’t think she’ll talk to me.”

“On the phone, probably not. And if you let her leave, she shouldn’t answer it.” She tries to point her finger at me, but the cords stop it. “Go to her. Now. What time is it?”

“It’s late,” I say. Even as I say it, I’m math-ing how much time it would take to get to Vigo and what my odds are that she’ll call the police. “What if she makes me leave?”

“Play it by ear. But if you don’t go, it’ll be the first time in your life you’ve disappointed me.”

There are so many more things I want to say. Things I want to ask. Things I want to get to the bottom of. But as I look at her and see the sparkle in her eye, I realize she needs this with Hadley as much as I do.

Or close.

“Nana,” I say, leaning over the bedside rail. “I gotta go.”

I kiss her cheek. She cups the side of my face and pats it gently.

“Tell her how much you love her,” Nana advises. “Give it all you’ve got. This is your chance. You might not get another one.”

“I love you,” I tell her. “I love you so goddamn much.”

She looks at the ceiling as a machine starts beeping. “Get out of here before you give me another heart attack with that mouth.”