Crave (The Gibson Boys 3)

I walk backward toward the door. “Not cool, Nana. Not cool.”

“Go.” She chuckles, shooing me out.

Peck is at the doorway when I turn around. “Go. I got this under control.”

“I owe you one.”

“Just wipe my tab.” He laughs. “Now get to Hadley before Logan does.” He holds his hands up. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding.”

I’m not.

With a spark in my step, I jog down the hall and through the double doors.

Thirty-Six

Hadley

The paragraph starts to blur. Instead of putting the reading device down and turning off the light to try to sleep, I yawn.

Sleep is unattainable. My body refuses to rest, and my brain certainly won’t shut off.

I try to re-read the chapter I’ve been on for over an hour, but it still doesn’t make sense. I don’t know what’s not to understand about a couple having dinner and falling in love, but it’s not landing.

Laying the device against my chest, the screen warm against my T-shirt, I close my eyes.

Machlan’s smiling face is what I see, the default go-to of my tired brain. There were so many new experiences today at work that I should be focusing on. That I should want to focus on. This is what I’ve wanted—to start fresh.

But I’m not. I still see him.

I wonder how long it’ll take to stop thinking of him every ten seconds. How long does it take to stop a habit you’ve had for most of your life? Probably longer than two days. Maybe even two years. But at least there’s an end in sight.

When I open my eyes, only a minute has passed.

Ripping off the blankets, I swing over the side, and my feet hit the carpeted floor. I pad through the bedroom into the darkened living room. I pause at a window and peer into the starless night sky.

Somewhere out there is Machlan. And with him is a piece of my heart I’ll never get back. I don’t even want it back. I gave it to him willingly. It belongs with him. I just have to figure out how to live without a whole heart.

“Stop it,” I chastise myself.

I step into the kitchen and flip on the light. I’m reminded of the night making grilled cheese with Mach and how he cut them into four little squares like a madman instead of in half diagonally. I can’t fight the grin that comes with the memory or the way my heart feels like it bleeds a little.

As I turn to open the fridge, a thud rumbles through the air. It’s a low-frequency sound. I almost feel it more than I hear it. My hand freezes midair as I listen.

A neighbor’s dog barks, and I’m suddenly hyper-alert. Something jingles. Shoes scrape against the concrete porch. What has to be a flower pot falling from its perch on the little stand by the front door rings out like a bell.

“Oh, my God,” I mutter.

I look through the dark living room to my bedroom. My phone is on my bedside table. My heart pounds in my chest, my breathing so quick I’m afraid whoever is lurking around can hear it.

I tiptoe to the doorway. The darkness of the living room sets off a shot of panic as I suddenly feel exposed. It’s common knowledge if you stand in the light and someone else is standing in the dark, they can see you, but you can’t see them.

I flick the light off.

The only light now comes from the little piece of glass at the top of the front door to my right. It’s an orange glow from the streetlight outside. The trees move, casting shadows through the foyer, and I tell myself not to panic. Panicked women die. I also remember vaguely to scream fire and not help because no one will help unless it’s a fire. I read that somewhere once.

As soon as my foot hits the floor of the living room, a soft knock raps against the front door. I dash into my bedroom and leap from the doorway onto the bed as if it’s a safe zone of some kind.

My heart pounds, white noise rushing by my ears. My body trembles as if I’m cold as I grab my phone off the nightstand. My finger goes to the emergency call when I look at the locked screen.

Machlan:Hey. If you’re awake, will you let me in?

Another knock rolls through the house.

My stomach flips.

I can’t breathe.

Maybe I read that wrong.

Machlan:It’s me. I’m at your front door.

Tears well despite my best efforts tonight to rein them in.

I want to run to the door and rip it open because he came. But, then again, I want to tell him to fuck off and stop this madness.

I can’t do that. Even I know that.

Machlan:Please let me in, Had.

There’s no way this is real.

I pinch a piece of flesh on the inside of my thigh. “Shit!” I hiss, shaking my leg.