Get Bucked (The Valentine Boys 4)

Chapter 7

Dear NASA, your mom thought I was big enough.

-T-shirt

Darby

My head hurt.

Like a mother.

But just because my head was hurting didn’t mean that I couldn’t read the question in Waylynn’s eyes.

“What?” I asked.

She smirked at me as she hopped into the passenger seat of my truck.

I closed the door on her and rounded the truck, waiting for her to answer me.

“I’m wondering about you and GQ,” she admitted.

GQ.

I loved that she called Gibson that.

It wasn’t often that Gibson got recognized for the faker that he was, but when it happened, it never ceased in amusing me.

See, Gibson and I had been little pieces of shit when we grew up. Both of us had our stories, Gibson’s just as bad as mine but in a different way. And where I channeled my anger into doing bad shit, Gibson channeled his anger into doing worse shit.

I hung along for the ride, and eventually both of us saw the error of our ways.

Luckily it wasn’t too late.

Unluckily, it was too late for Gibson’s younger brother.

From that point on, Gibson had made it his life’s mission to appear like a perfectly groomed, well-to-do, functional member of society. One that treated everybody right—hence the reason I said she would get paid—and never allowed anybody close in case his life went to shit again.

But, with anybody else, Gibson was an untouchable, aloof man that looked as if he was a capable adult.

He wasn’t.

He was drowning, just a lot more slowly than what we had been when we were kids.

“Gibson’s a good guy,” I said. “When we were younger, we did some questionable shit. His brother, sadly, was caught up in that questionable shit. Gibson blames himself. I blame his brother because honestly his brother was just as responsible as we were. I mean, it’s not like we took him by the hand and led him down that path. He was charging headlong into it right along with us. Where Gibson and I saw the error of our ways, his brother did not. Still hasn’t, as a matter of fact.”

She grimaced. “He’s alive?”

I nodded.

“He fried his brain,” I admitted. “Took too many drugs, fucked with the wrong person, and lost brain function because he was oxygen-deprived for too long. Now he’s in a medical facility for criminals where he practices functioning as a well- rounded adult, but fails miserably. He has impulse control issues, and does shit that most people only think about.”

“Like what?” she asked curiously.

I thought about it for a long moment, then gave her an example as I accelerated.

“Last night I thought about driving home,” I said. “But I realized that was dumb, and could kill somebody, so I didn’t. Brenton wouldn’t have done that. He would’ve driven.” I paused. “I just passed that car. I had the thought, ‘what if that car would’ve hit me head-on?’ Brenton would’ve swerved and hit the car just to see what would happen.”

She grimaced.

“What did he do to get into prison?” she asked.

I thought about not telling her the story, but decided that she needed to know.

If she was considering allowing me to move in, she should know who it was that she was moving in.

“Gibson and I were in a lot of trouble growing up,” I said. “We did some shit that we shouldn’t have. When we got out of juvie, Brenton decided to stay. Felt like his life was better spent where he was than where he could be. After his accident and getting the shit beat out of him, Gibson tried to help. Bring him home. But a few weeks after he was brought home, he decided to buy some drugs from an undercover cop. When he got caught, he was taken to jail. While in the jail cell, his lawyer came to meet with him. He must’ve had a mental breakdown because after he beat the shit out of his lawyer, he kept saying ‘I didn’t mean to.’”

She sighed.

“That’s sad.”

It was.

“He’s where he needs to be,” I admitted. “Gibson didn’t need the responsibility of taking care of his twin.”

“His twin?” she gasped.

I nodded. “That’s why I say he was right there along with us. He was our age. Had control of his own destiny. It wasn’t like we led him into the web of sin. He did it all on his own.”

She made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded suspiciously like a scoff.

“What?” I asked curiously.

“You’re telling me all of this so I won’t want you to be my roommate,” she said.

I shrugged.

What she said was true.

I didn’t think that me staying with Waylynn was the best of ideas.

In fact, I knew that it was wrong.

Despite everything, Waylynn was a good egg. Me? Not so much.

I still had to fight tooth and nail to prove myself to everybody.

Hell, getting into college had been a nightmare. And then getting my jobs? I’d had to jump through hoops.