Crank (The Gibson Boys 1)

“I’ll try. Thanks for answering.”

“Always. Goodnight.”

“Night, G. Night, Linc.”

“Love ya, sis.”

I hang up, set my phone on the bedside table, and roll myself up in the covers and try to go to sleep.

I DON’T EVEN BOTHER to turn on the light.

Sitting in the living room, the darkness surrounding me, I close my eyes and feel my world still crumbling. Sienna wasn’t anywhere. I drove by her house, Crank, even Nana’s, and nothing. Her phone is off, but I left so many texts and voice messages I wonder if it’ll even turn on or just melt down when she tries.

I’ve exhausted myself. Every muscle in my body aches, every joint flaring from the adrenaline that shoved through my body for so long tonight. But now it’s gone. Just like Sienna.

Tugging at my hair, I lift my head towards the ceiling and try to think of something other than the way she looked at me on the grass. Like her heart was broken. Like I’m some kind of monster. Like I did this to her on purpose.

This is heartbreak. As I sit in the unlit room, the organ in my chest responsible for pumping blood to my extremities is actually splintered. I can feel each piece puncturing me from the inside out. I’ve never felt this fucked up over anything outside of the death of my parents. And, just like that situation, I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.

“Fuck,” I hiss, tugging once more just to feel the pain before dropping my hands into my lap.

My face feels swollen, my hands achy from being clenched all night. I just want to close my eyes and sleep.

In the quiet, as the rest of the town is tucked happily in their beds, everything kind of settles. Like dust after the wind stops, everything finds its resting spot as I sit alone. Heaps of emotions, piles of mistakes, loads of truths that should’ve been shared aren’t enough to fill the void that Sienna has created.

I should’ve told her. I knew it then and I know it now, but how could I? How could I tell her I wanted her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in the universe, but another woman legally has my last name?

Does that make me selfish? Probably. But I did try to stay away from her and keep my distance. I tried so damn hard to not get involved so I didn’t hurt either of us, but I couldn’t.

And I couldn’t tell her the truth because that would ruin everything.

She wouldn’t want to be with a married man, even though I haven’t seen Tabby in years. Even though I didn’t care enough about her when she left to chase her down to sign the papers.

Headlights turn up the driveway. Leaping to my feet, I race to the window to see a little compact car pulled up next to my truck and Tabby walking up the steps. She knocks once, then twice. Not sure of myself, not positive I can rein in my emotions, I wait to see what happens before opening the door.

“Walker, it’s me. Open up.”

Her voice is so odd. It takes me to days at the lake, planning a family, our wedding on that same lakeshore. What’s even more odd is that I feel absolutely dead about it all.

I pull the door open and see her for the second time in years. She looks a little older, still incredibly pretty, her green eyes taking me back to so many years ago.

“Hey,” she says, feeling me out.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Walker . . .”

I step onto the porch, shutting the house behind me. “What are you doing here, Tab?”

“I . . . I don’t know, really.”

My gaze settles across the front yard illuminated by the moon, to the spot Sienna and I had discussed putting a hammock. My chest feels like it’s caving in and I jump, blasted out of my thoughts, when Tabby speaks.

“It’s been a long time.” She leans on the railing. “Your place is nice. I had to ask around to see where you lived. Imagine my surprise when I pulled up to our house and realized we didn’t live there anymore.”

I’ve waited for this conversation since the morning she walked out. This is the moment in time I’ve envisioned, when I tell her what an idiot she is, that I hand her the divorce papers Blaire had drawn up way back then and demand she sign them.

This is when I tell her I never loved her, that I knew she was sleeping around, and that I didn’t even care enough to go after her. This is the moment I tell her what a bitch she was to leave me when I was dealing with the loss of my parents, that I throw in her face that the shop is still doing well despite her insistence it wasn’t a way to make a living.