Cross (The Gibson Boys 2.5)
“Okay,” she says like I’ve lost my mind. “What makes you happy? Let’s start there.”
“I don’t know.”
Her hands go in the air as she laughs. “I quit.”
“Good,” I say, partially relieved and partially wishing she’d press the issue for once.
“Let’s go get milkshakes.”
“Fine. But you’re buying.”
Cross
I add a scoop of protein powder to the blender, put the cap back on, and press the button. It whirls, the contents of the glass container smashing around with no fucks given, kind of like my brain. It’s like a box full of noisy items in the hands of a toddler. Everything is banging around.
Busying myself with pouring the drink into a cup, I whistle as I work. The house seems so quiet. Too quiet, even, to do the usual bookkeeping for the gyms or research exercises as I usually do. It’s too quiet for anything.
I lean against the counter and take a gulp of my drink. The glass leaves a dampness on my palm, the remaining ice chunks rattling around in the mixture. I hold it to the light and laugh. It’s light grayish in color just like my favorite set of eyes.
Damn it.
The cup hits the counter with a thud.
“What are you gonna do now?” I ask myself. “’Cause you’re gonna have to do something.”
Rolling my shoulders around, trying to work out the stress captured at the base of my neck, I head into the living room toward the sound of my ringing cell phone. “Hello?” I ask.
“Hey, big brother,” Hadley chirps through the line. “How are you?”
“All right. What are you up to?”
She sighs. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Why?” I ask. I watch as the neighbor’s kids kick a ball back and forth on the other side of the road.
“I hear it in your voice. You’re … blah.”
“I’ve never been described as blah.” I laugh.
“You have now.” She giggles. “So, what’s up?”
The ball goes back and forth. The little girl rockets it across the lawn and the boy misses, his leg sweeping right over the top before he falls to the ground.
I feel for him. I have half a notion to head over there and help him up and give him some advice on being ready for the hardest shot. To always protect yourself. To never let your guard down.
Especially with girls.
“Kallie is in town.” I say it as easily as I can, as if it’s no big deal that the girl I’ve been torn up over for years has reappeared. My sister, though, doesn’t need all the bells and whistles to signal an issue. She knew Kallie. She knows me.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” she mutters.
“That would make two of us.”
“Have you seen her? Like, just the two of you?”
“Yeah.”
“And? How’d it go?”
As the little boy gets back to his feet by way of a proffered hand from the little girl, I turn away from the window. “It went better than I expected in some ways and a little worse in others.”
Hadley pauses. “How is she?”
“Good. Beautiful. What else can I say?” I sigh. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“It’s never easy to see someone you love—or loved,” she adds quickly. “There’s always that feeling of what could’ve been.”
“Talking about Machlan?” I tease.
“No, I’m not talking about Machlan,” she mocks … and lies. “I know what that would’ve been. A big, ridiculous mess.”
“Sure about that?”
“Absolutely.”
With a snort at how confident she doesn’t sound, I head back toward the kitchen. My stomach rolls the protein shake over. It has nothing to do with the ingredients, though, and everything to do with the topic of conversation.
I’ve been with a number of women since Kallie left. A lot of them, really. And at the end of the night when they’d leave my house or I’d pull on my jeans and leave theirs, I’d do one thing immediately: take a shower. The smell of a woman on my skin drove me insane. It didn’t matter how hot she was or how much I did or didn’t like her, she didn’t belong on me. It was like my skin itched with the scent of her until I sent it down the shower drain.
I’d kill for Kallie’s shampoo to be on my shirt. Her perfume mixed with my body oils, her kisses lingering on my skin.
The more I think about it, the more panicked I get. I want it too much. Hell, I’ve always wanted it. I’ve always wanted her. And now that she’s here and I realize nothing has changed in that regard, it’s scary as fuck.
“Hadley? Let me ask you a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Let’s pretend for one second that Machlan’s not Machlan.”
“Yeah right.” She laughs.
“No, really. Play along.”
She groans. “Fine.”
“What if you were the problem between you and a guy—”
“It’s Machlan’s fault,” she interrupts immediately.
“But this isn’t Machlan …”
“Oh, yeah. Continue.”
Laughing, I wipe my hand over my face. “Okay. This guy, not Machlan, and you were together. And it was your fault. And now he’s back and he’s giving you the time of day, which you didn’t expect, and all you can think about is getting him back. But you—”