Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

“Damn you, Peck.”

I grin, falling back into the pile of shirts stacked beside me.

Seventeen

Peck

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Vincent calls out.

I look across the parking lot of the grocery store to see my brother climbing out of his pickup truck. He slides his sunglasses off his face and tucks them into the front of his shirt.

He heads across the asphalt with a rip in the knee of his jeans that’s too straight to have been done by accident.

“You didn’t buy your jeans with a rip, did you?” I goad him.

He grins.

“Come on, Vin. You’re pussying out on me.”

He laughs, running a hand through his short hair. “They were a gift. From a very … happy woman.”

I slide my cart in the return slot and trek back to my truck.

“I just leave happy women in my wake,” he jokes. “So, really, what’s up?” He leans against the bed, his forearms resting on the rail. He toys with the handle of one of the bags. “What’s all this?”

“Nothing. Just doing a little cooking tonight.”

“This have anything to do with that hot little thing Machlan was telling me about last night?”

I unlock the driver’s side door and toss my keys in the cup holder. “When did this family turn into a bunch of gossiping assholes?”

“I dunno, but it’s better than everyone having a stick up their ass.” He laughs. “So does it?”

“Fuck you,” I say, shaking my head.

“That’s a yes. Good for you.”

A car pulls up beside Vincent. A woman who works at Carlson’s sometimes gets out. She waves at me before giving my brother a long, leisurely once-over. He nods at her in the subtlest way, as if to say, “I see you but haven’t decided if it’s worth a full nod yet.”

I sigh. “How did you even see Machlan last night? I left the bar around eleven or so, and he was still there.”

“He sent me a text after they closed, and I met him in the apartment over Crave. We just shot the shit for a while.” He fiddles with the bag again. “It’s kind of nice being back home.”

I kick at a pebble on the ground, thinking the same thing. It’s nice having him home. Sure, I have my cousins, and they’re great, but there’s a different bond between brothers.

“Where’s Sawyer?” I ask.

“Happy as a pig in shit with Nana,” he says with a laugh. “She let him have cherry pie for breakfast. Now he’s out back fixing up that treehouse in the woods. Kid won’t want to go home.” He gazes into the distance. “He’s happy here.”

“Yeah, well, what’s not to be happy about?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I get sick of everyone every once in a while.”

“I can see that.”

“It doesn’t take long to get your fill of Lance,” he jokes. “What’s that fucker doing now, anyway? I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Still teaching. Engaged to Mariah. Adopting a kid. Living the life,” I say. “I’m sure he’ll be at Nana’s for dinner after church tomorrow.”

He nods. Pressing off the truck, he runs his hands through his hair again. “I forgot about church. Shit. I don’t think I brought anything decent for me or Sawyer to wear.”

“Nana won’t care. She’ll just be glad to have you there.”

“That’s true. She’s made it very, very clear over the past twenty-four hours that she’s happy to have us here.”

“I’m sure she is. She doesn’t get to see you or Blaire enough. Speaking of Blaire, she’s coming home for a visit too I heard.”

“I haven’t seen her in forever.” He kicks at the ground, his smile faltering. “How’s Nana? Really?”

“What do you mean?”

His shoulders rise and fall as a storm brews inside his eyes. “I mean, she looks good. She is good, right?”

Concern is stretched over his face as he awaits my response. Guilt too—the regret of a grandson who hasn’t been around a lot.

“She’s okay,” I say. “We take good care of her. Have a system. I do her medicines, and Machlan takes her for her hair appointment and shopping. Walker fixes shit. Lance pays her bills. Sienna, Mariah, and Hadley help with housework as much as she’ll let them. You know how she is.” I shrug. “But … she’s getting old. You know that.”

Just saying that out loud pummels me. I never thought about a life without Nana. And then she had a heart attack and seeing her in that hospital bed struck a chord inside me that I haven’t been able to shake.

She was so pale. So … lifeless. I watched her lay there with those monitors beeping, the only thing that let me know she was alive and prayed. I told God I’d do whatever he asked of me if he just let Nana be all right.

“I worry about her,” Vincent says. “I mean, she was more like a mother to us than our own mom.”