Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

“Peck, I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

She shrugs.

“Like, is someone messing with you? Are you afraid of the dark? Did you sleep with someone’s boyfriend? Again?”

She shoots a dirty look my way, but I’m not sorry. The question is reasonable, considering she’s come to me for advice about this very thing three times before.

She sighs. “Do you remember when you, me, and Vincent camped out behind your house? And there was that serial killer on the loose in Iowa, and Vincent had us scared that he was going to find us?”

“Yeah. I’d forgotten about that.”

“Vin came to see me today.” She smiles sadly. “After he left, I just … Things were so much easier back then.”

I nod. “They were in some ways. In others, they’re easier now.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, we control our own destiny now. Back then, we were at the mercy of our parents. Now, we could be the parents.” I grin at the thought. “We decide who is in our life and who isn’t. Where we sleep. What cell phone company we want to pay the bulk of our paychecks to.”

That gets a smile out of her.

“I’m just figuring things out,” I say. “There’s a lot I don’t know yet. But one thing I’m realizing is that life is never easy, and when you do find something, or someone, who does seem effortless, you better lock that shit down.”

My body pulls toward the house. The popcorn is probably done by now, and Dylan’s probably watching the previews.

I glance over my shoulder.

The lights are all on, and the girl I can’t get enough of is inside. She’s waiting on me, knowing I’m out here with another woman.

But the longer I sit with Molly, the more definitively I know that I don’t have real feelings for her. I never did. In the twenty-five or so years that I’ve known her, I’ve never come close to feeling what I feel for Dylan.

“You like her a lot, don’t you?” she asks.

“I do. I like Dylan a lot.”

“Do you love her?”

I stretch my legs out in front of me. The question somehow tightens every muscle in my body. But, for whatever reason, it doesn’t get an automatic no from me. I almost lean toward yes.

“You do, huh?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I say carefully.

Her eyes fill with tears. “Do you love me, Peck?”

It’s a loaded question, maybe the loaded-est question I’ve ever been asked. As I watch her struggle with reality and the tears fall down her cheeks, I know the answer.

I don’t love her. Not like she’s asking me. The way I feel about Molly is similiar to the way I feel about Sienna or Hadley—a friend that I’d take a beating for, but not one that I’d go to war for. Not like I feel about Dylan.

“That’s my answer,” she whispers.

“I’ve always cared about you.”

“But you’ve always said you love me too. Now you don’t.”

I sigh. “I do … love you, just not like I …”

I can’t bring myself to say the words to her—not before I find the courage to say them to Dylan first.

“So what happens to me now?” she asks, wiping the tears with her hands. “You’re the only person in the world who likes me.”

“Well, that’s not true. But you could attempt at being a little more likable. That wouldn’t hurt.”

“Everybody already has their mind made up about me.” She sniffles. “I don’t even think it matters what I do anymore.”

“Stop mean-mugging everyone,” I say, bumping her with my shoulder. “And taunting people. And …” I wait until she looks at me. “And show people who you are. Let your guard down a bit. Give people a chance.”

“They already hate me.”

“They don’t hate you because they don’t know you, and instead of showing them who you really are, you just feed into their assumptions.”

I look back at the house. Desperation to get to Dylan eats at me, but I know I need to have this conversation.

“I’m not like her,” Molly says. “I’m not all cheerleader-y sweet.”

“She’s not always sweet,” I joke. “But honestly, listen to me. You are better than what you show the world. Deep down inside that little black heart of yours is a girl who’s funny. And fun. And thoughtful.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Remember the time you brought me that friendship bracelet?” I tease.

“I was eight.”

“And you told me if I told anyone that you’d kill me. But,” I say as we both laugh, “it proves you got it in ya.”

“Maybe.”

“You do. I know it.”

We sit quietly, the crickets chirping around us as Molly digests my advice. I have no idea where all that came from, but I’m glad it did. I’m even more glad that she seems to be listening.

I stand, and she follows suit. We trudge our way back up the driveway. Some of the lights inside have been switched off.