Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

My eyes open to see Dylan watching me.

The last time someone told me they were leaving and would be back, I never saw them again. If Dylan walks out of here, will the same thing happen? I would’ve scaled the moon for my mother, but it didn’t matter. Maybe it won’t matter if I promise the world to Dylan.

My heart breaks as a tear falls, trickling down her cheek. I catch it with the pad of my thumb. My eyes get watery, too, as I feel the invisible clock ticking down.

“I’m not saying that’s not true, Peck. That I’m not first with you. But I have to get to a place where I believe this thing between us is going to work.”

She’s going to leave. I see it in her eyes. The decision is over.

And I can’t stop her.

I shouldn’t.

It’s her choice to make.

“I wish you wouldn’t go,” I say. My voice threatens to break. I cover my mouth with my hand and face the wall.

“I’m not saying we’ll never see each other again. I just think we need some space.”

I’ll call you as soon as we get settled.

I nod. “Okay.”

The room seems to grow smaller by the second. I think I’m going to pass out as the walls seem to crush in on me.

I spin around and grab her box. “Is this ready?” I ask.

Her eyes go wide. She nods subtly.

“I’ll carry it out for you.” I head to the door. I stop but don’t turn around. I don’t want her to see the single tear flowing down my cheek. “Let me know if you need anything, Hawkeye. I’ll, um, I’ll give you some space to get your stuff.”

“Peck …” she calls out.

But I’m already gone.

Twenty-Nine

Dylan

I sit on the couch. Navie’s blue pillow, my favorite, sits beside me. It reminds me of Peck’s stupid beautiful eyes, so I pick it up and chuck it into the kitchen.

And.

I.

Cry.

I hate crying. It makes me feel weak. It pisses me off, and that just makes me cry more.

I’m not even sure why I’m crying. My brain tries to make sense of it, putting ideas and memories into little boxes while my heart orchestrates the rest of my body.

“Ooh …” Navie appears out of nowhere. I look up through my tears and see her standing a few feet in front of me. She places a Carlson’s box on the coffee table. “This isn’t good.”

“No,” I say, sucking up the snot that’s gathered on my top lip.

“You sounded so much better on the phone.” She makes a face. “Can we go back and get that Dylan? I like her better.”

“Fuck off.”

She sits beside me and wraps an arm over my shoulder. No words are spoken. No questions are asked. The only thing put forth between us is Navie’s presence.

I miss him already. It hasn’t even been thirty minutes.

I’m not strong enough for this bullshit.

“Okay,” Navie says. She slips her arm off me. “That’s enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Enough crying. And wallowing. You’re dripping snot on your shirt.” She makes a face. “I mean, really.”

I sniffle. “I’m sorry I’m not reacting in a way that’s good for you.”

“Girl, let me tell you something. This isn’t good for you either.”

“Well, I’m about ready to add to the HAS Line. That’ll be damn good for me.”

She rolls her eyes.

She stands and walks around the apartment. The pillow is launched from the kitchen, landing beside me. My purse is picked up off the floor and set on the table. She finds my keys in the sink and holds them in the air.

“Don’t ask,” I warn.

“Noted.”

She sets them by my purse.

“If you wanted a friend to coddle you and tell you that everything you’re doing is right, you picked the wrong friend.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not kissing your ass just because your feelings are hurt or whatever.”

I settle back on the sofa. “Of course you’re not.”

“I’m giving you the first point—Peck and Molly are beyond irritating, and he needs to cut her off.”

“He did. I think. Or so he said. But he jumped to help her again today so ….”

“Part of that is that it’s Peck. It’s in his cellular DNA to help people. He’s like a … service dog or something.”

I laugh even though I don’t feel much like laughing.

“But this is where things change.” She busies herself in the kitchen, making two glasses of tea. “You have to make some tough choices here, girlfriend.”

“I moved out. That’s a tough choice.”

She looks over her shoulder. “Okay. Noted.” She messes with a box of tea bags.

Navie’s antics aren’t what I want or need right now. Sleep is. Or whiskey. Or brambleberry ice cream.

My phone buzzes in front of me. It’s a text from my mom. I roll my eyes and silence it without even reading it.