Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

I probably already have.

I rub the corners of my eyes. My heart aches when I think about him. I try to think about things from his perspective, and I think I might puke.

My breathing shallows as what has to be adrenaline shoots through my veins. My hands pat the seats next to me in a steady rhythm as my brain begins to rapid-fire a series of feelings and ideas.

Even though I told him we just needed some space, it doesn’t feel like that. I know it can’t feel like that to him either. He must feel like I walked out on him and left him.

Because that’s what I did. But it’s not what I really meant.

I was scared, and like Navie just said, fear makes a mockery out of you.

Maybe that’s what happened to Jessica too. Maybe she was scared. I don’t know what of, but maybe that’s why she could leave her two sweet boys behind.

He deserves better than that for once. He deserves better than that … from me.

The idea of doing that, of being there for Peck makes me happy. Being the strong one, the forgiving one, the one he knows he can come home to and be safe—that concept makes tears well in my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he’s like my mom too. Maybe no one has asked him if he needs anything. He’s always given. Been kind. Forgiving. Maybe no one’s asked him what he wants. Who he wants. And maybe, just maybe, that could be me.

It feels absolutely, positively right. Because not only does he deserve that, but so do I.

I ignore Navie’s curious look as I stand. Thoughts are coming so quickly that moving seems to help make them easier to process.

I think of Charlie and the few men who came before him. Of my mother and Koty and Reese and even my relationship with Navie. In all those, without knowing it, I waited on someone to save me. I gave them the power to either make me happy and fulfilled and accepted … or to pass.

Maybe I’m the hero of my story.

Or at least, maybe I’m the co-writer of a tale as old as time, of a woman and a man who have all kinds of fears and bruises but come together to work them out.

I know. Suddenly, I know. This is what love feels like.

It wasn’t the lust and desperation I felt toward Charlie. It wasn’t the intense crushes I had on men before him. And it wasn’t the way I felt when I met Peck under that stupid truck or the way I felt when we burned the steaks.

This is love. It’s the moment when I realize just how bumpy this ride might be. It’s when I accept that I’m all kinds of bruised up, and he has scars deeper than I can see … and I still want to take his hand and navigate the waters with him. Even though his scars and my bruises together might make for some waves. And storms. And asteroid collisions. It’s still worth it. It’s still preferable even with the fear rolling around my stomach.

“I’m in love,” I whisper.

Navie grins. “I know.”

“No,” I say with a nervous laugh. “This isn’t an infatuation or a crush or just not wanting to be alone. Or even just not wanting to sleep on that couch again.”

She laughs.

“I love him, Navie. Like I love him like Nana loves Pops.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

My heart fills with a contentment that I’ve never experienced. It assuages some of the sharp edges of being scared and lets me know this is the right answer.

“This is what they mean when they say, ‘When you know, you know.’”

“Good. Now I wanna know what you’re talking about.”

I grin.

Navie stands and adjusts an elastic in her hair. “So what do we do with this revelation?”

“I’m not sure …”

I wonder where he is and what he’s doing. I could call him, for sure, and I want to. I need to hear his voice.

But he deserves more than that. And that’s what I’m going to give him.

“Can you do me a favor?” I ask carefully.

“Sure.”

I grin. “I have an idea …”

Thirty-Two

Dylan

“Change of plans,” Navie says through the phone.

“What do you mean, ‘Change of plans’? We can’t change the plan now.”

My voice is borderline frantic. Change the plan? No. We can’t. Not now.

Oh, shit.

I look ahead at the couple nearing the door to Crave.

She wasn’t kidding.

The bar.

Machlan’s bar.

At nine o’clock at night.

“Navie, this idea just got seriously out of hand,” I groan. “Um, is Machlan there?”

“Yes. That’s not the problem. The problem is … well, I can’t tell you the problem. But—”

“Okay, I’m cutting you off because this is way more important than whatever you were about to say.” I gulp. “Nana is walking into the bar.”

“What?” she squeaks.

“Yeah.”

“What bar? You mean, like, the prescription counter at the pharmacy, right?”