by Jill Shalvis
“I feel like he was just offering you a refill, not counseling,” Gavin stage-whispered.
“Food’s getting cold,” Emmitt said, and everyone started eating.
Cam was impressed. He had no idea his dad could command a room without trying.
Halfway through eating, Gavin cleared his throat and looked at Piper. “I know you think I’m in trouble and shouldn’t overextend myself, but I do better when I’m productive. I’ve decided I’m going to hire myself out to build websites on the side.”
“You’ll have to schmooze and wine and dine people,” Winnie said. “Not exactly a smart idea for a recovering druggie.”
“Says the teenager who’s pregnant,” Gavin retorted. “And when exactly did that seem like a stellar idea to you, huh? I mean, it’s right up there with that time you tried to trap a pile of ants with peanut butter, and then thought you could still eat the peanut butter.”
“Hey, I was four,” Winnie said. “Don’t even get me started on the stupid things you’ve done.”
“She’s got you there,” CJ said into his mug of coffee.
Gavin rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“And also,” Winnie said to the room, “I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m twenty.”
“Pass the syrup,” Piper said.
CJ tossed her the squeeze bottle. “Nice refereeing.”
“Not my first time.”
They ate. They laughed over Gavin’s recounting of his adventure to the grocery store via Uber, with a driver who wanted fashion advice since everyone knew gay men were “fashionistas.”
“Did you tell him that your gay fashion sense was broken?” CJ asked with a straight face, as they all eyed Gavin’s Hawaiian board shorts and surf-shop T-shirt that had seen better days a decade ago.
Winnie then told everyone she’d fixed the downstairs bathroom’s plumbing with Gorilla Tape, and had submitted a video of it to the people who made the tape because she was convinced she belonged in a commercial.
Emmitt just seemed happy to be included. Cam looked around the table, watching the heckling, the laughter—even the bickering all felt . . . good. He knew there were huge problems lurking just beneath the surface, but for now it felt like a happy family moment, and he made eye contact with Piper. And while he knew his expression probably said he was enjoying this, hers was Oh, shit, I’m enjoying this.
CJ’s phone went off. He read a text and rose, giving Gavin an apologetic look. “Sorry. I’ve gotta go.”
Piper’s phone went off as well. “Me too. There’s been a shooting at the convenience store. Everyone stay home until I know more.”
Cam had spent his entire adult life being the one to be called in, being the guy in charge of emergencies, always the one to tell people to stay back and let him handle things. Being the one in danger, being in the center of the action and in charge was the only way to control the outcome and make sure everyone stayed safe.
So watching Piper walk out the door toward danger while he stayed back was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
“Yeah,” Gavin said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Sucks to be the one left behind, doesn’t it?”
Chapter 22
“As it turned out, there really were several layers of stupid.”
Gavin sat at the kitchen table, Sweet Cheeks asleep on his lap as he worked on his computer on the B&B website. He was tentatively calling it the Rainbow Lodge and was having fun with that at midnight when Piper finally got home.
She practically crawled through the door, exhaustion etched across her face. And something more too. Grief, probably, for whatever she’d seen on the job. Though upon second glance, it seemed deeper, like it’d brought up remembered horrors from her past.
Their past.
His own memories were extremely conflicted, and he liked to pretend he didn’t remember a lot of it. But that was a big, fat lie. He remembered everything.
The thing was, that even right up until the very end, he’d loved every minute of his family’s vagabond, wanderlustful life. He’d seen parts of the world that few ever would, and he’d soaked up the different cultures like he’d been born to it. And hell, he had.
But he’d lost Arik. And in the ensuing chaos and insanity, he’d also lost his childhood.
Once he and his sisters had landed in Wildstone, Piper had done everything in her power to bring it back to him, and in a lot of ways, she’d succeeded. But a part of him would always be that terrified ten-year-old who’d lost everything.
He stood and took Piper’s heavy bag off her shoulder, hanging it up on a hook by the front door. Then he pulled her into the kitchen and pointed to a chair.
She sat in it so mindlessly, he knew she probably hadn’t sat or eaten in twelve hours. So he did the only thing he could do for her. He fed her. He was flipping her favorite—a grilled triple cheese and turkey sandwich—when she took a deep breath.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” she said. “I’m not supposed to. I promised a friend and a work associate that I wouldn’t.” She held his gaze across the stove. “So I need you to promise me that you’re not going to run out of here. You can’t. You’re not supposed to know. It’s not my place to tell you, but . . . I know you. I know what haunts you, and I know why. So I can’t . . .” She closed her eyes. “I can’t not tell you, Gavin.”
Heart suddenly pounding, he turned off the stove, slid the sandwich onto a plate, and brought it to her. Then he squatted at her side and waited until she looked at him. “You’re scaring me, Piper.”
“I know, but if I say nothing and you find out . . .” She gave a slow shake of her head, her eyes shiny. “I’m afraid of what it might do to you. To your recovery.”
He sat back on his heels. “Not making me feel any better.”
“The shooting in the convenience store. It was an attempted robbery. When we all arrived, the shooter was still active. The cops created a diversion so several of them could enter the store. One charged the suspect. And he took the guy down too. But not before he was shot.”
Gavin had stopped breathing. “CJ.”
“Yes, but, Gavin, this isn’t the DRC, okay? It’s not Arik. CJ isn’t going to die—”
Gavin surged to his feet and headed to the door, but Piper caught him with surprising strength, holding on to him, refusing to let go. He could have fought her, but his knees were wobbly, and he realized she was talking to him.
“He’s going to be okay. Gavin, are you listening to me?” She added a shake. “The GSW was a through and through. He’s probably already been released from the hospital by now. He bitched all the way there in the ambulance, saying he didn’t need to go. And I imagine he bitched all the way through getting patched up too. The only reason we got him to go at all was because it was his shoulder and he’d lost a lot of blood.”
Gavin closed his eyes and reminded himself that he did in fact know how to breathe.
“Gavin? You okay?”
Sure. His biggest nightmare was coming true, but other than that . . . “Yes. Let go of me.”
She slowly backed up and gave him some space. He met her gaze and was reminded that she was dead on her feet. “Go to bed, Piper.”
“But—”
“I promise not to do anything stupid.”
She stared at him for a long moment, and then gave him a hard hug. “If you need me—”
“I know. I’ll come get you if I do.” He waited until she went upstairs. Then he waited some more to make sure she was asleep.
He called CJ first and was sent to voice mail. He texted. No response.
If CJ had been in danger of dying, Piper would’ve told him. He knew that. The sun would come up tomorrow. The sun would also go down tomorrow. And Piper would never lie to him. These things he knew for sure. His sister did the right thing, always. Never the easy thing.
So . . . why wouldn’t CJ answer?
Maybe Gavin had gotten too close too fast for com
fort, and he’d spooked the guy. That he could deal with. What he couldn’t deal with was losing him.
Shit. He had to make sure he was going to be okay. He had to see it for himself. He simply couldn’t breathe until he knew. Which meant, as it turned out, there really were several layers of stupid. Sending a silent apology to Piper, he grabbed Winnie’s keys and headed out. He was banking on the knowledge that CJ hated hospitals and would never stay one minute longer than he had to. And honestly, unless he’d been shot in the mouth, he’d have demanded to be let go, AMA or not.
He found himself in CJ’s driveway without remembering the trip. Because everything he feared—the helplessness, the not knowing, the gut-wrenching certainty that life was too fucking short, knowing he could lose someone he loved in the blink of an eye—it was all back with a vengeance.
There were lights on inside, but CJ didn’t answer the door. Gavin didn’t grapple with his admittedly loose morals. He broke in. The living room was empty, but there were discarded boots on the floor near the entry, and just beyond that, a shirt with blood on it.
Gavin’s own blood froze. He could hear swearing from farther inside. Reassured by that, he moved toward it.
He located CJ in the bathroom, stripped down to a pair of jeans resting dangerously low on his hips. He was leaning heavily on the counter while trying to twist to see his back in the mirror. He had gauze bandages in front and back, both bloodstained, and he appeared to be trying to cover the whole thing with Saran Wrap, presumably so he could get into the shower.
Gavin stepped into the room, shoved CJ’s hands clear, and took over the task. “How bad?”
“It’s not,” CJ said through teeth gritted in pain.
Tough guy. Normally, Gavin loved that, but now he just shook his head. “You sent me to voice mail and ignored my texts.”
“Wasn’t ignoring you.”
“What then?”
“Didn’t want to freak you out.”
“Too late.” Gavin pressed his forehead to CJ’s. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?” CJ asked.
“If you are.”
CJ let out a rough breath. “I will be.”
“Are you even allowed to shower?”
“Who’s going to stop me?”
“Me, if it’s against medical advice.” Which he suspected it was. CJ was trembling, so he pressed up against him, bracing him against the counter. “You’re bleeding through,” he said quietly.
“I’ll change the bandages after the shower.”
Gavin didn’t bother arguing with the guy, because next to himself, there was no one more stubborn on the entire planet than CJ. So he finished covering the gunshot wound—just thinking those two words made him woozy—and turned on the shower. Then he unbuttoned and unzipped CJ’s jeans and pushed them off.
“Usually I get dinner first,” CJ muttered, but he was ashen and propped up against the counter, all talk and no go. Gavin shook his head at him and then quietly and quickly stripped himself as well.
CJ did a slow body scan, showing more life than he had a moment ago.
“Hold that thought,” Gavin said, and got them both into the shower, where he washed CJ down with warm water and soap until the water stopped running pink. After, he gently toweled CJ dry and pointed to the bed.
Pale now and trembling like a leaf from the exertion, CJ climbed in and closed his eyes. “Don’t get used to calling the shots.”
Gavin huffed out a laugh at the sly reference to their sex life, in which CJ was almost always the aggressor. “I don’t know, man, I’m kinda liking this new meekness from you.”
Without moving anything but his hand, not even opening his eyes, CJ flipped him off.
Gavin went back to the living room to find what he was looking for. Near where CJ had tossed his keys was a pharmacy bag with meds. And a leather bracelet that Gavin recognized. He’d given it to CJ a whole bunch of years ago. Picking it up, he rolled it between his fingers, memories slamming into him.
They’d been at the carnival the summer after ninth grade. He’d won the bracelet at some stupid darts game and CJ had put it on. Said he’d never take it off.
Gavin took it and the pills, along with a bottle of water, back to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, he waited.
CJ opened his eyes, looked at the leather band, then closed his eyes again.
“You kept it,” Gavin said quietly.
“It meant something to me.” CJ swallowed and Gavin watched his Adam’s apple bounce. “I had put it back on after the other night.”
At that, it was Gavin’s turn to swallow hard. CJ was no longer the same boy he’d loved, but a grown man and a hell of a lot more honest about his feelings than Gavin could ever hope to be.
“They made me take it off again at the hospital,” CJ said. “I can’t put it back on until the abrasions on my wrists heal.”
Gavin eyed CJ’s wrists, which were bruised and cut up, probably from where he’d fallen after getting shot. So he put the bracelet on himself. CJ watched, his mouth slightly curved like he was amused at both of their stupidly sentimental asses.
“Until you can wear it again, I’ll wear it for you,” Gavin said.
CJ’s smile faded. Looking unbearably touched, he nodded.
Gavin blew out a breath and read the med bottles. “You’re supposed to start these antibiotics right away.” He handed one over with the water and then turned to the pain meds.
“I don’t need any of those,” CJ said.
“Really? Cuz you’re shaking with pain, and you’re also paler than your sheets. Quite the feat for a Puerto Rican. Look, just take a damn pain pill. I’ll stay and watch over you—”
“No.”
“Why not?” Gavin asked, exasperated. Worried.
“Because you can’t have any pain meds, not ever again.”
And because he couldn’t, CJ wouldn’t allow himself to have any either. In solidarity. The surprising support had Gavin’s throat too tight to talk again. He slipped the bottle back into the pharmacy bag. “You weren’t supposed to even be on duty.”
“Yeah? And?”
“And you stepped in front of a bullet. You stepped in front of a goddamn bullet.”
“There were kids in there, Gav. A ten-year-old boy standing frozen in terror, not five feet from me. If I hadn’t charged that asshole with the gun . . .”
Then a kid might’ve gotten shot.
Gavin bolted up, staggered into the bathroom, and threw up. Now he was the one shaking and sweating, and also—oh, goodie—in full flashback mode, when he felt CJ drop heavily to his knees beside him and pull him in close.
Gavin didn’t even have the strength to fight him.
“You would’ve done the same thing,” CJ said quietly. “The bullet went right through me. I’m going to be fine.” He ran a hand down Gavin’s back. “Tell me what this is really about.”
Gavin dropped his head to CJ’s good shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut. “Did I ever tell you why me and my sisters got sent home to Wildstone?”
CJ shifted so they were both leaning back against the wall, their legs out in front of them, their arms holding each other upright. “You know you haven’t,” he said quietly. “You’ve always said you don’t really remember, that you were too young.”
Back in the old days, Gavin had suffered horrible flashbacks. As his best friend, CJ had seen what Gavin was going through, but hadn’t understood why. He’d tried to get Gavin to open up, but he simply couldn’t. His grandma hadn’t believed in therapy, but when she’d passed, Piper had made him go.
It’d helped. A lot. But by that time, he’d already detonated his and CJ’s relationship.
And here they were, all these years later, and he still hated to talk about it. “You know my parents were killed overseas.”
CJ’s arms tightened around him. “Yes. And you and your siblings came here to Wildstone.”
Missing a lot of details, but that had allowed Gavin not to talk about what had
preceded his parents’ deaths. “We lived in a village. The yard wasn’t fenced, it was basically just a clearing. Our boundaries were determined by the jungle. We weren’t allowed past the foliage. But, shit, you know I was an asshole.”
“Still are,” CJ said mildly, making Gavin laugh a little, which he supposed was what CJ had been going for.
“My best friend, Arik, and I didn’t like being confined,” he said. “So we made a plan. Or rather, I made the plan, knowing Arik would do whatever I wanted. We were going to wait until dark and sneak into the jungle and see what the big deal was.” He closed his eyes. “We ran into rebel forces. They shot at us for fun.” He realized he wasn’t breathing, so he sucked in some air. “Arik got hit.” His voice caught. “He died and it was my fault.”
CJ was quiet for a moment. Just sat there and slowly rubbed the tension from the back of Gavin’s neck before finally speaking. “So today played right into your demons.”
“Let’s just say that I’d give everything I own for a pill right about now. Luckily, I don’t own shit.”
“Arik wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. He went with you into the jungle of his own free will, and if he’s anything like your current best friend, you couldn’t have stopped him even if you’d tried.”
Gavin lifted his head, unable to worry about the tears he felt on his cheeks. “You think you’re my current best friend?”
“I know it.”
Gavin let out a long, shaky breath and nodded. “It’s more than I deserve.”
“You know what I think?”
“No, but I bet you’re about to tell me.”
CJ held his gaze. “So far, you’ve survived one hundred percent of your days. Which means you’re doing great.”
Gavin had to let out a low laugh. “Yeah, well, great is relative.”
CJ gave a small smile. Because the guy knew what he meant, maybe even more than Gavin. CJ had suffered through life plenty. His goddamn parents had forsaken him, just up and kicked him to the curb not five minutes after he’d been forced out of the closet by some cruel kids at school.
At least Gavin had known his parents had loved him.
