“Molly.”
Oh, fuck.
I hit two minutes on the microwave and then start. And then, with a lot of trepidation, I turn around to deal with the latest development in my life.
“What does she want?” I ask.
“I didn’t ask.”
“Okay.” I think as quickly as I can. “Do you want to go out there with me?”
That might be the worst idea I’ve ever had—or close to it, anyway—but I don’t know how else to manage this. If Molly is here, maybe something is wrong. She never shows up here just for the fuck of it. But under these circumstances, with Dylan living here and … being with me, it feels wrong. To me. I can’t imagine what Dylan is thinking.
I run a hand down my face because I haven’t thought this far ahead. I should’ve, though. I should’ve had a game plan.
“I think I’m going to stay here,” she says.
“Dylan, I … I didn’t invite her here.”
“I know.” She forces a swallow. “I guess, really, there’s nothing wrong with it. I mean, she’s your friend. Right?”
Her attempt at being reasonable knocks the wind out of me. I pull her into me and kiss the top of her head.
Something washes over me. It’s a feeling I’ve never had before. It’s the best, warmest, quietest feeling that’s also the most powerful thing I’ve ever felt. I feel … calm. Which is completely at odds with this circumstance.
The doorbell rings again, and Dylan sags into me.
“I’ll go handle that, and then we’ll have a movie night, okay?” I look her in the eye. “I just …” I gulp. “I’ll be right back.”
She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
My insides twist as the words I was about to say so nonchalantly are still sitting on my tongue. Are they true? Do I really feel that way?
Before I can think about them too much, I have the door handle in my hand. When I swing it open, Molly is standing on the porch. I’d hoped she’d changed her mind and left.
“Hey,” I say, shutting the door behind me. “What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Well, here I am. Shoot.”
She looks over my shoulder, presumably to see if Dylan is anywhere in sight. “I, um, I just … I don’t want to talk about it here. It’s private.”
Irritation claws at my brain as I try to stay calm. I just want to get back in there with Hawkeye and watch our stupid romantic comedy and eat popcorn that will make my stomach hurt all night.
“Fine. What do you want to do?” I ask.
She starts down the sidewalk. I follow. When she hits the gravel of the driveway, I start to wonder if something really is wrong.
This is unlike Molly. She’s usually so self-centered that she plays a very forward card.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
The night is dark, but the sky is clear. The moon gives off plenty of light to see. Stars sparkle overhead. Molly sits on a wicker bench by a patch of sunflowers that have seen better days.
I sit next to her. “Look, I’m happy to help you, Molly. But I have plans tonight, so if you could spit it out, that’d be great.”
“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 whe
re 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.
We reach Molly’s car and stop. She looks up at me with mascara streaks painted down her cheeks.
“Are we still friends?” she asks.
“I told you a long time ago that I’ll always have your back. And I will. But I’m not the same person I was a month ago.”
“Do you think she’s changed you that much?”
“No. I don’t think she’s changed me. I think she’s shown me things about me and about life. She’s given me hope, you know?”
“I need someone to give me hope.”
“You work on you. Stop worrying about everyone else and looking for someone else to validate you, Mol. Use that power you have for good instead of evil.”
We exchange a smile.
“Thanks, Peck.”
“Anytime.” I start toward the house but stop. “No. Wait. Not anytime.” I face her. “Real quick—I’ll always be your friend, but we gotta have some boundaries.”
“I don’t do well with those.” The corner of her lip turns toward the sky. “I’m kidding.”
“Just … no coming by here unless you’re running from zombies. And probably shouldn’t text or call, you know? And Dylan is a great girl.”
“I’m good with all this, but can we leave off that last part?” she jokes.
I think.
“It would serve you well to make friends with her,” I say.
She opens her car door and climbs in. “I’m sure your girlfriend wants to be my friend.” She rolls her eyes.
“You never know.”
“Yeah. See ya later.”
“Bye.”
I head back toward the house. I hear her car door shut and the engine start, followed by the tell-tale sound of gravel crunching as she backs out.
I don’t look back.
The front door is partially open, and I step inside. “Dylan?” I walk through the house until I find her standing in her bedroom. Not mine. “What’s going on? What about the movie?”
“I got tired.”
“Oh.” I look around. She’s pulled her blankets down like she’s preparing to climb inside. “You sleeping in here tonight?”
“I didn’t want to go to your room without you.”
That makes sense, but I don’t like it.
“We could bring some blankets into the living room and turn the movie on,” I say. “Wanna?”
“I’m not really in the mood.” She blows out a breath. “I guess seeing you walk outside to talk to another woman kind of fucked up my energy flow or something.”
I reach for her. She lets me take her hand and pull her against me. I wrap my arms around her as tightly as I can and nuzzle my face into her hair.
“You could’ve come out there with me,” I say.
“I know. I’m just … jealous.”
The thought makes me smile. I’m a total dick. “Well, so you know, because it’s important to me that you do know—I told her not to come by. Or call. Or text. Or be a jerk to you or anyone else, actually.”
I feel her smile against my chest. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
I lean back and brush the hair out of her face so I can see into her eyes. I feel it again, stronger than ever. It’s that rush of comfort, of being perfectly content with your life. With your partner.
With the woman you love.
“What?” she asks. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
“But …”
I tug her hand and guide her to my room.
To our room.
I just have to figure out how to make that happen.
We climb in bed. She snuggles up against me, her hand flat against my heart.
“Peck?”
“Yeah, Hawkeye?”
“I didn’t like it when you left with her just now.”
“I know, and I told you that she won’t—”
“I meant, that it was different. When Charlie left me for his ex, I was angry and felt betrayed. But I don’t think I ever actually felt jealous. Is that weird?”
I think about it. “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know.” I pull her closer.
“But tonight, with you … I don’t know. It just didn’t feel good.”
I truly am a dick because that makes me feel pretty darn good. But I won’t leave her hanging. Even I have limits on dickiness.
“I know,” I say. “And every moment I was outside with Molly, I wanted to be inside with you. She saw that. She knew. She commented on it, actually.”
“She must hate me, huh?”
“Not sure, to be honest.” I kiss the top of her head. “But I did tell her that things have changed. For the better. For you.” And me.
I feel her smile against my shoulder, and nothing feels better than this moment. Dylan in my arms. In my bed. In our bed.
I gulp.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Night, Wes.”
“Night.”
It doesn’t take long before she’s sleeping peacefully.
I grab my phone and dim the light and type in, ‘How to tell someone you love them.’
Because what the hell do I know about this? Not a damn thing. I’m not even sure if this is the right thing to do.
I look down at her and smile.
Even if it’s not the right thing, I’m going to try anyway.
Twenty-Seven
Dylan
“What are you doing today?”
Navie’s voice is chipper, especially for nine in the morning. As a bartender, she doesn’t keep early morning hours.
“I’m screwing off today,” I say. “I start work next week, so this is my last hurrah.”
Navie laughs.
“Really I’m just trying to get my life in order over here. I made a list of a bunch of things I need to do before my life get hectic again.” I tap the steering wheel as I wait at a stop sign. “Why couldn’t I have been born a rich princess and just paid someone to do my life’s paperwork for me?”
“Girl, don’t even start with that. That’s my dream right there. I’ll still work for a living. I just want to find someone to come over and handle my life. Like … a wife. I need a wife.”
“Same,” I say with a laugh.
I pass a sign for Bluebird Hill. My face lights up as I remember our night up there. I’m still picking mud out of my hair, which is slightly annoying, but I wouldn’t change those memories for anything.
That’s the epitome of why I fell for Peck. His silliness and fun-loving side are balanced with a part of him that’s so effortlessly sexy. He’s the perfect package.
I was so happy last night when we got home. On top of the world, even. But then Molly McCarter showed up and put enough of a wobble in my universe that I’m not quite perched on the top of Mount Happiness anymore.
“Why are you up so early?” I ask Navie.
“The neighbor’s dog, actually. It started barking at six thirty. I’m not thrilled that I got virtually no sleep, but damn, I feel accomplished already today. Is this what the rest of the world feels like when they get up at the crack ass of dawn?”
“Not usually,” I say, laughing. “We’re usually more bitter about it.”
“Well, I don’t think I’d want to do it every day.”
My phone buzzes in my cupholder. I look down to see Joanie’s name on the screen. Goodman’s Gas Station is up ahead, and I pull my car into the back entrance. I park next to the side of the building and put it in park.
“Hang on, Navie,” I say.
I look down at the screen again.
Joanie: Hi, Dylan. Did you decide anything on the house? He has someone else interested but wanted to give you first dibs. Please let me know.
I stare at the phone. In the back of my brain, I’ve known I needed to re
spond to this. It’s sat there and prickled me over and over again. I don’t know why I haven’t sent her an answer. But I have to now. Time’s up.
My thumb runs over the screen as I consider my response. Even though I already know what I have to do, I think about each option.
If this text had come through yesterday, I probably would’ve told her I pass out of some orgasm-fueled optimism. But today is not last night, and my optimism game is waning. It’s not dead, but it’s not killing the world either.
“Are you there?” Navie asks.
“Yeah. Hang on.”
A pang of anxiety sits in the middle of my abdomen, wearing a hole in my stomach since I opened the door and saw Molly on Peck’s porch. The most frustrating thing about it all is that I trust Peck. I do. I know he would never hurt me intentionally. But the fact remains that Charlie didn’t necessarily set out to hurt me either.
Me: Hi, Joanie. Thanks for the text, and I’m sorry for not responding more promptly. I thought I had a solution to my housing issue, but it turns out, I don’t. I’d love to rent the house. I know I haven’t seen it, but as long as it’s not full of cats, we’ll be fine.
Joanie: Oh, great! I think you’ll love it. I’ll get with Peter and have him get ahold of you. It’s okay to give him your number, right?
Me: Yes, please.
Joanie: Great. He’ll be in touch soon.
Me: Thanks again.
I stare at the screen. The deed has been done.
“Dylannn ….” Navie sings. “Just call me back, fool.”
“I’m here. I’m here,” I say, bringing the phone to my ear. “I just, um … Well, Joanie texted me about the house she found, and I had to make a decision.”
My throat burns as I swallow.
It’s the right choice. I know that. But it doesn’t mean I like the idea of leaving Peck.
Last night, sleeping in his arms, still felt right. Right but just … unsettled. He told Molly that things were different now, but she’s had unlimited access to him for over twenty years. Will she really give up and bow out? She may not have loved him, but she’s owned him, more or less, I think. And me? I’ve only known him for five minutes.
The original plan was for me to move out. Just because things took a turn with us romantically doesn’t mean he’s ready for me to live with him. I’m not sure I’m ready for that either.
Gibson Boys Box Set Page 118
