That doesn’t mean it’ll feel good to go.
“You told her no, right?” she asks.
“I told her yes. I’ll take it.”
“Um, why? Am I missing something?”
“Well,” I say, “Molly came by last night and—”
“What?” she squawks.
I sigh. “It’s … fine. I think. I guess. I don’t know. I think he did the right thing.”
“Then why are you moving?”
“Because time never hurt anyone. I rushed in to my relationship with Charlie and—”
“He’s not Charlie.”
“Clearly. I just get in over my head all the damn time, and I don’t want to do that with Peck. If things can work out between us, I want it to happen organically. Slowly. Without the pressure of having me already moved in.”
She considers this. “Makes sense.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words fail to come. Instead, my eyes are glued to a man and a woman who look incredibly familiar. He has a blue hat on his head.
No.
They turn ever so slightly, and I get a better look.
I almost drop the phone.
Molly and Peck. It’s them. Without a doubt. They’re walking across the parking lot next to each other.
Maybe he’s just here getting gas. Maybe Walker needed fuel for something at work. Coincidences happen.
My stomach sloshes, threatening to expel the coffee I drank this morning. I grip the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles turn white.
“Navie? I’m gonna have to call you back.”
The words come out wonky. Even I can hear the emotion in my tone.
What the hell is going on?
“What are you doing?” Navie demands. “Are you okay?”
Molly climbs in a little black car, and Peck walks to the other bank of pumps. His truck is partially hidden by the fueling equipment and other trucks in front of it.
The black car speeds out of the parking lot and takes a left. I watch, holding my breath, as Peck comes to the mouth of the parking lot.
Turn right. Turn right towards Crank. Come on, Peck.
“I’ll call you later, Navie.”
I still don’t hang up. I’m too scared to move. If he turns left …
A small gasp squeaks out of my mouth as Peck’s truck turns left. Toward the direction Molly went. Away from Crank.
There’s nothing down that road but a few houses. I ventured that way yesterday morning on a boredom adventure.
“What’s happening?” Navie demands.
I wish I knew.
“Dylan! Damn it.”
“Sorry,” I say. My voice sounds weak. I hate it. “I just, um, well, I just saw Peck follow Molly away from town from Goodman’s.”
“No, you fucking didn’t.”
“Yes, I fucking did.”
“Dyl …”
I put my car in drive. “This doesn’t mean anything,” I tell her. “Maybe it’s a coincidence. And even if it’s not, they’re friends. They’re allowed to be friends.”
“Fuck that.”
“Navie …”
She rambles, her emotions about this situation as all over the place as mine. It makes no sense, and I refuse to believe he’s up to no good.
That’s just not Peck. I feel it in my stomach.
But I also feel that this is something I’m going to have to figure out how to deal with because she’s not leaving. And I can’t ask him not to be friends with her. I’m not that insecure girl, and I refuse to be.
My spirit feels deflated as I pull out onto the road. And head right. Toward Peck’s.
He’s serious about me. I believe that. But I also believe that this thing with Molly is going to have to be navigated, and I don’t know how to do that. I didn’t give myself a whole lot of time to think about it. I did what I do—I jumped in and didn’t consider all the consequences.
Damn it.
I squeeze my temples as I pull into Peck’s driveway.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” I ask Navie.
“I didn’t know if you remembered I was here or not,” she says. “But, yes, of course.”
“Thanks.” I turn off the car. “The guy who owns the house is supposed to get ahold of me today, so I’ll know more then. But even if I can have the keys right away, I don’t think I can sleep there tonight. I won’t have a bed or anything.”
Tears flicker in my eyes. They’re hot, almost scalding, as they topple onto my face.
“Don’t cry,” she whispers. “This will all be fine.”
“I know. It will.” I swallow hard. “I’m just, um, I’m going to get my personal things in a box and figure out what to tell Peck. I’m too emotional to really put things in a great way right now.”
“Want me to tell him?”
I laugh, wiping my face. “No. Thanks. I’d rather not have him hate both of us forever and ever.”
She laughs too. It’s a sad sound, one that’s filled with pity. And I hate that, but I am pretty pitiful at the moment.
“Come by anytime. I work at four, but I’ll be here until then,” she says.
“Okay.” I climb out of the car and face Peck’s house. “I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
“Bye.”
I shove my phone in my pocket and take in the cute little house with the rose bushes.
“Fuck.”
I head inside to pack up my life.
Again.
Twenty-Eight
Peck
“What a fucking day.”
I park my truck next to Dylan’s car. It’s a simple thing, an action that becomes routine. A habit. But every time I pull in my driveway and see her car setting there, something happens inside me. The thought alone makes things feel different. And good. And that the possibilities of life going forward might be endless.
I hop out of the truck and jog to the front door. It occurred to me today that she hasn’t eaten at Peaches yet, and while I would like to spend a lazy evening with her in the kitchen, I know I won’t be able to keep my hands off her. Plus, I’d like to take her out and make her feel special.
The door swings open. With a furrowed brow, I step inside. A banging sound followed by a thud comes from Dylan’s room.
“What the hell?”
I walk down the hallway with my senses on high alert. Peeking in her bedroom, I spot a large box from the barn on her bed … and her standing at the foot.
She looks up. Her eyes are vulnerable yet guarded. It’s not the Dylan I know.
“Hey,” I say.
She smiles. Sort of.
“What are you doing?” I nod toward the box. “Did you carry that inside all by yourself? You could’ve waited on me to help you, you know?”
“No. I, um, well, I did. But it was empty.”
“Empty?”
I pause and look around. The suitcase in the corner is zipped up instead of propped against the wall with its contents spilling everywhere. The cup of water that’s sat by the bed since the first night she was here is gone. Her deodorant and girlie stuff have disappeared from the dresser, and the books and papers that she’s been sorting through off and on are gone.
Oh, fuck.
My throat feels too tight to pass a swallow.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
She fiddles with the lid. Her eyes avert from mine. She switches her weight from one foot to the other as she tries to avoid my question.
“Dylan?”
“Oh, well, do you remember the house I was telling you about? The one that Joanie, my new boss, told me about. I think I mentioned it to you.”
What the hell is she talking about? A house? For what? What’s it matter?
And then it hits me. Like Walker slugging me in the stomach for a joke I made at his expense, I feel like the wind is knocked out of me.
“What does that have to do with you?” I ask carefully.
She forces a swallow. “Well, Joanie messaged me today about it becaus
e I hadn’t responded to her earlier text. And she said I basically had to jump on the rental or lose it because someone else was interested.”
“What did you say?”
She looks into the box. Her face is flushed, her lips swollen, and I wonder if she’s been biting them.
Why?
“I told her I’d take it,” she says.
I grab the doorframe to keep myself steady.
She’ll take it? What the actual fuck?
My first instinct is to grab her and hold her against me and not let her go. Not let her ruin this thing between us because it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever had. But she looks at me, and a fire burns through my veins like wildfire, and I can’t move.
“Why did you tell her that?” I ask. “Do you not like it here?”
She smiles, but it’s not for me. “It was never the plan for me to stay here long term.”
“Well, it was never in the plan to have you sleeping in my bed either, but I’m not arguing that.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have been doing that either. Thank you for pointing that out.”
I raise a brow. “What happened today? I feel like I went to work with one life and came home to another.”
“I don’t know, Peck. What did happen today?”
“Nothing that I know of.”
She nods. “Well, I think it’s best that we have some space for a while. As you mentioned, I ended up in your bed awfully fast, and I think it makes a lot of sense to let things simmer for a while and see how we feel.”
“I know how I feel.” I take a step toward her. “Don’t you?”
“I do. That’s why I’m doing this.”
She makes no sense. She’s lost her damn mind. Leaving me because she wants to be with me … She never said that.
“Dylan, do you want to be with me?”
The pause is too long. The silence too deafening. The hesitation lingers in the air until I release a frustrated chuckle.
“I do,” she says. “I do. You’re … great, Peck. But I have some things I need to sort out before we go any further.”
“Like what?”
Her eyes fill with an uneasiness.
My brain trolls through every minute we’ve spent together. From the day she stormed up to the truck at Old Man Dave’s house to last night when she fell asleep in my arms, I go over it. Nothing is there that would be a straight line to this.
Except Molly.
My shoulders tighten.
“Is this about Molly?” I ask.
“Not really.”
“Molly McCarter has no bearing on us, Dylan. None.”
She stands up, her gaze fiery. “You’re right. It shouldn’t. It absolutely shouldn’t, but it does, Peck. It does. She does.” Her jaw sets. “I saw you with her today and watched you follow her out of town, and I hate the way I feel about that. It’s not me. I don’t want it to be me.”
She storms past me. Her jaw is set as she grabs one of her T-shirts off the back of a chair.
“So what? Yeah, I saw her today,” I say. “I helped her sister, Megan. Her battery died.”
“And they couldn’t have called a tow service?”
“Yeah. They could’ve. But I happened to be getting a coffee at the gas station and offered to go down there and help them. Because that’s my job. I did my job, and I came home. To you.”
She spins on her heel. “You’re right. It is your job. And they’re your friends, and you would have been a dick if you didn’t help them.”
“Yeah. I would. But if it drives you this fucking crazy, I won’t anymore. Ever again.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. She wads the shirt up and tosses it in the box.
She sits down again. It’s as if all her energy has vanished. I want to sit beside her or pick her up and put her on my lap. I want to help her, to make her better, but I’m the one she’s mad at.
I think.
A tear threatens to spill over her eyes. I reach for her, but she pulls away.
“I don’t want to be this person,” she says.
“What person?”
“This one. The girl who feels so insecure when a girl shows up that I know you don’t love. I just … it makes me feel all kinds of ways, and I hate that, Peck. It’s not good for me or you or even Molly although I can’t say she’s high on my list of priorities.” She looks up at me with tear-filled eyes. “I want to be good enough to be the love of someone’s life. The kind of love you have with the first person you fall for—that unconditional, inexplicable kind of love.”
“Dylan …”
My head spins at her admission. I don’t know what she’s saying. Does she not like the person she is when she’s with me? Does she think she’s worse for wear now that we’ve been together? Does she not believe I’m capable of love?
Am I capable of love?
“This isn’t about you,” she says softly. “Or Molly.”
“Then what’s happening right now?”
I kneel in front of her. She turns her head and looks at the wall. The sight of her so sad, so upset breaks my heart.
“Relationships are hard for me,” she says.
“I think they’re hard for me too … because you’re making it that way.”
She almost smiles. “I’ve always felt second or third or, hell, even fourth sometimes in every relationship I’ve been in. From the one with my mother to the one with my Nonna to the one with Charlie.”
“You’re first with me. You’re the only one in the game, sweetheart.”
I look at her with every bit of sincerity I can. I love her. I know it. There’s not a doubt about it. But if I tell her now, maybe she’ll just feel sorry for me. Maybe she’ll stay for the wrong reasons. Even though I’m desperate to stop this madness, I know you can’t make someone stay if they don’t want to.
I stand. This feels horribly familiar.
Closing my eyes, I’m bombarded with the words on the note Mom wrote. All I can visualize is the way her handwriting slanted to the left and got thicker in the loops. The paper. The confusion …
Vin and Peck,
Dad and I are taking a little trip. I’ll call you as soon as we get settled. I love you boys. I love you with everything in me. If you need anything, see Nana, okay? And just remember your mom loves you.
Love,
Mom
That’s. Not. What. Love. Does.
The sting hits me in the heart like it did the day I found it after school. It’s like a scorpion stung me over and over. She loves me with everything in her, yet it wasn’t enough for her to stay with us. With me.
Why did I think I was?
Nothing hurts as bad as someone you love choosing to leave you. Not a damn thing.
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.”
Gibson Boys Box Set Page 119
