“I’m having a hard time remembering which guy you’d be talking about,” I joke.
“Holt. The guy from Savannah.”
I chuckle. “Of course, I remember. He’s the only guy I think you’ve ever mentioned. I was starting to think you were batting for the other team.”
“You know what? You’re a jerk.”
“Anyway …”
“Anyway,” she goes on. “He wants me to come down for a long weekend again.”
“And …?”
She groans. “Do I go?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“I mean, if I go, does that mean something?”
“Yeah,” I deadpan. “It means you want to be fucked.”
“Machlan!”
“What? You asked.”
She groans again, but there’s a little chuckle laced in there that makes me smile. Blaire doesn’t lighten up much. Everything is cut and dry with her. Right or wrong. Clean or dirty. She doesn’t have fun like Walker. She doesn’t do relationships like Lance. And she doesn’t blow smoke up people’s asses like I do. So to hear her all fucked up over a guy is pretty fantastic.
“Well,” she says, “I kind of do.”
“Blaire!”
“What?” If Blaire was capable of giggling like a normal girl, this would be a giggle. “It’s been a while.”
I shove off the truck. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life.”
“Good because it would be a boring story. I’m not like you guys.”
“I love how you think I’m some kind of whore.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. That was Lance before Mariah came around. I’ve always been more of a discriminate fuck.”
“Speaking of, I heard Hadley was around.”
“Yeah …” I sigh, reaching for my back pocket.
The chew can nestles in my palm. My thumb beats a rhythmic tap on the lid that takes the edge off my exposed nerves.
“How’s that going?” Blaire’s tone is softer now, knowing this is dangerous territory. “I know it’s hard for you when she’s around.”
I slide the can in my pocket again. “It’s okay this time, I think.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? We talked a little today, and there was no bloodshed. That’s a step in the right direction, right?”
“What do you think changed?”
Good question.
Walking to the planters that line both sides of the porch, I look at Mom’s rose bushes. She used to keep them pruned perfectly, but I don’t. I leave them there because I can’t rip them out, but I don’t take care of them. They take care of themselves. They stretch opposite ways for sunlight and dig deeper when they need more nutrients, I guess.
“Maybe,” I say, wondering how insane this is going to sound, “we realized we’re gonna have to figure out how to breathe the same air. I mean, our roots are so tangled that we can only dig deeper, you know?”
“No.” She laughs. “I don’t. Are you on drugs?”
“No, just looking at Mom’s rose bushes and making analogies.” Swiping my finger over the wet petals, I head to the front door. “I think you should go to Savannah.”
“Yeah,” she says with a pointed sigh. “I think I should too.”
“Long-distance relationships usually don’t work, but knowing you and your anti-social ways, it might be perfect.”
“I totally hate people.”
“I know.” I unlock the door and step inside. “I need to get ready for work. Hired a new bartender and she’s there alone right now.”
“Go. I need to get back to work anyway.”
“Be good. And let me know if you go to Savannah just so I know you make it home.” The hardwood floors creak under my weight as I amble toward my room. “I mean, I’m sure this guy is a real winner, but you never know.”
She gasps. “I’m being irrational, aren’t I?”
Laughing, I flip on the light in my room. “No. Don’t overthink it. Just use that brain of yours and you’ll be fine.”
“Mach, maybe not. Maybe I should—”
“Go, Blaire. Both back to work and to Savannah. Love ya. Goodbye.”
“Love you. Bye,” she says.
My phone goes flying through the air and lands in the middle of my bed. I want to flop down beside it and rest for a few minutes—get my head together before I throw myself into a weekend night at Crave.
Instead, I turn toward my closet but stop.
My heart pounds in my chest as I step to my dresser. My hand goes around the corner of the television and finds the edge of the four-by-six frame. I pull it out.
Holding it with both hands, I bring the picture closer. Hadley wasn’t looking at the camera while I snapped the only photo I have of her and our baby. She’s looking at the chubby faced little girl with a shock of dark hair and the prettiest complexion I’ve ever seen.
“Daddy loves you, baby girl,” I say, my thumb stroking the image.
A lump springs to my throat as a wetness coats my eyes, and I put the picture back and get ready for work.
Eighteen
Hadley
“That was so good,” I say, rubbing my stomach.
Cross hands the waitress his credit card. “That was, quite possibly, the best taco salad I’ve ever eaten.”
“I’d have to agree, considering it was the second one I’ve eaten today.”
“You came here for lunch?”
“Kind of.”
I roll my straw around my glass, fighting a huge smile from swamping my face. It’s been plastered on my lips ever since Machlan dropped me off this afternoon.
My brother pulls his brows together. Setting his wallet on the table, he crosses his arms over his chest and watches me skeptically. “What are you not telling me?”
“Well,” I say, letting go of the straw. “I kind of came here today with Mach.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“No, I’m not, and that choice of words is horrific,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “What does that even mean? Does anyone actually shit you? How would you do that? Like, I don’t get it.”
“It’s a form of expression. Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not.”
“Then did I hear you just say you came to lunch here with Machlan?”
“Yes, nosy. I had lunch with your best friend today.”
I hate how smug I feel and how I know Cross is picking up on it. How could he not? A total stranger could see how satisfied I am right now. I can’t help it, though.
I’ve replayed every second we spent together today. What surprises me the most is my favorite moments aren’t the ones when he held me or touched me or gave me hope that things might find some normalcy between us. My favorite parts of today are the ones where I looked in his eyes and saw him. Not the man who owns the bar or the one who has commitment issues. Not my brother’s best friend or the guy who broke my heart.
Today, he was Machlan.
The guy who whispered “I love you” one Saturday night while we watched a movie on his nana’s couch.
The man who gave me the opportunity to feel a child growing in my stomach and be a mother even if for only a few hours.
Today, when I looked in his eyes, he was the boy I fell in love with.
If I thought about it too much, I’d flip into terrified mode. I’d start overthinking this whole thing and realize how awful I’ll feel when things don’t work out or how lonely it’ll be when I leave and he lets me. Again. But the beauty of today is this: I don’t overthink it. I embrace Emily’s advice and Machlan’s words and just let it be.
“I can honestly say I’m surprised,” Cross says. He takes his credit card from the waitress and thanks her before turning back to me.
“Why?”
“I thought you were going a different direction.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I tried. And I still don’t know what direction we’re going, per se, but I like t
his … whatever it is. Being able to spend time with him. It’s nice.”
“I’ve always told you whatever you two figure out is fine as long as you don’t get hurt in the process.” He takes some cash out of his wallet and places it in the center of the table. Then, just as our dad used to do, and I do, he takes the saltshaker and places it on top. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
We stand, scooting in our chairs, and meander through the tables at Peaches. Cross holds the door open for me and a couple of ladies coming in, before following me outside.
The air is crisp and the wind gusty as we make our way to his truck. We get situated inside and don’t speak until the heat is on.
“Can I ask what led to you and Mach having lunch?” he asks. “I mean, it’s none of my business, and I’m totally okay with that, but I have a feeling I’ll end up hearing about it from one of you on the back end. If I have some background, it’ll help.”
I watch clouds tumble across the sky, deep gray billows across the light gray backdrop. “I was walking to Carlson’s for lunch, and it started pouring. He happened to drive by and pick me up.”
“Sure, he did.” Cross laughs, putting the truck in reverse.
“What?”
“He didn’t happen to see you do shit. Fucker was probably stalking you.”
My heart skips a beat. “No. I don’t think so. I think it was random.”
“Sure, it was.”
We lurch forward as he shoves the transmission in drive. Cross laughs again, this time more to himself than me. I watch the amusement dance across his features and wonder what he’s thinking. I’m too afraid to ask.
Biting my lip, I look out the window but don’t really see anything. All of my attention is on my brother’s assessment of the situation. I turn to him, curiosity winning.
“What did you mean by that?” I ask.
“By what?”
“By saying he didn’t happen to see me.”
He rolls his eyes. “When it comes to you, nothing Machlan does or says or sees is random.” He quiets as he pilots the truck onto the exit ramp back to Linton. “If you’re in a ten-mile radius, Mach can’t focus on anything else.”
“Really?” I grin.
“Seeing you grin like that makes me happy. I get it. Trust me,” he says, a look sweeping across his face that I know means he’s thinking about Kallie. “But just be careful, okay?”
“Be careful? That doesn’t sound good.” My grin falters as I look out the window again. “I know what you mean. Things could flip around in a heartbeat.”
He turns the heater down and the radio off. “That’s true, but let’s focus on the good part of the day. What did the two of you do?”
“He picked me up, took me to Peaches, and we drove around a while. Ended up on Bluebird.”
Cross makes a show of leaning away from me. “What happens on Bluebird stays on Bluebird, and it’s definitely nothing that should be heard by your brother.”
“We just talked.” My emotions level out, and a calmness settles over me. “It was nice. We kind of came to an arrangement or something.”
“I’m afraid to even ask.”
“Then don’t.”
He swishes his head side to side. “Is it sexual in nature?”
I punch his shoulder.
We both laugh as he takes the exit to Linton, and we pass the turnoff to Bluebird. There’s a relief on his face that I know well; it’s one I feel in my bones.
“Whatever deal you struck,” he says, “I hope you can keep it up. I kind of like being able to bring up his name and not have you rant.”
“I kind of like it too.”
He flashes me a knowing smile and takes a right at Goodman’s.
We trudge through town, the roads still wet from the rain. The streetlights come on, and a hazy glow shines over town. It reminds me of fall days after school the year I moved to Illinois from San Diego. I couldn’t get over the way the leaves changed and how quickly the temperature dropped.
It was an eventful fall that year. So much time spent learning how to be a country girl—camping, fishing, and going to football games in the back of trucks. The smell of Carlson’s pumpkin bread and Machlan’s body after a football game trickle through my mind.
I miss those things. All of them. Not necessarily in that order.
“You still planning on going back to Vigo?” Cross asks, bringing me out of my reverie.
“Of course.” I look at him over my shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I just thought maybe if you and Machlan could make peace, you’d come home.” He takes his eyes off the road and winces. “Does that make you feel bad for leaving? Because if it does, I’m not sorry.”
Giving him a sad smile, I sigh. “It does make me feel bad. Thanks.”
“I worry about you, Had.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Really.”
I jabber on a host of run-on sentences that are clearly more for my own edification than to convince him of anything. The whole time I’m telling him how excited I am to get to work at the new office, to hang out with Emily more now that Samuel is out of the picture, and how I can come back to visit whenever, I fight the rumble in my belly that reminds me how much I wish I felt the enthusiasm I’m trying to extend to Cross.
Being in Linton is comfortable. It’s like walking in a warm house on a cold day and taking off your boots and getting handed a cup of hot chocolate. It’s having people wave as you go down the road and seeing familiar faces in the gas station who ask how you’re doing and really mean it. It’s being with Cross, the only family I have, and it’s being with my friends. And it’s being with Machlan.
I gulp. “I’ll be fine,” I say again. “Besides, when you and Kallie have babies, I’m sure I’ll reconsider. Get to work on that.” I make a face. “Who am I kidding? I heard you. You’re totally working on that.”
Cross chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls next to my car behind Crave.
Cars and trucks are parked everywhere, and people loiter on the sidewalks. Every time the back door opens and people come out to smoke, music from the inside filters out.
I wonder if Machlan is in there, and if he is, what he’s doing. I wonder if he’s thought of me since this afternoon and how he thinks of me, if he has.
Biting my lip, I gaze at the back door, but I’m interrupted as Cross bumps my shoulder.
“Huh?” I ask, tearing my gaze to my brother.
“You want to go in? Kallie is at her mom’s for a while tonight, so I have some time to kill.”
I shouldn’t. I should leave well enough alone and just go to the apartment and read like I had planned. But the longer I don’t answer and the wider Cross’s smile gets and the more times the back door opens, the bigger the little bubble of excitement in my stomach grows.
“You know what?” I say, opening my door. “Let’s do that.”
Nineteen
Hadley
“People get here this early?” I pause outside the door of Crave and take in the cars lining the street. “I guess I thought this was a late-night thing.”
“Machlan has a good thing going here.”
“Lots of drinkers in town, huh?”
“Believe it or not, people come in and don’t drink alcohol.”
“Really?” I flip my attention to my brother. “Why?”
Cross shrugs. “I guess they just like the atmosphere. Everyone in town filters through here at some point during the weekend. Hell, Machlan makes more here than I do at both my gyms.”
“Are you serious?”
“He’d never admit it, but yeah. I’d bet that’s true.”
This sparks a moment of pride in me. It’s not about the money because I know Machlan doesn’t care about that. But that he took something he enjoys, something I’m just realizing means something entirely more to him than I would’ve ever guessed and made it a success.
That makes me happy for him.
A roar of laughter eke
s through the closed door. The windows are blacked out, so I can’t see in, but if I weren’t already curious, I would be now.
“There’s a bar in Vigo,” I say. “It’s a great place to go until it gets dark out. Then all hell breaks loose, and it becomes a shit show.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t happen here. Machlan doesn’t hesitate to toss people out on their ass.”
Stepping to the side to let a couple pass, I look at my brother. “Think he’ll toss me out?”
“He’ll have to get through me.”
“So think he’ll toss me out?” I repeat with a laugh.
Cross shakes his head and reaches for the door. “You act like it’s a given he’d win.”
“Because he would.”
“Have you even considered that I’m an actual fighter? Like I’ve been in sanctioned boxing matches. I own two gyms. I train people how to fight.”
“And Machlan would kick your ass.” I laugh. “But I still love you, and I’ll always lie in front of Kallie about that.”
“I …” He holds a hand on his heart and yanks open the door. “I’m hurt.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
It takes a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The salty scent of the bar mixed with the perspiration from the throngs of people already dancing hit me quick and hard.
Blowing out a breath, I give myself a moment to adjust. The place is hopping in a very controlled manner. It’s not what I was expecting even though I don’t really know what I was expecting.
Cross touches my shoulder and nudges me to move as a crowd of people come in behind us. I take a few steps before my feet falter.
Machlan is behind the bar. Dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that hugs his body like it was made just to show off his muscles, he’s hard to look away from. The colorful tattoos on his right arm peek out from under the sleeve of the shirt while his hair does the same from beneath a plain black baseball hat that’s turned around backward.
I’m nudged forward again. My heartbeat picks up as I get closer, knowing he hasn’t seen me yet. A part of me wants to fade into the background and just watch him from a distance. Another side of me wants to climb him like a damn tree. Thank God for the rational side that tells me to breathe, smile, and let things be.
Crave: The Gibson Boys, Book #3 Page 14
