by Mia Malone
They sat at the kitchen table, dissecting every piece of information they had, turning it around and getting nowhere when the break-in suddenly went from stupid shit done by a petty criminal, and started to count as another attempt at Gibson’s life.
“I’ll throw these away, Gib, okay?” Lee called out, standing by the kitchen counter, holding a small white container out toward him with her thumb and index finger.
She’d been clearing the breakfast away, and the pantry was open.
“What is it, babe?” Gibson asked.
“Aspirin. Almost took a few the other day, but it’s passed its expiry date. I guess, once a nurse, always a –”
“Put that down on the counter and take a step back.”
Lee immediately did as he asked her, and Gibson shot to his feet, moving toward her. He knew his face would be as harsh as his voice had been, but bad vibes had washed over him in a rush, and he couldn’t hold it back. He tried to soften the command he’d just given her by adding a gentle, “That’s good, baby.”
The gentleness was mostly marred by a gruffness which he couldn’t keep out of his voice and he let a hand slide softly over her shoulder, hoping she’d get that he wasn’t angry with her.
“What the hell, Gib?” Paddy murmured when no one said anything.
“Don’t use Aspirin,” Gib murmured. “Tylenol. Always. There isn’t supposed to be any Aspirin in my house, and certainly not in my fucking pantry. Have a medicine cabinet in the laundry room.”
He leaned down to look at the white, plastic container, but it was just a regular off the shelf bottle of Aspirin.
“Gloves, Mac,” he ordered, realized that the chief of police probably didn’t walk around with a pair in his pocket and changed his request to, “Get your deputies back here. We need to dust this for prints. Wanna check the contents.”
Mac was already on the phone, and Gibson heard the others move around him, but he had his full focus on what he was doing and ignored them. Quickly he brought out a roll of plastic wrap, tore off a piece and used it to protect the bottle as he opened it and poured out a few pills on the counter.
“That’s not aspirin,” Lee said calmly. “I do not know what it is, but it isn’t aspirin.”
“You sure?” Gibson murmured.
“Nurse,” she replied laconically, and they both leaned over the counter to look at the pills. “They’re oval, and there are no marks. Pills from that bottle should be round and have the text aspirin on them, or the letter A and a number. These are completely blank.”
“Shit.”
“I guess the break-in started to count,” she whispered.
There was a faint tinge of fear in her voice that tore at him, at the same time as his chest filled with surprised pride. She’d immediately picked up that if he hadn’t put them there, then someone else had, and the ones who had been in his kitchen and would be prime suspects would be the burglars. He straightened and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. Then a thought hit him, and he reared back.
“You almost took one?”
“Yes. Had a hangover, remember? Saw them in the pantry, was about to take two of them but noticed the expiry date. Got a couple from Jenny instead.”
The anger which had been churning in his stomach turned to icy hot rage, and he had to make an effort to keep breathing normally. This was the second time she’d been in harm’s way.
“This is not fucking good,” Joke rumbled. “Don’t know what that shit is, but it is; Not. Fucking. Good.”
Gibson felt the pulse beating in his ears, and the need to hurt someone was running through him like a hot wave. He got a grunt out but didn’t trust his voice, and kept squeezing Lee to him, needing the connection to assure himself she was still alive. His friends knew how he was when his temper got the better of him, and it didn’t happen often, but when he blew, for real, they knew to stay back and let him work it off.
“You need to hit something?” Lee suddenly whispered into the silence.
He blinked and tilted his head down to look at her. She watched him in silence for a beat, and then she nodded.
“You need to hit something,” she concluded. “Go outside, do what you have to do, Gib. Kick a tree, throw some of the patio furniture around, whatever. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“I don’t –”
“Go, baby,” she whispered. “The deputies will be back in a little while and I think it’s better if you’re rational when they get here.”
Jesus. Had she just asked him to go away and throw the deck chairs into his yard, so he’d be rational enough to talk to a couple of deputies who still were wet behind their ears? Anger and fear faded and was replaced with an unexpected wash of humor. He felt the tips of his mouth quiver a little, and her eyes widened when she saw it.
“I’m good, babe,” he murmured.
“Are you laughing at me?” she asked.
“Just a little.”
“Why?”
“I don’t throw furniture, babe.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Should I order lunch? I guess you’ll be busy for a while?”
He smiled then. Took what was coming, processed it, and rolled with it. That was his Lee.
“You good, honey?” he asked.
“Mostly,” she sighed. “I’m trying really hard to not freak out about all of this, Gibson. But I’m not the one they’re trying to kill, and I know you’ll find the motherfucking assholes and deal with them.”
The group of men chuckled at her unexpected choice of words, and she stepped away from him and walked toward the phone. He supposed she was about to call Jenny and share what was happening and get the boys’ and his lunch order sorted.
Then she looked at him over her shoulder, and added, “I know you’ll deal with them, Gibson, but if you could do it in a way that doesn’t mean you’ll be doing twenty to life wearing orange, I’d appreciate it.”
He started laughing then. She sounded like she’d watched way too many cop-shows on TV. Fucking adorable.
“I’ll do my best,” he said and got the smile he wanted from her.
Then he watched her walk out on the back deck and settle into one of the chairs with her phone to her ear. He knew he should start making calls, investigating what the hell he’d done to piss someone off this badly, but kept watching her, feeling warm and happy in the middle of all the shit that was piling up.
“Gib,” Joke said and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking it a little to get his attention. “Thought she was amazing, right off the bat. This morning confirmed it, hugely. And just now? Man, if I could build a woman perfect for you, she would be it. You know this, right?”
Their eyes held and the hard, almost fierce look in Joke’s eyes surprised him.
“Don’t need to tell me,” Gibson said hoarsely. “Got a chance at having a love that shines so fucking bright it’s blinding me, so you do not need to fucking tell me that. I know what I have with her.”
“Yeah,” Joke said after a few stunned seconds.
They’d known each other all their lives, but they were men. They might talk about sex, but they did not talk about feelings, and if they did it was in vague, general terms, typically including grunts and shrugs for emphasis. To hear Gibson of all people put the L-word out there was unexpected, and neither of them seemed to know what to say.
“What I wanna know,” Mac asked into the silence. “Is what the hell happened this morning?”
Jokes eyes softened, and he grinned at Gibson.
Well, crap. They hadn’t talked about keeping what had happened a secret, and Gib didn’t care if his friends knew, but he suspected that Lee wouldn’t appreciate it at all. Jesus, he thought. Had that been just this morning? It felt like a lifetime ago suddenly.
“She makes great fucking pancakes, man,” Joke said with a shrug and added. “Has the good sense to serve them with a side of bacon and mumbled somethi
ng about making biscuits next time. Gib will get himself a nice little Buddha-belly in no time at all.”
Chapter Thirteen
Gibson
Another week passed, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. Lee’s bathroom was completed, so Paddy’s crew went on to replace the kitchen which Gibson told Lee would mean another couple of weeks without water.
“You’re sure it’s okay I stay in your house?”
Was she fucking insane?
“Yeah, Lee. I’m sure.”
That was a pretty massive understatement, and he knew he’d have to talk to her about the whole fuck-buddy deal and how that had changed. She hadn’t used the term again, and surely she knew that by now they were involved in a pretty fucking serious relationship?
“I don’t want to cramp your style,” she said quietly.
“Like having you here. You’re not cramping anything. Promise.” A thought hit him, and he didn’t like it, but he had to get it out there, so he asked, “Unless you want to move? We can talk to Jonah, make them wait with the kitchen.”
“I like being here, Gibson,” she said and looked away. “If you’re okay with it, I don’t need to move back to the cabin.”
His shoulders relaxed, and he grinned.
“Then don’t,” he said, and meant ever but decided it was too soon to spring that on her, so he added casually, “You said you wanted to build something? Want to do that while I get some work done?”
“Yes!” she squealed. “I’ve been thinking about a birdhouse.”
He blinked. He’d meant something simple. Like sanding down a piece of a plank and calling it a cutting board.
“A birdhouse?”
“Just a small one, but pretty. A small opening and a few windows. I could nail it on a bigger piece of wood with an edge, and we could put bird seed there.”
“Not exactly easy to do, babe,” he said slowly.
“Oh, don’t be so negative,” she grinned. “I’m sure I can put something together. I don’t like saws, though, so it would be great if you could help me cutting the bits and bobs I need.”
Bits and bobs? And she didn’t like saws, what the hell did that mean? Any saw? Or electrical ones only? Jigsaws?
“I’ll go and make a drawing.”
He watched her disappear and sighed, resigned to the fact that he’d probably end the day with something hanging in his backyard that would make him shudder every time he saw it.
The drawing she came up with wasn’t half bad, to his surprise. With some small adjustments, she might pull it off, he thought. Or not.
His phone started ringing just as he’d given her the sides of the house and shown her where the drill was. Apparently, the windows would be round on account of the design being “art deco,” and he didn’t argue with her about it because drilling a few holes and calling them windows was a hell of a lot easier than trying to make square windows.
He put the pieces he’d been on his way to cut out for her roof and picked his phone up.
“I’ll be back, babe,” he said.
“Don’t take too long, I’ll need the pieces of wood for the roof soon.”
Soon? She hadn’t even started doing the windows, let alone the so-called door, and then she had to nail the whole thing together. The phones stopped ringing, and he looked down at it, grinned when he saw whose call he missed and moved away with a wave of his hand.
Leaning on a tree just outside the workshop and with the sun on his face, he called his youngest son back.
“Hey, Dad,” Andy said, and Gibson’s smile softened.
He missed his boys.
Andrew had just started college when Gib moved back to Wilhelmine, and like his brothers, he’d stayed in Chicago. He had what Gibson felt must be the most boring job on the entire planet, working as a junior accountant in a mid-size company, although the boy seemed happy enough, so he didn’t share his opinion.
“Hey, Andy,” Gibson murmured and watched Lee try to maneuver the drill in a way that made his smile widen.
They chatted a while about Andy’s job, Gib’s last visit to Chicago and the dinner they’d had, and how summer was coming to an end soon.
“I was thinking I’d come out this weekend,” Andy said. “Take a day off, stay until Monday night.”
Gibson straightened and wondered why the hell he hadn’t thought about that possibility.
“If it’s okay?” Andy probed, sensing that something was off.
“Of course, don’t be an idiot,” Gibson muttered. “You’re always welcome.”
There was a short pause while Gibson tried to figure out how to tell his boy about Lee. He should have told them when they met in Chicago, but he’d… He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t said anything and felt like an idiot for chickening out.
“Dad?”
“What?”
“You got plans already?”
“There’s someone staying here,” Gibson started, looked toward the skies and wondered how a man was supposed to share with his grown-up son that he’d fallen in love for the first time in his fifty-five years, which meant Andrew’s mother had never gotten that.
“Who?”
“A friend,” he stalled.
“Okay, I’ll just bunk on the couch.”
Shit. Okay. Here goes, Gibson thought.
“Gib, where are you?” Lee called out, and he lowered the phone without thinking.
“Out here, babe,” he yelled.
Then he winced, and he did this because he heard his sons startled laughter over the phone and put it back to his ear.
“A friend.”
“Yeah.”
Andy was not letting him off the hook and kept quiet, waiting for an explanation about this friend who was staying with him. He was also chuckling in a way that sounded suspiciously like a snicker.
“Gibson, I’m waiting,” Lee called out, a little louder and with a decided snap in her voice.
“A friend?” Andy prompted him.
Before he could explain, Lee lost her patience, leaned out through the door and shouted, “Gibson Ward you promised to bring me wood, and I need to get my hands on it.”
Jesus.
“Dad?” Andy said in a voice full of laughter. “I think that after the call to the others, which by the way is scheduled for T minus now, we’ll all visit this weekend.”
“Shit,” Gibson muttered, but couldn’t hold the grin out of his voice.
“I’ll text you. We’ll get a car, so you don’t have to pick us up at the airport.”
“Okay,” Gibson said. “Andy…” he trailed off, feeling like a fucking teenager bringing a date home for the first time.
“Yeah,” his boy pushed when he didn’t continue.
“She means something,” Gibson murmured, hoping his son would understand what that meant.
“Better bring her that wood then,” Andy said calmly. “I’ll call Cal and Parks. See you in a couple of days.”
They said their goodbyes and Gibson took a second to collect his thoughts. Okay. Now he’d told his boys about Lee. Which meant that now he just had to figure out how to share their existence with her.
She walked out of the workshop with a huge grin on her face.
“I got the pieces together!” she said proudly. “Can you cut the roof for me please?”
He knew he was stalling but decided to tell her that night instead because the sun was shining, and he wanted to spend a sweet afternoon working with Lee by his side. After dinner and some wine, he’d talk about his boys.
Then he went to his workshop and pretended to sand down a couple of shelves while he watched his woman build a crooked, butt ugly birdhouse. When it was done, they hung it in a tree in his yard. The look on her face told him he hadn’t managed to hide from her what he thought about the piece of shit she’d created, so he pulled her upstairs and consoled her by fucking her hard until she came. Twice.
***
&nbs
p; Dinner and wine were swiftly replaced with bar-food and beers because Paddy and Mac stopped by and told them they’d gather at Oak that night. Lee clapped her hands and reached for her purse before he could protest, and off they went. A gazillion chicken wings later he watched her and Jenny giggling about something and sighed.
“What’s wrong, Gib?” Paddy asked.
“I might have fucked up just a little bit,” he admitted.
“Okay.”
“My boys are coming out this weekend.”
“All three? That’s great.”
“Yeah. Except I haven’t told Lee about them.”
Paddy, Mac, and Joke froze and stared at him.
“You haven’t told her you have three sons?” Joke asked slowly.
Gibson shook his head and watched Lee get up on her toes and whisper something in Jenny’s ear. The taller woman turned to look down at Lee, and her face was soft in a way she rarely showed anyone. Then she grinned and said something which made Lee threw her head back and laugh, and his eyes softened. Lee had been good for him but damned if she hadn’t made an even bigger difference in Jenny.
“Why?” Paddy asked, and he turned to look at his friends.
“I forgot,” he murmured, feeling like an idiot.
“You forgot?” Paddy echoed.
“It’s not like they’re here all the time,” Gibson muttered.
“Gibson,” Paddy said, and it was a command to not shit them or himself.
It should have pissed him off, but as usual, Paddy was fucking annoyingly right.
“Not sure she wants you to know so keep quiet about it, but she can’t have children.” He watched their faces soften, and went on, “She’s fine with it. Dealt with it already as a teenager, lived with the knowledge most her life. Still felt weird, bragging about my boys. So, I didn’t tell her, and yeah. Then I forgot.”
Paddy put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, and Joke muttered a soft, “Shit.”
They stood in silence and watched the women who were making their way toward them.
“You should probably tell her before they arrive,” Mac murmured, with humor in his voice. “They look a lot like you, so she might suspect something when they show up on your doorstep.”
