“It still doesn’t make this any easier.”
“The world isn’t black and white. It’s a wonderful mixture of the two that has a lot of blurry lines, and if you care what people do and say, you have a long life ahead of you, honey.” She sits across from me and folds her hands on the table. “Trust your gut, and remember what led you back to him in the first place.”
She gets up, kisses me on the head, and walks down the hallway. Her words, however, stay behind.
Kallie
The dog across the street barks, breaking the late-night silence. My car starts up, the lights shining into the living room as I back down the driveway.
My stomach is all twisted, an ulcer beginning to form somewhere in the pit of my bowels. No matter what I do—read, sing, or create—I can’t stop thinking about Cross.
Walking five miles just got me a sore hamstring, doing the dishes left me with a sliced finger, and I’ve sung the hell out of my favorite playlist on my phone. Through it all, I’ve thought about him.
It’s those first nights in Indiana all over again. It’s the emptiness in my soul, the craving to love and be loved…by him, only him. It’s only ever been him.
My ex-boyfriend didn’t help that. Maybe he distracted me for a bit, but the hole in my heart just started to fill recently.
The car glides down the street, heading into town, the streetlights getting more frequent as I go. The clock reads almost one in the morning, and my body shivers against the cool summer night.
A peace settles over me as I drive. I’m more confident in this decision than I’ve ever been. It’s right. I’ve never felt stronger about something, not even when I left him the first time. I’m not the same person as I was then. Neither is he. Why would I think we’d be the same as we were then now?
Screw the rumors.
Fuck the gossips.
To Hell with being unsure.
Life is a risk and, at the end of the day, his love is the surest bet I can make. It’s at least worth a shot.
A set of headlights comes my way and the driver clicks them down, turning off the brights. As we pass, I glance over my shoulder and see Cross’s face.
My heart leaps in my chest as his tail lights come on in the rear view, his tires squealing as he rips the truck around. Before I know what’s happening, he’s behind me, traveling in the same direction.
The high school is a block ahead and I turn my turn signal on in hopes he’ll slow down a bit and get off my ass. My throat is constricted as I pull in, my blood pounding in my veins as I stop the car. He’s out of his truck and around the front before I ever even get the door open. He does the honors for me.
His hair is wild, his shirt soaked with sweat. “You okay?”
My feet on the asphalt, I stand and breathe him in. “I was coming to look for you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head.
“Dammit, Kal—”
I take the words out of his mouth with my own, pressing my lips against his so quickly it shocks him. My hands go to his damp hair, urging him to kiss me harder. I need this. I need…him.
He finally pulls away, dragging in a lungful of air. “Kallie?”
“I am sorry,” I say, resting my forehead on his.
“It was me that had her in my truck.”
“And it was my insecurities that let that matter. I mean, yeah, don’t do it again”—I laugh—“but you didn’t exactly do something wrong.”
“It was wrong if it makes you feel anything but great.” He wraps me up in his arms, pulling me to his chest. “I was at the gym, working out, and all I could see was you standing there mad at me.”
“I was sitting on my bed and kept thinking about how last night I was in yours, how many nights I wished to be there, and how tonight I wasn’t because I was mad, like a child.”
He squeezes me tighter. “I was also wrong when I said I couldn’t make you love me. I damn sure am going to try for the rest of my life.”
My hand stills on his back, his heartbeat picking up against my cheek. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that being with you, at least trying it again, isn’t settling for anything other than the possibility of … everything I’ve ever wanted.”
My words cause his heart to rapid-fire and I pull away. “Cross?”
“I want to marry you,” he whispers under the lights of the parking lot. “But I want to ask your mother before I ask you, and I want to find the perfect ring and the perfect spot first. You deserve that.”
“I don’t need any of that,” I say, choking back a sob. I’m so desperate for him, my chest coming undone and overflowing. “I just need you. I’m never letting you go again.”
“Damn right you’re not.” His body shakes with his chuckle. “Do you want to ride with me back to my house or have me follow you?”
Grinning through my tears, I pull away and look into his spectacular green eyes. “Follow me.”
“The view of your behind is one of my favorites.”
I swat at his arm, but he pulls me in for a quick kiss instead.
“Hey, Cross?”
“Yeah?”
I grab his hand and lace our fingers together. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Epilogue
Cross
A few weeks later
“Why does golf always end up with fucking? Not that I’m complaining.” He grins, looking at me over his shoulder.
The streetlights create shadows in the cab of his truck as we make our way back to his house after a night of fun. We watched a chick flick that he hated, ate seafood that I hated, then capped it off with four holes of putt-putt before we turned our sticks in and parked on the first desolate back road we found so we could have sex.
“I guess you like the way I handle balls,” I suggest, making him laugh. “Really? I don’t know. It’s weird though.”
“I guess it’s not that different from anything else we do. Dinner?”
“Fucking.”
“Laundry?”
“Oh, I love when we do it on spin cycle,” I note.
“Painting the back porch?”
“Yeah, but sex in public isn’t my thing. You caught me on a bad day.” I giggle.
“First of all, it’s not public. Second, I was thinking it was a really, really good day.”
Grinning, I blow out a breath and settle into the seat.
Being in Linton has changed everything for me—finding Cross again, reconnecting with my mother, finding a career in a firm that’s a lot quieter, but more fulfilling.
When I was younger, all I wanted was to get out of my hometown. Everything here was full of drama and complications and distractions. Even now, it’s not without its faults. That’s for sure. I still deal with the whispers of women who want Cross, still hear murmurings at the soda fountain at Goodman’s while I get my daily drink, but now that I’m older and maybe a little wiser, none of that matters. All that matters is the way he looks at me.
“Crave is up ahead. Want to go in for a while?” Cross asks. “Machlan wanted to talk to me about expanding his business. I thought it might be a good investment.”
“Sure, but do you think you can talk to him on a Friday night? Crave is always so busy.”
“If not, at least we’ll be entertained. I’m sure something is going on in there. Peck will be there. That’s promising enough.”
I laugh.
He pulls the truck over to the side of the street. We climb out and he grabs my hand like he always does but stops and starts digging around in his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he furrows his brow and drops my hand.
“Fucking great,” he mutters, shoving the device back in his pocket.
“What was that all about?” I say, taking his hand again.
“Hadley is coming home.”
“Don’t look so happy about it,” I laugh as we head towards the bar. “Don’t you want to see your sister?”
“Yup. I just don’t want to do it here.”
“And why not?”
He nods towards the building. “Machlan. Hadley comes and it becomes a war around here and I’m in the middle of it. They subscribe to some hate love bullshit. They need to pick a side and go.”
“Could be fun,” I tease. “Imagine the hate sex.”
“I could never hate you. But,” he says, grabbing my ass, “I could subscribe to that too for a while if that’s what you want.”
“Too? What else you subscribing to over there, Cross?” I laugh.
He stops and stands in front of me. His green eyes look like slices of pure jade in the hazy streetlights. “I subscribe to one theory, and one theory only.”
“What’s that?”
“To keep you wanting to be my girl.”
“Always.”
The End
Want to read more of the Gibson Boys? Walker’s story, CRANK, and Lance’s story, CRAFT, are available now on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited, as well as on Audible. Machlan’s story, CRAVE, and Peck’s story, CRAZY, will be out later this year.
For now, keep reading for two Gibson Boys short stories.
Restraint
A Gibson Boy Short Story
One
Holt
“Watch where you’re going.”
I quirk a brow at the man that just bumped my shoulder. He reads me correctly and mutters a half-assed apology, just as I switch my brown leather briefcase into the other hand — maybe to avoid a confrontation and maybe to get a hand free for one. It’s up to him.
The stars must align in his favor because the next thing I know, he’s scurrying to the other side of the partition separating us.
It crosses my mind, once again, that I could avoid this. I could forgo the hassle of airports altogether if I’d just wear down and buy a private jet. Oliver Mason, one of my younger brothers, keeps bringing it up, but I keep vetoing the idea. It’s not the money. It’s the pretentiousness of it all. Unless you’re flying weekly or have more money than brains, owning your own jet is a sign you need attention. It’s the more affluent version of the middle aged, balding man driving a cherry red sports car and I have no trouble getting attention without an overpriced toy.