Almost Just Friends (Wildstone #4)(22)

They’re annoying.

They’re a waste of time.

They’re stupid.



“All true,” he acknowledged. “But that doesn’t tell me why you’re here. In the pantry. At midnight.”

“Go back to bed before you turn into a pumpkin.” She accompanied this with a go-away shooing gesture.

“And what about you? You won’t turn into a pumpkin?”

“I’d have to believe in fairy tales for that,” she said.

“Pretty cynical for thirty-one.”

She slid him a death glare. “Thirty. And I will kill you where you stand.”

He laughed, and it sounded rusty even to his own ears, but it felt good. “I missed you,” he heard himself say, startling the both of them.

She stared at him for a beat and then into the bag, like it held the secrets of life. “Funny way of showing it, staying away for so long.”

Two months of rehab. Six months of trying to make it stick. He’d hit a bit of a pothole in the making-amends portion of his recovery. Like the rest of his life, this part wasn’t going to be easy. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Worry was a groove between her brows. “You ever going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, now that I’m home.” He paused. “Do you miss them, Piper?”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Mom and Dad? Of course. Always.”

“You don’t talk about them. You never talk about them.” And he needed to. Wanted to.

But she’d closed up on herself. “Of course I do.”

“Yeah? When was the last time?”

“On Mom’s birthday last month. I texted you that I’d put flowers on their graves and sent you a pic.”

Which wasn’t the same thing as talking about them, remembering them, keeping them alive in their minds, but Gavin knew better than to push Piper when she had that stubborn expression on her face.

“Are you homesick?” she asked. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly, wishing he could reach her, knowing he couldn’t.

“I missed you too, Gav. I did. But realistically, how long do you think the three of us can live together without bloodshed?”

He shrugged, knowing she was right and hating that. “It’ll be a crapshoot. Come on,” he said, suddenly exhausted. “At least go find somewhere more comfortable to be alone.”

She shrugged, and it gave him a chest pain, because he realized she honestly didn’t think she deserved to have even a few real moments to herself. She had to hide to get them. Until now, he hadn’t been exactly sure what had brought him home, but he thought maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been a solely selfish undertaking to save himself. Maybe, he hoped, he could do some saving of his own.





Chapter 7


“Our history is water under the bridge. It’s gone, and I’m not into regrets.”

Piper’s next shift was a doozy. She and Jenna transported a violent drunk who’d walked through a glass door. He’d been opposed to the ride, in spite of the fact he’d been cut up pretty good, and Piper had gotten punched in the jaw for her efforts. Now her head hurt and she wanted food and a bed, but first she did as she usually did: she went to the marina to check on Emmitt.

And maybe also hoping for a glimpse of the last man she’d slept with. Even though all they’d done was kiss, it—and him—had been starring in her daydreams ever since. She was almost afraid to see him, afraid she’d turn back into the woman who’d thrown herself at him because of a lightning bolt. She had no idea who that woman had been. Not her. At least not the grown-up version of her.

She found both Emmitt and Cam outside the marina office, buried headfirst in the engine compartment of a boat.

They came up for air when they heard her footsteps, and her gaze landed on Cam. He looked at her right back, and she wondered if he even realized that she’d revealed a far-too-vulnerable side of herself to him that for the most part she’d managed to hide from the rest of the world.

Emmitt cleared his throat, sounding amused.

Piper shook her head to clear it and pointed at him. “You’re not supposed to be doing this sort of thing.”

“Because of the diabetes?” Cam asked with a frown.

Emmitt sighed. “No. Because of my leg. I’m not supposed to be on it for any length of time due to the neuropathy.”

“Jesus, Dad,” Cam said. “What if you fell into the lake? You could’ve drowned.”

Emmitt rolled his eyes and wiped his dirty hands on the bottom of his T-shirt, which, for the record, read: I MIGHT BE OLD, BUT I GOT TO SEE ALL THE COOL BANDS. “I was practically born in the water,” he said. “I could swim if I was dead.”

“Which could happen if you don’t start taking better care of yourself,” Cam said. He took what looked like a screw gun out of Emmitt’s hand. “I’ve got this, okay?”

“Come on, Emmitt, let me check you over,” Piper said.

Emmitt made a universally male sound that said she was a pain in his ass. “You know I love you, but damn, woman, you’re bossy as hell. Anyone ever tell you that?”

She couldn’t help but take a quick glance at Cam—who’d also made note of her bossiness. He was rubbing his jaw, fighting either a smile or a grimace of agreement.