Almost Just Friends (Wildstone #4)(27)

“It’s true,” Winnie said. “The sunrise was gorg.”

“Yeah. Probably because it was the first time you’ve ever seen one.”

Gavin laughed and bumped fists with Piper.

“Hey,” Winnie said, pouting. “I’ve seen a sunrise. Once. When I got the stomach flu and was up all night puking . . .”

“That was a hangover,” Piper said.

“Oh. Right.”

Piper looked at Gavin. He was still smiling, looking young and carefree, and it pinched her heart. “And you. You used to hate mornings.”

He shrugged. “I caught us dinner. You’ll love it.”

“Emmitt’s been wanting to get out on the water,” Winnie said. “You gotta remember, he’s only owned the marina for five years. Rowan handled most of the boat maintenance, but he got behind. I had no idea, but it turns out Cam’s the one who taught Rowan everything he knew.” Winnie’s eyes went a little shiny. “He’s a really good guy too.”

Piper suspected that was very true. Which wasn’t the comfort it should’ve been because she didn’t want to fall for him. She just wanted to get naked with him.

Quite badly.

“You guys don’t even live here anymore,” she said. “How do you know more about my neighbors than I do?”

Winnie shrugged. “Because we don’t break out into hives when we have to be social?”

Gavin winced and gave her a small head shake. “Harsh.”

Winnie sighed. “I’m sorry. Piper knows what I mean.” She hopped off the counter. “I’m going to shower. Don’t anyone use hot water. For a few.”

“You mean an hour?” Gavin asked her back. “Cuz that’s how long your showers last.”

“Shut it!” came down the stairs.

Piper looked at her brother, who was now on his laptop, fingers racing across the keyboard. “Weren’t you going to look into the hot-water tank situation for me?”

“Actually, Winnie’s on it. She’s really becoming quite the handyman. Er—handywoman.”

“Okay.” Piper didn’t actually believe this, mostly because Winnie wasn’t big on manual labor. Or any kind of labor. But whatever. “How about the toaster? You get a chance to fix that?”

“No. But later, I promise.”

She waited, but he didn’t say anything more. Or even look up at her. “Gavin, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Something,” she insisted.

He shrugged. “I’m just tired.”

She got that, but this was more. “It’s unlike you to be so . . .”

He looked up. “So what? Useless?”

“Not the word I was going to use.”

“Good, because I’m not useless, at least not completely. For instance, I can be used as a really bad example.” He was trying to lighten the mood. He’d been doing that all his life.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re not acting like yourself.” Yes, he was still the same laid-back and easygoing “no worries” kid he’d always been, and sharp and funny as usual, but there were haunted shadows in his eyes, and that worried her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

She perched a hip on the kitchen table. “Try again.”

He sat up, shoved his hands through his hair, and then rose to his feet. He looked her right in the eyes and said, “Listen, I get that you mean well, but it’s okay. You did it, you got me to adulthood. I’m now tired by eight P.M., mostly pay bills on time, and love ibuprofen. Happy? I can make you a certificate of acknowledgment if you like, noting that your mothering duties are hugely appreciated and have been credentialed, signaling the end of your obligation.”

This cut her to the very core, but she pulled a page from Cam’s book and remained calm, holding eye contact. “I’m well aware. Just as I’m also aware you’re acting weirdly defensive. Did you get another DUI?”

“No. Christ.” He started to stalk off, but stopped to look at her, into her, and she felt anxiety crawl up her throat and block her air passageway.

“What do you remember of Mom and Dad?” he asked.

This completely threw her. “What? We just talked about this.”

“No, I talked, you evaded. Because in fact, we never talk about them.”

“Gavin, where is this coming from?”

He sat back down, heavily, like his legs were lead. “I’m losing my memories of them and don’t want to.”

The air in her lungs escaped in one whoosh, and she sat down too. “Oh, Gavin.” She drew in a deep breath. “Sometimes . . . sometimes forgetting’s the only way to lose the pain.”

“Wow.” He shook his head. “That’s some serious bullshit right there, Piper.”

“It’s called a coping mechanism.”

“It’s denial, and trust me, denial’s bad for you.” He stood and walked off.

Okay, so once again, she’d said the wrong thing. She was getting really good at that, but then again, she’d had a lot of practice.

AT WORK, PIPER rode shotgun to Jenna. The day had been full already and it was barely noon. They’d patched up a trucker who’d picked up a hitchhiker and then gotten robbed and beaten up for his efforts. Then there was the contractor who’d stepped on his own shovel and gotten whacked in the face. Now they’d just left the hospital after a drop-off—a teenage pregnancy gone wrong thanks to an overdose.