Almost Just Friends (Wildstone #4)(83)

“Which we’ll use to convince Piper to start up the B and B, right?”

“Right,” he said, and hoped that was even possible. It wouldn’t be easy. “She still wants to go back to school.”

“I know.”

“She deserves that, Win. So much.”

“I know that too. I told you, I tried to get us a loan to buy her out.”

“I know, but I’m not giving up. I’m working on an option that might pan out. Has to pan out. Because Piper’s never failed us, not once.”

Winnie nodded. “So let’s not fail her either.”

“We won’t.”

Winnie leaned forward. “So tell me about this option that might pan out.”

Gavin started to tell her his thoughts when Winnie’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, which she read and froze.

“What?” Gavin asked.

“It’s Jenna. She and Piper just left the scene of a horrific car accident. The storm made the roads slick. A family skidded off the highway on the 101, broke through the railing, and rolled down the hill about three hundred feet. The two kids in the back seat survived, ages three and ten. The parents didn’t make it.”

Gavin felt the nausea roll through him and he set down his fork and pushed away his plate. “Piper?” he asked hoarsely.

Winnie shook her head. “Jenna says she handled the job like a pro, but vanished the minute they got back. She just wanted to give us a heads-up.”

Gavin opened the app the three of them had to track each other’s locations. Once upon a time, Piper had used it to keep tabs on him. Now they used it out of sheer laziness, like when Gavin checked to see which of his two sisters was closer to the grocery store when he needed something. “She’s at the tire swing,” he said.

“Where she goes to be alone. What do we do? Do we let her be alone?”

Hell, he actually wasn’t sure, but Winnie was looking lost and he knew he had to at least appear like he had his shit together.

“Should we try to get in touch with Cam?” Winnie asked.

“Do you want to live?”

Winnie sighed. “I know, right? She’d kill us if we worried him while he was gone to God knows where doing God knows what.”

“She’ll come home when she’s ready, and we’ll be here for her.”

But it took her longer than he’d thought it would. It was way past dark, and he was in his room alternately watching TV and eyeballing his phone for both Piper’s location and a call or text from CJ when there came a soft knock at his door.

He opened up, not surprised to see Piper in what she called her “birth control outfit”: sweats that swallowed her whole, hair piled on top of her head, no makeup, feet stuffed into rainboots.

“Our parents died,” she whispered.

He pulled her inside and into his arms as she cracked in half. “I know,” he said, throat tight as she shuddered and began to cry against his chest. “I know.”

She let him hold her for a long moment, during which time she got his shirt all soggy with her tears, before lifting her face. “I’m sorry.”

He gave her a small smile. “Because you just slimed me?”

She managed a weak laugh. “No, I’m not sorry about that.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted so much time trying to boss you around into a life you never wanted.”

“Hey, it’s never a waste of time if you learn something.”

She shook her head, not ready for humor. “I’ve never acted like your sister. And I don’t let you talk about Mom and Dad, and I’m sorry for that too. Or if I made you feel like I didn’t like taking care of you and Winnie, or that you were a burden—”

“You were thirteen,” he interrupted, pulling her farther into his room, sitting her in the chair by the window, turning for the bottle of Jack he used to keep on his dresser back when he was using. But it’d been tossed long ago. And wasn’t this a first, wishing for alcohol—not for himself, but to help someone with. “You were put into a terrible, tragic situation that no thirteen-year-old should ever have to deal with. Hell . . .” He rubbed a hand down his face. “If I’d been the oldest . . . Christ, I can’t even imagine that responsibility. I’d have lost you and Winnie, or accidentally killed one of you for sure. We were lucky to have you. Now please stop blaming yourself for my problems. I can be a sneaky asshole when I want to be, and I’ve wanted to be. But I’ve learned how destructive that is.” He paused. “Now you.”

“Me? What do you mean? I’m not in the danger zone.”

He just looked at her.

“I’m fine, Gavin.”

“You’re not. You’re still pushing away all emotions and reacting to everything like it’s . . . I don’t know . . . a job.”

“Such as?” she asked coolly.

“See? That,” he said, pointing at her. “I’m asking for feelings and you’re giving me calm logic. Do you know how much it sucks to be someone who loves you but can’t reach you?”

She blinked, and he could tell that her first reaction was hurt, and then resignation.

“I know,” she said quietly. “But sometimes, I just . . .”