Crazy (The Gibson Boys #4)(11)

“That’s what I want. I mean, it’s not asking for too much to want to see me as a human being and not just as some … tool to helping them get what they want, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why does that feel selfish sometimes?”

I frown. The vulnerability of talking about this feels as if I’m bleeding right in front of Navie, and I loathe it. The back of my neck tightens as I war with myself whether to shut this conversation down while I can or to open up to the one person who gets me.

“It feels selfish because that’s what society tells us to think, and it’s bullshit,” she says. “You don’t have to take the gas out of your tank to fill everyone else up. You’re allowed to keep some of your energy and spirit for yourself.”

She’s right—or I hope she’s right, anyway. My tank is so empty I can hear it rattle, and it’s because it can’t run on empty promises.

I need help bailing Reed out of jail. I know you just got your bonus at work. You don’t mind helping your family, do you?

Koty’s electricity is going to get turned off. I’m sorry it’ll cost you all your play money again this month, but you need to do this for your sister. She’s going to look for a job next week. She’d do it for you.

I spent the last of my savings to take Koty for a spa day. Poor girl was so upset about the divorce and all that I just needed to perk her up. Now I can’t pay my cable bill. There’s nothing to do here but watch television. I can see depression right around the corner. Unless, of course, you’re going to help me out.

I sigh.

It was one thing after another. If I said no to any of it, despite the fact that Reed will just get thrown back in jail again in a couple of weeks and Koty wouldn’t bother giving me a drink of water if I were dying of thirst, then I get the silent treatment. It’s the same treatment I get if I need help. But, on the contrary, if I jump when they need me, I get invited to family cookouts. I have to fight for my place in that family. And I’m tired of it.

“I just hate feeling like this—like me doing something for me, setting some actual boundaries, isn’t okay. Like, I know it makes sense. I do. I need to be able to live and grow and not exist for them. But last night when I laid here and closed my eyes, I felt this twist in my gut, and I started second-guessing everything again.”

“Don’t.”

She gets off the chair and takes the three steps to me. She nudges me with her hip until I scoot over and she can drop beside me.

A lump grows in my throat as she looks at me with the kindest eyes.

“Listen, Dylan. You weren’t put onto this planet to be Reed’s clean-up crew. Your brother is a grown ass man, and he chooses over and over again to screw up his life. It’s not your problem anymore. Heck, it never was.”

“I know.”

My admission must lack enough gusto for Navie to believe it because she continues.

“And Koty is a decent person,” she says about my sister. “And I hate that her husband left her and the kids behind, but you can’t be expected to foot the damn bill for their lives. At some point, she has to grow up and take care of things herself. And even if you say no, they should still love you. It’s bullshit how they treat you. I don’t know how you took it this long.”

I settle my gaze on a mirror facing me on the opposite wall. It’s an odd picture—me sitting with Navie on her couch when I was in my own home just a few days ago. It’s almost hard to believe the reflection is true.

But it is.

I don’t want to think too much about it. If I do, the tightness in my chest will be back. And the headaches. And … No. Stop, Snow. New place. New start. New me.

“Okay,” I say, getting up and finding my computer. “Honey and jam ice cream, or should we try the whiskey and pecan?”

Navie shakes her head.

“Right,” I say. “Both.”

Click!





Five





Peck



“I think it’s a great idea.”

Machlan looks at me from the other side of the bar. The look on his face is fairly unreadable. It could be that he’s pretending my suggestion is terrible. But there’s a remote chance he’s contemplating my proposal for a new weekend activity at Crave with the seriousness it deserves. A small chance, but a chance nonetheless.

“Peck,” he begins. “Shut up.”

“Think about it,” I say, not shocked he reverted to dismissing my moment of brilliance. “Move the pool tables to the side and add a giant bull right in the center and let people ride it. I saw this thing once where—”

“Pretty sure that’s a violation of my insurance policy.”

“Then your policy is a pussy.” I tear at the label on my beer. “What about a wet T-shirt contest?”

“I think Hadley would find the idea of women dancing on top of bars with their T-shirts soaked so everyone can see their nipples kind of in bad taste.”

“Karaoke?”

Machlan tips his head back and looks at the ceiling.

“Fine,” I say. “Belly shots. It’s a tried-and-true way to increase revenue. I mean, I don’t have facts to back that up, but I just don’t know how you can go wrong with it.”