Crazy (The Gibson Boys #4)(45)

“This have anything to do with that hot little thing Machlan was telling me about last night?”

I unlock the driver’s side door and toss my keys in the cup holder. “When did this family turn into a bunch of gossiping assholes?”

“I dunno, but it’s better than everyone having a stick up their ass.” He laughs. “So does it?”

“Fuck you,” I say, shaking my head.

“That’s a yes. Good for you.”

A car pulls up beside Vincent. A woman who works at Carlson’s sometimes gets out. She waves at me before giving my brother a long, leisurely once-over. He nods at her in the subtlest way, as if to say, “I see you but haven’t decided if it’s worth a full nod yet.”

I sigh. “How did you even see Machlan last night? I left the bar around eleven or so, and he was still there.”

“He sent me a text after they closed, and I met him in the apartment over Crave. We just shot the shit for a while.” He fiddles with the bag again. “It’s kind of nice being back home.”

I kick at a pebble on the ground, thinking the same thing. It’s nice having him home. Sure, I have my cousins, and they’re great, but there’s a different bond between brothers.

“Where’s Sawyer?” I ask.

“Happy as a pig in shit with Nana,” he says with a laugh. “She let him have cherry pie for breakfast. Now he’s out back fixing up that treehouse in the woods. Kid won’t want to go home.” He gazes into the distance. “He’s happy here.”

“Yeah, well, what’s not to be happy about?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I get sick of everyone every once in a while.”

“I can see that.”

“It doesn’t take long to get your fill of Lance,” he jokes. “What’s that fucker doing now, anyway? I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Still teaching. Engaged to Mariah. Adopting a kid. Living the life,” I say. “I’m sure he’ll be at Nana’s for dinner after church tomorrow.”

He nods. Pressing off the truck, he runs his hands through his hair again. “I forgot about church. Shit. I don’t think I brought anything decent for me or Sawyer to wear.”

“Nana won’t care. She’ll just be glad to have you there.”

“That’s true. She’s made it very, very clear over the past twenty-four hours that she’s happy to have us here.”

“I’m sure she is. She doesn’t get to see you or Blaire enough. Speaking of Blaire, she’s coming home for a visit too I heard.”

“I haven’t seen her in forever.” He kicks at the ground, his smile faltering. “How’s Nana? Really?”

“What do you mean?”

His shoulders rise and fall as a storm brews inside his eyes. “I mean, she looks good. She is good, right?”

Concern is stretched over his face as he awaits my response. Guilt too—the regret of a grandson who hasn’t been around a lot.

“She’s okay,” I say. “We take good care of her. Have a system. I do her medicines, and Machlan takes her for her hair appointment and shopping. Walker fixes shit. Lance pays her bills. Sienna, Mariah, and Hadley help with housework as much as she’ll let them. You know how she is.” I shrug. “But … she’s getting old. You know that.”

Just saying that out loud pummels me. I never thought about a life without Nana. And then she had a heart attack and seeing her in that hospital bed struck a chord inside me that I haven’t been able to shake.

She was so pale. So … lifeless. I watched her lay there with those monitors beeping, the only thing that let me know she was alive and prayed. I told God I’d do whatever he asked of me if he just let Nana be all right.

“I worry about her,” Vincent says. “I mean, she was more like a mother to us than our own mom.”

“It wasn’t Mom’s fault. Dad kept her on the edge all the time.”

Vincent’s eyes flash with a shot of anger that has me taking a step back. “No. She doesn’t get that excuse. Once you’re a parent, your loyalties lie with your kids. Period. She let Dad run all over her. That was a choice.”

I want to argue that because I don’t quite agree. But it would be hard considering we haven’t seen or heard from our parents in a couple of years. Who knows where they are?

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking about moving back,” Vincent says. “Might be good for Sawyer.”

“Yeah, well, it might be good for you too.”

We exchange a smile.

“It’s a lot to think about,” he says. “Sawyer has a great school and a lot of friends. We have a nice little neighborhood with all the fucking fences and flags and shit. I even have a home owner’s association.”

I burst out laughing. “So that’s why you’re thinking about moving? They’re kicking you out.”

“Not yet,” he jokes. “But they probably would’ve if I hadn’t fucked the president a couple of times. That got me out of a few fines.”

“Only a couple?” I tease.

“She was kind of married,” he says, cringing. “But I didn’t know that until later. I told her that despite my reputation, I do have some standards. Or one,” he corrects. “I won’t bang married chicks.”