Crazy (The Gibson Boys #4)(7)

“Fate didn’t decide that. You did,” she deadpans.

“I’d rather be karma than fate. Anyway, I did my greatest Best Friend Fuck You speech, and he promised to stay away from you and bring back your pots and pans. I think that’s a total win. You can thank me later.”

I pluck at the hem of my shirt. How nice would it be to be karma? To have the powers of justice and fairness? That might be better than endless tacos.

A girl can dream.

“You know,” Navie says, “I don’t even think I want the shit back. I’d rather just forget he exists at all.”

“I’ve had those.”

“Had those what?”

“Those guys you wish didn’t exist.” I drop the edge of my shirt. “Case in point: Charlie. I’d rather forget that I was left after committing a year to a relationship because he realized that he didn’t love me—that he couldn’t possibly love me because he truly loves Vanessa.” I sigh. “Or take this one guy I dated once. Super cute. Looked hygienic. Paid for dinner and let me pick some movies. But there was this one night,” I say, feeling my stomach rumble as the memory comes back to me. “I got up in the middle of the night to pee and legit stepped in his urine. The dude sprayed all over the floor, and it was on my foot.”

Navie makes a gagging noise, and I try not to throw up in my mouth.

“I wish I could forget they both exist,” I say, fighting off a shiver.

“I bet you do. That’s how I feel about Logan. I didn’t even really like him. I’m just pissed off he took my kitchen utensils and then ghosted me. He was just a stupid fling. I don’t know what I saw in him in the first place.”

Logan’s face flutters through my mind. His bright blue eyes and almost shy, yet mischievous smile light a bubble of excitement in my stomach.

I snort. “I do,” I say before I can catch myself.

“What?”

“I saw him. He’s cute, Navie.”

“Dylan …”

“I mean, he’s an asshole,” I say, getting to my feet. “We know that. But it’s not hard to see why you took him up on whatever offer he threw down.”

She groans. “He’s not that cute. I have guys in the bar every night cuter than him.”

“Then I think it’s time that I accompany you to work.”

“Not tonight,” she says. “Machlan just left, and I’m here alone. I can’t protect the men from you.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. See ya when you get home.”

“Adios.”

I end the call and toss my phone onto the couch. The apartment is ridiculously quiet—even quieter than my apartment in Indiana. There are no neighbors fighting or talk shows seeping through the walls. Heck, there’s not even the smell of burnt pizza. Everything is just … still.

It’s very Navie, very calm-in-the-storm. She always has a way of doing that. Riots and chaos can be going on, and Navie is the one in the middle doing yoga.

We met on the first day of kindergarten and bonded over chocolate pudding as finger paint. We were virtually inseparable until she left to come here.

I was devastated when she left, but I understood. If my family is difficult, hers is toxic. Seeing her so happy and adjusted here makes the months I spent without her okay. I’m just glad to be here with her, my only real friend, now too.

I study the length and try to guess how many steps it would take to get from one to the other when a movement catches my eye outside the window. I slink over to the curtain.

Logan walks up to the front door with a big box in his hand.

“Victory is mine,” I whisper as I reach for the door handle. I yank it open. “Well, hello there.”

He grins over the top of the box. His teeth are white and straight, his hat pulled down over his forehead.

“I was going to leave this here,” he says, tapping on a box of pots and pans.

He’s the enemy, Dylan. Be strong.

He shoves the box toward me. “Since you opened the door, here you go.”

I take the box and set it inside. I should flash him a tight smile and close the door, but I’m only human. Besides, I’m not the queen of karma, so I should probably have manners.

For karma’s sake.

“I’m happy to see you bringing those by,” I say, clearing my throat. “Even though they aren’t her old ones, they’ll do.”

“I couldn’t find the old ones.”

“Pawned them.”

He fights a laugh. “I’m doing the best I can here, okay?”

I lean against the doorframe and take him in. He’s so disarming with his blond hair poking out the sides of his cap and tall, lanky frame. And no man should have lashes that long. It’s just not fair.

But it is proof that everyone is a disappointment. I’ve speculated for years that no one actually cares about other people anymore, and this Logan thing proves it. By looking at him, you’d think he was the kind boy-next-door type when, in reality, he’s a hedonistic jerk. It’s very disappointing.

It’s either that, or I set my standards way too high.

Like top of the ozone layer too high.

“Navie will appreciate you being a man about this after all,” I say.

“Yup. Logan is a real winner.”