Crazy (The Gibson Boys #4)(70)

“I’ve always cared about you.”

“But you’ve always said you love me too. Now you don’t.”

I sigh. “I do … love you, just not like I …”

I can’t bring myself to say the words to her—not before I find the courage to say them to Dylan first.

“So what happens to me now?” she asks, wiping the tears with her hands. “You’re the only person in the world who likes me.”

“Well, that’s not true. But you could attempt at being a little more likable. That wouldn’t hurt.”

“Everybody already has their mind made up about me.” She sniffles. “I don’t even think it matters what I do anymore.”

“Stop mean-mugging everyone,” I say, bumping her with my shoulder. “And taunting people. And …” I wait until she looks at me. “And show people who you are. Let your guard down a bit. Give people a chance.”

“They already hate me.”

“They don’t hate you because they don’t know you, and instead of showing them who you really are, you just feed into their assumptions.”

I look back at the house. Desperation to get to Dylan eats at me, but I know I need to have this conversation.

“I’m not like her,” Molly says. “I’m not all cheerleader-y sweet.”

“She’s not always sweet,” I joke. “But honestly, listen to me. You are better than what you show the world. Deep down inside that little black heart of yours is a girl who’s funny. And fun. And thoughtful.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Remember the time you brought me that friendship bracelet?” I tease.

“I was eight.”

“And you told me if I told anyone that you’d kill me. But,” I say as we both laugh, “it proves you got it in ya.”

“Maybe.”

“You do. I know it.”

We sit quietly, the crickets chirping around us as Molly digests my advice. I have no idea where all that came from, but I’m glad it did. I’m even more glad that she seems to be listening.

I stand, and she follows suit. We trudge our way back up the driveway. Some of the lights inside have been switched off.

We reach Molly’s car and stop. She looks up at me with mascara streaks painted down her cheeks.

“Are we still friends?” she asks.

“I told you a long time ago that I’ll always have your back. And I will. But I’m not the same person I was a month ago.”

“Do you think she’s changed you that much?”

“No. I don’t think she’s changed me. I think she’s shown me things about me and about life. She’s given me hope, you know?”

“I need someone to give me hope.”

“You work on you. Stop worrying about everyone else and looking for someone else to validate you, Mol. Use that power you have for good instead of evil.”

We exchange a smile.

“Thanks, Peck.”

“Anytime.” I start toward the house but stop. “No. Wait. Not anytime.” I face her. “Real quick—I’ll always be your friend, but we gotta have some boundaries.”

“I don’t do well with those.” The corner of her lip turns toward the sky. “I’m kidding.”

“Just … no coming by here unless you’re running from zombies. And probably shouldn’t text or call, you know? And Dylan is a great girl.”

“I’m good with all this, but can we leave off that last part?” she jokes.

I think.

“It would serve you well to make friends with her,” I say.

She opens her car door and climbs in. “I’m sure your girlfriend wants to be my friend.” She rolls her eyes.

“You never know.”

“Yeah. See ya later.”

“Bye.”

I head back toward the house. I hear her car door shut and the engine start, followed by the tell-tale sound of gravel crunching as she backs out.

I don’t look back.

The front door is partially open, and I step inside. “Dylan?” I walk through the house until I find her standing in her bedroom. Not mine. “What’s going on? What about the movie?”

“I got tired.”

“Oh.” I look around. She’s pulled her blankets down like she’s preparing to climb inside. “You sleeping in here tonight?”

“I didn’t want to go to your room without you.”

That makes sense, but I don’t like it.

“We could bring some blankets into the living room and turn the movie on,” I say. “Wanna?”

“I’m not really in the mood.” She blows out a breath. “I guess seeing you walk outside to talk to another woman kind of fucked up my energy flow or something.”

I reach for her. She lets me take her hand and pull her against me. I wrap my arms around her as tightly as I can and nuzzle my face into her hair.

“You could’ve come out there with me,” I say.

“I know. I’m just … jealous.”

The thought makes me smile. I’m a total dick. “Well, so you know, because it’s important to me that you do know—I told her not to come by. Or call. Or text. Or be a jerk to you or anyone else, actually.”