Right Where We Belong (Silver Springs #4)(83)

“I’m not convinced such a small potential for success will be worth causing him to turn his hatred on you.”

“He could screw up,” she insisted. “Who knows? He’s out of his element, must be feeling some panic.”

“About whether or not he’ll be going to prison?”

“That, too. But he’s a bit antisocial to begin with. Doesn’t like being around people—hates a crowd, especially. Being crammed into such a small space with so many other men has to be a daily struggle for him. Think of the lack of privacy. He can’t even go to the bathroom without feeling as though he’s on display.”

“You’re assuming the stress of his situation will make the difference.”

“I’m not assuming. I’m hoping.”

“That’s not very likely.”

“I know,” she said. But what else could she do?

*

Gavin didn’t go to Savanna’s that night. He wanted to talk to her, felt as though he needed to talk to her, since he’d disappeared from the barbecue after that highly charged encounter in his old bedroom without even saying goodbye. She had to be wondering at his inconsistent behavior. But he had to gain some perspective on the situation first, had to make sure he hadn’t made a drastic mistake telling Heather he wasn’t ready to try again. He didn’t want to swing back and forth between the two like a wrecking ball. But duty warred so perfectly with desire that he felt torn in half. When duty got the better of him, he feared he’d never be able to live with himself for making the choice he’d made with Heather. When desire got the best of him, he believed he’d never really had a choice.

In an effort to quiet his mind, he played the guitar for a couple of hours, but even that didn’t have the soothing effect it normally did. I don’t want your filthy bastard growing up in my house... He kept hearing those words over and over in his head.

Was Heather at Scott’s right now, trying to make up with him? And would he let her? It was entirely possible that he’d just been talking when he came out to New Horizons...

Gavin feared he’d abandoned his child in all the ways that counted most—done the one thing he’d promised himself he would never do, and he couldn’t seem to get past it. Finally, he called Eli to see if his brother would meet him in town for a drink.

It was a Sunday night, and they both had to work in the morning. Gavin thought Eli would most likely decline, but he didn’t. He agreed to meet up in fifteen minutes, which was about as long as it would take Gavin to get to town.

“You okay?” Eli asked, coming up behind him at the Blue Suede Shoe.

Gavin was standing over the old-time jukebox, silently cursing the poor selection of songs. The bar featured live bands on the weekends, some of which were pretty good. Gavin had played here quite a few times. But there was no live music on Sundays. On Sundays and all the rest of the week, there was only the jukebox, with its sparse collection of country songs or Top 40 from a decade ago. He felt they should at least have more classic rock. “I’ve been better.”

“Did you get a drink?”

“Bought us both a whiskey when I came in. Bartender’s pouring them.”

“Great. So what’s going on?”

Gavin shot him a look. “What do you think’s going on?”

Clapping an arm around his shoulders, Eli guided him to a booth, where they both took a seat. They could’ve sat almost anywhere; the place was empty except for a few diehards who played billiards in one corner.

“I like Savanna,” Eli said, jumping in without preamble. “If you have to choose between them, I say you choose her.”

“Two whiskeys!” the bartender called out.

Grateful for the reprieve, even though he was the one who’d called this meeting, Gavin got up to retrieve their drinks.

Once he returned, Eli took his glass but didn’t seem overly interested in drinking what was in it. “Not only is Savanna beautiful, she seems nice,” he said, trying to open the discussion again.

Gavin wasn’t nearly as ambivalent about the alcohol as his brother. He welcomed the burn of the whiskey as it traveled down his throat.

“Are you going to talk to me?” Eli asked, finally growing impatient. “Or are we just going to drink?”

“We’re just going to drink.” Sheer escape. No more mental torment. That sounded good to Gavin. “Do you think Cora will pick us up?”

Eli shot him a look. “I didn’t drag my ass out of the house tonight to get smashed, leave my vehicle here and wake up with a hangover tomorrow. I did it for you. Tell me what’s going on.”

Gavin couldn’t decide if he was willing to go into it, after all. He was suddenly loath to even think about Heather and the baby and what he’d done at the barbecue, but he felt bad for dragging Eli out of the house, so he made himself explain what’d happened with Heather, and once he got going it wasn’t as difficult as it seemed it would be to continue talking.

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Eli said when he finished. “Ease up, okay? Wait and see what happens.”

“What if she goes back to Scott and together they try to make it difficult for me to spend time with my own child?”

“If you think she’d ever make it difficult for you to see your child—that she won’t care more about the child than getting revenge on you—she’s no one you want to marry, anyway.”