Almost Just Friends Page 6

  Not all that unlike the one in the house behind him.

  He’d watched the reunion between siblings with great curiosity. He’d been surprised at the dynamic between Piper and Winnie. They hadn’t greeted each other like siblings. More like irritated parent and wayward child. There was clearly a lot of resentment built up there, both in the way they spoke to each other and in body language.

  Same with Piper and Gavin.

  Having not grown up in the same house as his brother, it felt oddly familiar. Cam was thirty-two now, and Rowan had been twenty when he died. That twelve-year age gap had seemed huge for most of their lives, putting an almost-parental spin on their relationship.

  So, though Piper didn’t know it, he felt connected to her on a core level.

  In between the two houses, the so-called creek was still flowing like a wild river. He turned to head up to the street, taking his chances by going around to the back of the houses—and came face-to-face with Winnie.

  “Hey,” she said, looking over her shoulder as if to make sure no one was watching.

  “Hey,” he said back. “Want to tell me why no one seems to know you’re pregnant with my brother’s baby?”

  “Oh my God, shhh!” She looked over her shoulder again, then grabbed his hand and yanked him down the steps and into the light drizzle. She pulled him around the corner to the side yard, where they stood beneath the overhang protecting the air-conditioning unit.

  She wasn’t showing at all, which made sense. She’d gotten pregnant three months ago, just before Rowan’s death. “You left the funeral without saying good-bye. I’m taking it that was on purpose,” Cam said.

  Winnie closed her eyes and then opened them again, revealing a grief that Cam understood all too well. “I appreciate you telling your dad to let me know about the funeral. I also appreciate you sending me the money for the flight and hotel costs to get there.”

  “What money?”

  She gave him a get real look, gentled by a small smile. “I know it was you, Cam.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Rowan would’ve wanted you there.”

  Her eyes went a little shiny as she nodded and looked away.

  He gave her a moment, mostly because seeing her grief triggered his ever-present pain as well. “He wanted me to take care of you,” he finally said, putting his mission out in the open. He’d promised Rowan, and Cam never broke a promise. At least not anymore. In the past, he’d let down his mom. He’d let down his brother. And now they were both gone, and he could never make it up to them.

  And hell, he’d also let his dad down, by not even knowing the guy was sick. That was especially hard to take, because he didn’t think he’d survive failing someone else he cared about.

  But Winnie was shaking her head. “Thank you, but I don’t want to be anyone’s burden. This”—she pressed her hands to her still-flat belly—“the Bean . . . it’s on me.”

  “You’re not a burden.” He waited until she looked at him, this woman who was still mostly a girl, but had been encumbered with a responsibility that he was pretty sure she didn’t yet fully understand. “And I want to do this. You’re carrying my future niece or nephew.”

  She stared up at him. “So . . . you don’t think I’m a screw-up? Just a girl who was stupid enough to get herself pregnant?”

  “Is that why you’re not telling Piper? You think she’ll call you a screw-up?”

  “Yes, because I am.”

  “Winnie . . .” He searched for words to put meaning behind the emotion clogging his throat. “I lost time with my brother,” he finally said. “I don’t want to make the same mistake here. As far as I’m concerned, you and your baby are family.”

  She seemed surprised but also relieved. “What will happen when you go back to work?”

  “We’ll stay in contact,” he said. “I’ll still be there for you and the baby, however I’m needed.”

  She looked torn between wanting to believe him and being utterly unable to do so. That was okay; Cam was used to proving himself.

  Finally, Winnie sighed and squeezed his hand. “What you did for me, helping me get to the funeral, means more than you’ll ever know. Thanks for letting me say good-bye to him with you. But I absolve you of any further obligation. Really. It’s not your fault Rowan’s gone.”

  Her honest grief hurt. Not that his grief wasn’t honest. It was, and that shit went soul deep, so much so that he wasn’t sure he could ever climb out. But his grief was tainted by guilt. So much fucking guilt. Because it was his fault Rowan was gone, and his alone. He hadn’t realized how much that would hurt, or how it would twist everything inside him, leaving him feeling lost and alone. He’d gladly give up everything to see Rowan again, to tell him how fucking proud of him he was for following his heart, for not letting circumstances dictate his direction in life. But he couldn’t. So he’d do this, watch over what Rowan couldn’t. “You shouldn’t keep this a secret from your siblings.”

  “Gavin knows,” Winnie said.

  “But not Piper.”

  “Not yet, no.”

  “Listen,” he said. “Take it from me, secrets like this tear families apart.”

  “It’s . . . complicated.”

  “Secrets always are.”

  Winnie sighed. “She also doesn’t know I dropped out of college.”

  “Why did you drop out?”

  She shrugged. “I was never into it.”

  He absorbed this for a beat, worried that the real reason was money. Rowan wouldn’t have wanted her to quit because of that. “Is it too late?” he asked. “Because I can help you with the costs.”

  “It’s not about the money. I only went in the first place to make Piper happy. I hated it. I wanted to be back here. Having morning sickness meant a lot of lying on the bathroom floor thinking too much, but the truth is that staying in college isn’t practical. I couldn’t graduate before the baby came, so what’s the point? Plus, I really want do something with my hands. I want to be useful. And I’m going to do that from here. Somehow.”

  “Are you sure? Because seriously, whatever you need—”

  “All I need,” she said very gently, “is for you to promise not to tell my sister any of this. Not until I’m ready.”

  Fuck. “Don’t ask that of me, Winnie.”

  “Please,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “It’s just all too much right now, okay? First, losing my best friend—”

  “Seems like Rowan was a little more than that.”

  Winnie swallowed hard and looked down. “Maybe. We didn’t know, we didn’t realize until after we sort of accidentally slept together one night. Things might’ve changed then, but right after, he went back East to visit with you for a few weeks, and he . . .”

  “Never came home,” he finished quietly.

  She nodded and bit her lower lip. “And then I was in school, realizing that nothing felt right anymore, not class, not being out on my own, nothing . . .”

  “So you came home.”

  She nodded again, looking very young and very unsure.

  “Have you been continuing to see your doctor, the one you mentioned at the funeral?”

  “Yes. I had my patience tested. I’m negative.”

  He snorted. “Copy that.”

  “Doc said mama and baby are fine.”

  “Good. And I mean it, Winnie, when you need anything, just let me know. We can work out a way for me to cover your bills without any invasion of privacy. But . . .”

  She looked into his eyes, her own incredibly vulnerable and young. “But . . . ?”

  “You need to tell Piper.”

  “I know. I will,” she promised. “When I’m ready.”

  He drew in a long breath. “I’d do a lot for you, Winnie, but I’m not comfortable with lying to her.”

  “Well, I don’t feel comfortable throwing up every morning, but sometimes we have to deal with our lot in life. Promise me, Cam. Or I’ll leave, no forwarding address.”

  Shit.
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  “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding like she meant it. “But I can’t be pushed around on this. I’ll do it—when it’s right. Okay?”

  What choice did he have? He gave a reluctant nod.

  Winnie let out a shaky exhale. “Thank you. Now I’d better get back inside. I’m sure Piper has more she needs to gripe at me about.”

  “She cares about you.”

  Winnie cocked her head and studied him. “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “You like her.”

  “I’ve known her for all of twelve hours.” They both knew that was a non-answer, but the truth was, it didn’t matter if he liked her or not. He was here to help his family. Other than Winnie and his dad, “the Bean,” as she’d called it, was all the family he had left.

  Chapter 6

  “My alone time is for your safety.”

  Gavin walked through the big, old house. It was midnight, and very dark and quiet. Too dark and quiet for him, but he had nowhere else to be. The roads were somewhat cleared, but he didn’t want to go out looking for trouble. Hell, half the time he never even had to look—trouble always just found him.

  Piper and Winnie were sleeping, and he’d planned to do the same. But he’d long ago learned that he had to be exhausted first, or the dreams hit. There’d been far too many nights he’d bolted awake after an ugly nightmare to find himself curled up on the floor in the fetal position, rocking himself.

  It was his second night home, and he’d slept like the dead last night, which had been a miracle. And yet he was afraid to hope that would be the norm here. Mostly, he was afraid to hope for anything at all.

  He’d spent the past two days moving mud away from the foundation of the house and the cottages with Piper and Winnie. Both he and Piper had been stunned when Winnie had put in time, actually getting her hands dirty.

  Winnie was a lot of things, most of them pretty great, like crazy fun, crazy wild, and . . . well, just plain crazy. But she’d never been big on putting forth a lot of effort. Into anything.

  So when Piper and Gavin had stared in shock at Winnie showing up to help, it’d of course started a fight. Winnie had been insulted, reminding them both that she’d always preferred dirt and bugs to dolls and playing dress-up.

  In turn, Gavin had reminded her that she’d spent the years between age three and eighteen both causing and raising holy hell on the world.

  That was when she had “accidentally” thrown mud at him.

  Naturally, a mud fight had ensued, and Piper, covered in mud and with steam coming out of her ears, had yelled at them to help or, better yet, get the hell out.

  That was when Gavin had first realized that he wasn’t the only one standing on the very edge of a cliff looking down . . .

  Restless now, he moved around the house. He didn’t need lights to make his way through the only home he remembered.

  Except that wasn’t quite true.

  He’d been ten when he, Piper, and Winnie had been sent home from the Democratic Republic of the Congo in the middle of that storm from hell, back to Wildstone to live with their grandparents. Whenever he’d been asked, he’d told people he couldn’t remember much before that.

  But he could. He could, and did, and even now, alone in the dark with the nightmare of that time ringing in his head, playing like a movie he couldn’t pause, he could feel the shudder of horror and grief go through him.

  “Survivor’s guilt,” a therapist had told him and Piper a long time ago.

  No shit . . .

  Hearing a sound in the den, he headed that way, not all that surprised to find Winnie curled up in the window seat in the living room, head bent, reading something on her phone.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Winnie jerked and her phone went flying. “Hey yourself, creeper. You nearly scared the Bean right out of me.”

  He moved close and sat with her, looking out into the night and seeing nothing, because there were no city lights out here, no billboards or traffic. Nothing. “The Bean’s okay.” He slid her a crooked grin. “Its mama, though . . .”

  Winnie rolled her eyes.

  Gavin bent and scooped up her phone for her, which had a YouTube video playing on how to become a handyman. He glanced at her in surprise. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like?” She snatched the phone from his fingers.

  “It looks like you’re trying to learn how to be useful.”

  “And?”

  “And . . . that seems unlike you.”

  “Shows how much you know. I want to help. Piper’s working so hard, and she’s trying to fix this place up all on her own. That’s not fair.”

  “Never bothered you before.”

  “Yeah, well, I was a child.” She sighed. “And now I’m having a child. Need to get my shit together. I’m glad you decided to come home to do the same, but you were late. You were supposed to beat me here and soften her up for me.”

  He shrugged. “I nearly decided against coming home at all.”

  “Glad you didn’t.” She paused. “And just out of curiosity, what does seem like me?”

  Even he recognized a trick question, but this was Winnie. They didn’t pull their punches with each other. “You’re covert. Sneaky. Like”—he raised a brow—“pretending to be in college this whole past semester when you’re really hostessing at Chili’s.”

  She grimaced.

  “Or getting pregnant and then hiding it.”

  “I never should have told you. It was a weak moment, I’d just peed on a stick and freaked.”

  “Understandable. But it’s a long time to be keeping these secrets from Piper. It’s your superpower.”

  She flipped him off.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got the same superpower.”

  “Yeah, you do.” Winnie lost her animosity and reached for his hand. “Only your secret shouldn’t be a secret, Gav. It’s not good for your recovery.”

  “Yeah.” Feeling claustrophobic, he rose, hating the feeling that he was trying to climb out of his own skin. “But I’m not who you should be worried about.”

  “Then who?”

  “Your sister, when she finds out how little you trust her not to freak out.”

  “You mean we,” Winnie said. “How little we trust her not to freak out.”

  But it wasn’t about trust for Gavin. Not with Piper. It was about how much of her life she’d already given up for him and Winnie. All she’d ever wanted was for them to turn out okay. Instead, she had a baby sister having a baby and a brother with an addiction problem.

  And she didn’t know about either.

  “So you’re going to tell her?” he asked. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Anytime soon? Cuz he’s been gone a little over three months now.”

  Winnie didn’t respond to this.

  On the one hand, he got why she wouldn’t readily open up to their older sister. Piper had liked Rowan okay. She’d thought him sweet and affable, and good for his dad. But she’d also thought he’d been lazy and trouble, and not a great influence on Winnie, and as usual, she was right on the money there. Rowan had been all those things as well. But Gavin liked to think that in the end, he’d have changed for Winnie.

  But now they’d never know.

  He ended up in the middle of the kitchen, hands fisted at his sides, eyes tightly closed as he breathed through a desperate need.

  For a pill.

  Six months. He’d been out of rehab for six months, and after being secretly hooked on pills for three years, he’d told himself he was doing great. But it turned out great was relative. Yes, compared to the Category 5 hurricane he’d turned his life into last year, he was great. But compared to where he wanted to be—a whole person, which he had no idea how to make happen—he suspected he had a long way to go to get to great.

  For shits and giggles, and to torture himself, he went through the cabinets. The place was a disorganized mess as always. Piper could fi
nd anything she wanted in here, but he had absolutely no idea how. She was a great sister, but a complete slob.

  He looked around, shook his head, and began to clean up. He couldn’t help himself. He apparently had been the only Manning born with the neat gene. Above the toaster that wasn’t working, the one he’d promised to fix but hadn’t, nestled between the sugar and the flour, sat aspirin, Tums, and . . . bingo, an old prescription of OxyContin from when Piper had sprained her ankle on the job a few years back. Because his sister was anal and a control freak, it appeared not a single pill had been taken.

  He ran a finger over the bottle with a shocking, bone-deep yearning. It’d be so easy. So damn easy. For a painfully long moment, he stood there, during which time he’d have paid any amount of money to have his mom or dad appear to tell him that he had this. To tell him they believed in him. To hug him, just one more time.

  But because wishes, like lightsabers, butter beer, and Prince Charming, weren’t real, he remained alone. Swallowing hard, he shut the cabinet. But he was shaking when he took out his phone and sent a text to his sponsor.

  He got an immediate response: You need me?

  Did he? All he wanted was to be of value, but everything he touched turned to shit. And God, he hated a self-pity party. So he forced in a deep breath and shook his head. He was stronger than this. He was. So he texted back: No, I’m okay now, thanks.

  He received another text that read: Anytime, you know that . . .

  And he did. He was shoving his phone into a pocket when he heard something, a crinkling sound, like maybe there was a rodent riffling around in the pantry. After that last storm, he wouldn’t be surprised if an entire colony had moved in. Moving silently to the pantry door, he accessed the flashlight on his phone and . . . yanked it open.

  Not a rodent.

  Piper. She was sitting on a five-gallon container of cat food, inhaling a family-sized bag of cheese puffs and—shock—writing in her journal. Not as jumpy as Winnie, not even close, his badass sister merely lifted her gaze, casual as you please, and her brows went up.

  “My alone time is for your safety,” she said around a mouthful of cheese puffs.