“You don’t know that––”
“Yeah, I do. But it doesn’t matter, anyway. She deserves better than my sorry ass.” I bump his shoulder with mine, lifting my chin toward the RV. “Come on. We need to get on the road.”
He grabs the sleeve of my jacket to keep me in place. “You gotta tell her, man.”
“I can’t––”
“You have to. If Dove finds out by some other bullshit way––”
“I know,” I rasp, letting the harsh reality wash over me all over again. The idea of Dove finding out guts me. She’d never be able to understand that Em and I were purely physical. Hell, we got on each other’s nerves more often than not. If anything, I think the only reason she stuck around was because she had a thing for Milo and was too afraid to own up to her feelings.
It still doesn’t change the fact that this won’t work––Dove and me. No matter how many potential scenarios I play out, the truth is simple. I’ve slept with both Walker girls. And there’s no erasing it.
Fender lets me go, gets to his feet, and offers his hand to help me up.
When I take it, he says, “You’ll figure it out, Sonny.”
I scoff and look back at the RV where the girl of my dreams is waiting for me.
“Yeah. I’m not so sure about that one. Come on.” I take a step toward the parking lot, but he stops me.
“Hey, Sonny?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For being the big brother I’ve always needed. I know that you don’t know what it’s like to have a good one, but I think that’s why I refuse to give up hope on Marty, ya know?”
My smile is tight as I toss my arm around his neck and pull him toward the RV. “I don’t need an older brother, Fen. I have a pretty good little one.”
He rolls his eyes but lets me pull him along. “Yeah, yeah. Enough of this mushy shit. Let’s get going. We have a concert to perform.”
Shit.
He’s right.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dove
“You nervous?” Gibson asks, his concerned gaze bouncing around my face like a pinball. “You look nervous.”
I glare back at him and try to ignore the stage crew buzzing around us like busy bees. It’s opening night for Broken Vows. And absolute chaos.
“Will you stop analyzing me for two seconds?” I grit out.
“Sorry.” He shoves his hands into his front pockets, but his amused smirk taunts me. “You look hot, though. I like the dark eye makeup.”
“Thank you. Trisha may have given me a tutorial or two the last time we got together. And why do you look as cool as a cucumber?” I demand, waving my hand up and down his toned body like an orchestra conductor.
He leans closer and drops his voice low. “Because I’m on babysitting duty and won’t be on stage tonight.”
I purse my lips, unconvinced. “Don’t you crave it, though? Even a little bit?”
“Being on stage?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’ve seen you perform, Gibbs. I’ve read the comments on the video from the RV. They love you. They want you. And you light up in front of them. There’s no way that’s an act. So, why don’t you want to perform in front of them? Is it really about your dad?”
His gaze narrows, warning me to be careful.