Page 7 of Everything I Crave

“-just need you to,” she pleads.

“No way. I’m not burning Jake, girl. He might be a sleaze but he just signed me on to tour with Calvin. Sorry,” the woman on the other end of the phone says.

Willow slams her phone to end the call without saying goodbye to the woman on the other line.

“Fuck her. Fuck Jake, and fuck Calvin Taylor.” She stares at her phone like it might hold all the answers to her problems.

“Calvin Taylor, the major country singer right now?” I ask.

She whirls her head around, the copper locks falling in front of her face. “What are you doing here?”

“Last I checked, I own this place and I sent you home two hours ago. So one would bargain, you’re the one out of place, what areyoudoing here?” I counter.

“I don’t know. I never should have left Nashville. I can’t go home to Mom’s, and it’s too late to call my sisters.” She starts crying.

If there is anything I hate more than clingy drunk girls hoping for a shot at the end of the night, it’s a crying drunk girl. Usually it’s over a broken heart, but I can’t quite figure out who broke this heart.

“Fuck. We’re really doing this again?” I murmur to myself.

I turn to face her after grabbing the trash bag out of the barrel.

“Come on, darling.”

She looks at me with hope in those emerald eyes.

“What?” She’s clearly confused since before I told her to call someone and that she wasn’t staying here.

“You can stay here again.” I open the door and hold it open for her. “But no more booze.”

She smiles wide, hopping off the bench and running to the door. At least the couple of hours she sat out here sobered her up a bit.

“Go on upstairs, I just have to shut all the lights off and lock up.” I motion to a door through the back of my office in the kitchen.

She takes off up the stairs as I stand there watching her go, running my hands over my face.

What the fuck are you doing, Gunnar?

I shut off all the lights and grab the pizza I made myself before heading upstairs.

When I open the door, Willow is roaming around my living room looking at all my photos that Mom and my sister Emma put up last time they visited. Thank God they also forced me to buy a bed when they said they were spending the weekend. At least I don’t have to cram my body on the couch again.

“You were in the military?” she asks, holding a photo of my family in her hands from my graduation. “And a twin?”

“The better looking one.” I laugh to myself at the running joke between Hunter and I.

“You’re identical.” She narrows her eyes at me.

I walk into the kitchen and place the pizza on the island, pulling plates from the cabinets.

“Who are the others?” She follows me with the photo.

“My twin, Hunter, Mom and Dad, Brothers Liam, Wyatt, and Cooper. Sister, Emma.” I point to everyone.

“Shit. You have five siblings? I thought three was bad.” She chuckles, walking the photo back to its place. “So how’d you end up owning a bar in Lupine Valley from the military?”

“Drinking away the pain of deployments and lost friends,” I answer candidly.

“What?” She turns to face me, not realizing how close I’ve walked to her.

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