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“You know, all you have to do is ask the girl out,” I said as I hobble-jogged after him. “She’ll say yes.”

“I know,” he snarled, sounding even more furious.

“Well, if you know, then why haven’t you done it already?” I asked, frustrated.

“Because!”

“Because?” I pushed, resisting the urge to jump on his back and wrestle him to the ground. “You like her, she likes you.” I threw my hands up. “What’s the problem?”

When we reached his car, Gibsie spun around to face me, chest rising and falling quickly, car keys clenched in his white-knuckled fist. “Do you know what the statistics for relationships formed during childhood lasting are?”

Exhaling, I shook my head. “What?”

“They’re low, Johnny,” he hissed. “Very fucking low. The odds of being with your childhood sweetheart twenty years from now are less than fifteen percent.”

I gaped at him. “Again,what?”

“I’m not prepared to be another statistic,” he choked out, sounding deadly serious. “Not with her. So I’ll do what I have to do, I’ll bide my time, but I won’t tie her down. Not until she’s ready. Not until we’ve both lived a bit of life first.” He dropped his head and released a pained groan. “But I won’t watchthat.” He growled again. “Never a-fucking-gain.”

“Well, shit.” I frowned. “I don’t know whether that sounds sensible or insane.”

“It’s probably both,” he confirmed grimly.

Probably…

Eyeing him curiously, I said, “You actually believe that?” When he didn’t respond, I continued, “That’s what’s wrong with you? Why you’ve been driving yourself crazy over that girl for as long as I’ve known you? You’re afraid it won’t last?” I tilted my head to one side. “You’re scared?”

“I’m not scared,” he bit out. “I just know better.”

“Because of your parents?” I asked warily, half expecting a slap in the jaw for the question. From what I gathered, his parents’ divorce was a shitstorm of epic proportions that erupted right around the time of his first Holy Communion. Gibs had spoken about it to me a grand total of one time in almost seven years of friendship. It was the unspoken law of the land in our circle to never talk about his parents’ divorce—and nevereverbring up his father and Bethany—but I was going there again today because he was clearly messed in the head over it. “Because that’s what happened to them? You think that’ll happen to you and Claire?”

“Fuck you,” Gibsie huffed. “I’m not projecting. I’m protecting.”

Oh, he was definitely doing both.

“Hey, I’m not judging you, lad,” I replied, holding my hands up. “But I am going to tell you that I think your thought process is all kinds of messed up.”

His jaw twitched, but he didn’t respond.

“Fuck statistics,” I urged. “If you want to be with her, then justbewith her.”

“Says the fella who ran away from a tiny little girl for months,” he shot back tersely. “And you have the gall to call me scared—pussy.”

I let his comment fly over my head, concentrating on the issue at hand, because I had no defense. Ididrun away from a tiny little girl for months—I ran like I was fearing for my bleeding life—but I wasn’t running anymore. “So you’re telling me that you’ll be fine with her going out with some gobshite like Jamie again?” I pushed him by asking. “You’ll be perfectly okay with that?” I shrugged. “Because that’s what it sounds like.”

“You know I won’t,” he choked out. “It nearly killed me last time.”

I cringed in sympathy. “At least you got to box the head off him when it all went to shite.”

“Yeah.” A small smile tipped at his lips. “That was satisfying.”

“I bet,” I agreed, taking the opportunity to snatch his keys out of his hand so he couldn’t bolt, and then shoving them into my pocket. “Now, are you going to let that little skinny fucker get the better of you?”

“Fuck no,” he growled, running a hand through his blond hair.

“Damn straight you’re not,” I replied enthusiastically. “So pull your finger out of your hole and go over there.”

“You know what, Kav?” Needing no other encouragement, Gibs rolled up his sleeves. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

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