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“And the rest?”

“Determination, dedication, and consistency,” I replied. “The 30/30/30 effect.”

“I might need a hand with that,” he muttered.

“What do you need from me?”

“To pull me into line,” he admitted. “I think I can do it, Johnny.”

“I know you can,” I replied. “I’ve always said that.”

“I know, but I didn’t want it before.”

“And you do now?”

“I’m wasting my life,” he said. “I’m letting all the opportunities slip through my fingers.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been saying that for years, too.”

“So, what do I need to do?”

“Quit smoking, cut back on the drink, and meet me at my house at half five tomorrow.”

“That’s a bit late in the evening to start—”

“Who said anything about evening?” I arched a brow. “5:30 a.m., Gibs. The early bird catches the worm.”

“Oh shit,” he groaned. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t ya?”

I shrugged. “If you’re serious and you want it, then you’ll get your ass out of that bed.”

“Lock your legs,” Gibsie said then, turning his attention back to his book.

“I can’t,” I bit out, breathing hard. “It’s too sore.”

“Well, if you went home and rubbed one out, you’d feel better,” he shot back, not missing a beat. “And you’d be able to close your legs.”

“What would you have done, Gibs?” I asked, ignoring his dig. “If you were me back there?”

“Given what you know about her family?”

“Yeah,” I grunted, breathless.

“Exactly the same thing,” he replied, confirming that I wasn’t alone in my madness. “But I would have stemmed the threats of violence.” He tossed his pen down and sat up. “That’s her brother, lad.”

I arched a brow and gave him a don’t-bullshit-me look.

“Fair enough,” he chuckled before admitting, “I would have killed him.”

I nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”

“But I’m not saying that’s the right thing,” he added, climbing to his feet.

“Do you think she’s still pissed?” I asked, gaze flickering to his bedroom window. “Am I in trouble?”

“You’re always in trouble,” he mused. “It’s like your thing.”

“You know what I mean,” I grumbled.

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