Wild Dreams: A Friends to Lovers romance (Wilder Irish Book 12), Mari Carr [motivational books for men .TXT] 📗

a sad smile, slowly shrugging one shoulder that clearly said this was Gavin’s call, and he’d support him no matter what.

He rubbed his hands together before stuffing them in his pockets, trying to combat how cold he suddenly felt. He wasn’t sure the chill was so much because of the weather or if it was brought on by his anxiety…and a fear he hated admitting to feeling.

“Fine. One dinner. But that’s all.”

His mother smiled as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, and Gavin instantly regretted what he’d agreed to. He’d just done what her mother and sister had been smart enough to avoid.

He’d opened the door a crack.

When he should have slammed it in her face.

12

Erin was pacing in the living room, waiting for Oliver and Gavin to get home. Oliver had texted a few minutes earlier to say they were leaving the pub and that they’d be there soon. She had called Gavin this afternoon, just as she’d said she would, but she’d had to cut the call short when several ambulances arrived, carrying victims from a bad car crash.

Gavin had assured her he was fine and that they could talk about it all tonight.

Well, it was tonight. And she was holding him to that.

She glanced up when she heard the key in the door. Oliver crossed the threshold first, followed by Gavin.

He gave her a weak smile when he spotted her. No doubt her anxiety was flashing brighter than a damn strobe light.

“I’m okay, Erin,” he said, striving but failing to convince her.

She could understand that. “I think I would have freaked out if I’d thought the mother I hadn’t seen in nine years and who was in a psych hospital just showed up, all of a sudden, on my doorstep…” Her words faded away when Gavin and Oliver exchanged a glance, and she realized something she hadn’t before. “Wait. You knew she was out. Didn’t you? That’s why you were so calm.” She’d chalked up his quiet, almost nonexistent reaction to his gentle, typically unshakable nature.

Gavin nodded. “Aaron told me a few days before the fire. I was going to tell you both, I swear.”

Erin wasn’t sure if she felt better or worse knowing that Gavin had kept the secret from Oliver as well. She wondered if Gavin would ever be able to fully open himself up to them. Not that she blamed him for playing his cards close to his chest. She’d seen the scars, and while she hadn’t heard the stories, every single one of those puckered or slashed places on his skin told her more than she needed to know. More than she wanted to know.

Like Oliver, she’d grown up in a huge family, loved by her parents and sisters, adored and doted on by her aunts and uncles and grandparents, and never lonely, thanks to countless cousins to play with.

For the majority of Gavin’s childhood, it had just been him and…that woman. Even now, Erin was kicking her own ass for walking away this afternoon. It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell Cecilia Hawke off. Countless horrible words had fought their way to the surface, but one look at Gavin’s face had kept her silent.

Those words weren’t hers to say.

They were his.

Oliver placed a comforting hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “It’s fine, man. I told you. It’s okay.”

Gavin and Oliver had spent the entire afternoon together and it was obvious they’d done a lot of talking. She was glad they’d managed to come to some sort of understanding, even though she was sorry she hadn’t been there.

Gavin looked at her and she could tell he was worried she would hold a grudge.

“I’m not mad, Gavin. Jesus. On top of the news your mom was out, you lost everything you owned to a fire and had sex with a girl for the first time. I think I can cut you some slack.” And then, because she desperately wanted to see him smile, she added, “This time,” with a raised eyebrow that told him he wouldn’t always get an easy bye.

He gave her something better than a genuine smile. He actually laughed, and the tightness in her chest loosened for the first time since meeting Cecilia.

“I’ve never told you anything good about her,” Gavin said quietly.

Erin wanted to say there wasn’t enough good the woman could do to make up for the scars, but she bit her tongue, aware that her anger wouldn’t help Gavin. “So tell us something good,” she said instead.

Gavin thought for a moment, then said, “We didn’t have a lot of money. When she was working, it was usually as a waitress, and she put in long hours, trying to make ends meet with her tip money. She was rarely home when I got out of school, so I spent a lot of time at the park playing basketball, until it was time to go home and make dinner for us. I didn’t have my own ball, so I always had to wait for someone to invite me to play with them. On my eleventh birthday, she surprised me with a basketball, even though I knew we couldn’t afford it.” Gavin smiled. “I loved that ball. Even slept with it.”

Oliver grinned. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah.” Gavin’s face sobered, and it was clear to Erin they were missing part of the story.

She tilted her head, studying his face.

Gavin ran his hand over his jaw and grimaced. “Probably should have come up with another example.”

Oliver’s expression darkened. “What did she do to the ball?”

“Woke up one night to her…” Gavin swallowed heavily. “Putting a cigarette out on my back. I jumped out of bed and crossed the room to get away from her. I was getting bigger and faster, so she couldn’t hold me down like she had when I was little. My ball was…” He fell silent.

“She popped the ball,” Erin said, shaking her head.

Gavin nodded. “Fuck. What I was trying to explain—even though I did a shit job—was