Sway (Landry Family 1)

“I didn’t know people still used those!” she exclaims

“No one calls mine but my mother and Nolan. I’d just get rid of it, but it’s wired somehow into the security system of the house or something.”

“Do you need to get it?”

“Nah, it’s too late to be Mom. My cell is off, so it’s probably Nolan pissed he can’t get me and wants to ride my ass about some campaign statement or interview.”

She glances at the clock over my shoulder and presses her lips, still swollen from our kisses, together. “I probably need to be going home.”

“Why?”

She swallows and I see the trepidation washing over her out of nowhere. “Because it’s getting late?”

It’s more of a question than a reason and one I won’t let go.

“We aren’t teenagers, although you could pull off the twenty-something look better than me,” I tease. “Troy can take you home whenever I ask him to. You don’t have to leave now.”

“I probably should.”

I watch her wrangle with her decision and I can tell she doesn’t really want to. She won’t look at me, won’t let me see into her eyes.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

Although the words were harmless, she flutters her eyes up to mine and there’s a spark of pain hidden inside the blue irises.

She doesn’t answer me.

“You better talk to me,” I lead, rubbing my thumb over her knuckle.

“I guess for awhile I forgot who you are.”

“What’s that mean?” I ask, looking at her like she’s crazy. “Who I am?”

She takes a deep breath and the smile on her face is almost one of resignation. “I forgot about all of that,” she says with a wave towards my phone.

“Alison, it’s a part of my job. It’s not going to go away.”

“No, I know,” she sighs. “I just got swept away and . . .” She giggles, a soft, sweet, little rasp. “I relaxed. Do you know the last time I relaxed like this?”

I kiss her again, squarely on the lips. “You can come here and relax like this any time you want.”

She takes my hand in hers and draws little designs on my palm. She’s thinking, lost in some world I’m not privy to, and I want to ask questions. My curiosity is off the charts and I want to fix whatever’s bothering her, but I don’t ask what it is because I’m afraid maybe I can’t fix it.

“What scares you, Barrett?” she asks finally, putting both of her small hands around mine. The warmth from her skin floods into me and I want to wrap myself around her in every way.

“Election day,” I half-joke.

She smiles, but I can tell that’s not what she meant. Still, this is not a topic I’d like to delve into heavily.

“The words, ‘It’s your baby.’”

“Barrett!” she laughs, throwing a grape at me. “I’m being serious.”

“Me too,” I groan, but realize she’s not going to let me dodge this question. I blow out a breath

and think. “I guess I’m scared of failure.”

The grin on her face dissolves and she leans back against the headboard. “Continue,” she prompts.