Sway (Landry Family 1)

“So . . .” I heave a breath, not sure how to bring it up or what part to bring up or if I even want to bring it up to start with. What I wanted was to not be alone with my thoughts.

“What happened after I left?” she asks carefully. “Did things go okay?”

I nod and down the rest of the wine in my glass.

“Why do I think you’re lying? No, strike that—why do I know you’re lying?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m drinking wine like a fish?”

“Good point.”

I sigh and rest my head on her shoulder, the low alcohol content in the inexpensive wine finally adding up to enough percentage to dull my senses. My thoughts aren’t so jammed. They’re clearer if not a little muddled, which makes no sense and all the sense in the world.

“He said he was sorry. He swore to me he didn’t know the statement was going to say that, and the other article about the baby was a shocker.” I shake my head. “No, not a shocker. He knew it was happening, just not today.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Mhmm,” I mumble, letting my eyelids drift closed. It’s a delightful feeling to trust the peace of the dark.

“You do?”

“Yup,” I say, fluttering open my lids. “I do. I don’t think he knew it was going to be so unflattering to me and there’s no part of me that really, truly believes he staged this to happen at the same time.”

“So you don’t think the timing was suspicious?”

I shrug. “Maybe it was a coincidence or maybe his people knew exactly what was happening with the ex-girlfriend or whoever in the hell she is or was. But did Barrett? I don’t think so.”

Her face scrunches in thought as we gaze across the yard. We sit like that a long time, both of us lost in thought, trying to make sense of this ridiculous situation with a man neither of us imagined we’d ever be discussing like this. Maybe it would be easier if we weren’t.

“So boil it down for me,” she requests. “If you believe him, what’s the problem?”

I take a deep breath and look at Lo. She gives me a small smile, encouraging the words out of my mouth. They’re on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitate. She’s going to just tell me I’m stupid and, truthfully, maybe I am. Maybe it’s ridiculous to feel the way I do, but I can’t help it.

Once you’ve been burned by someone, the scars never leave. They become more sensitive to the same type of fire that got you once, tingling when you get too close to the heat. And as much as I’m starting to really, really adore Barrett Landry, the sensation is still there that maybe this is another fire.

It’s possible I’m being overprotective of myself. There’s a chance I’m overthinking things. But if I had overthought them a little more with Hayden, maybe my scars wouldn’t run so deep.

My lips twist together, feeling swollen from the wine. My eyes wet, glaze over, and I fight hard not to cry.

“Ali?”

“Tell me I’m being stupid. Tell me I’m being completely idiotic for being scared.”

“Oh, my friend,” she says, amusement thick in her voice, “I’ll never tell you that being scared is wrong. Being scared saves lives. Hell, it saves venereal diseases and unplanned pregnancies,” she laughs. “But that doesn’t mean it’s always warranted either.”

Looking up at the night sky, I try to find the stars that look like a baseball. I don’t find it—the sky still looks like an erratic mess of twinkling lights. But it also causes my heart to beat wildly as I remember my first walk with Barrett.

“He m

akes me feel like I’m important to him. Barrett looks at me and sees me, Lo. He sees my heart. And he’s so great with Hux. He makes me feel like I matter to him, he asks my opinions. He . . .”

“Sucks grapes out of your hoohah?”

I burst into a fit of laughter. “That too.”