Sweet (Landry Family 6)

But I am sure. I want to be with him. I just … can’t.

“I just want to cause them the least pain, you know? Because if I’m being honest, I was going to walk out eventually. I do this self-sabotage thing where I … implode my life? Keep me from having nice things?”

“Thinking you don’t deserve them?”

Oof.

She hands me the coffee, her bracelet with a little succulent catching the light. “Hollis does this thing—he used to do it terribly, where he wouldn’t buy himself anything. Like, nothing. The boy had a hole in his shoe and refused to get a new pair.” She laughs. “He felt like he had to trade something to get the shoes or whatever it was. He had to write a song or finish a paper or do whatever it was to deserve the thing he needed or wanted.”

I hold the banana and suddenly don’t feel like eating it anymore.

“It’s taken a lot of deprogramming to get him out of that headspace,” she says. “Don’t get me wrong—he still doesn’t spend money. But he’ll get what he needs, and he’ll treat himself sometimes. And, of course, I spoil him.”

I smile at her. “I’m glad he has you, Riss.”

“I’m glad I have him.”

“Even with his need for deprogramming?” I ask.

She leans against the counter and looks at me. “See? You see it as a negative. I see it as a positive.”

“How?”

“All of that stuff in his head that makes him feel … certain ways, whatever they are, from time to time? It’s because of some really shitty people doing some really shitty things to him. Yet he made it.” She smiles brightly. “He made his way to me. He’s the strongest person I know. And every day when I wake up, and I look over, and he’s lying there snoring—because that man snores, let me tell you—I feel like the happiest person in the world.”

That’s because she has one of the very best men I know as her person. And Hollis is also one lucky man to have Riss and her family as his.

I think about what she said. It makes sense. And I’m happy for Hollis.

But Hollis isn’t me.

“Thanks for the coffee. I’m going to grab a shower. Do you care if I take it to my room?” I ask.

“No. Heavens, no. Your brother eats and drinks as he walks around the house. He’s a heathen sometimes.”

I try to smile. I mean to. It’s just hard to cut through my sadness.

I take my coffee and head upstairs. Once I get there, I check my phone.

Nate: I love you.

I love you too.

Me: Distract me.

Banks: Needy much?

Me: Banks. Please.

Banks: So there was this cat last night in the alley behind the house.

I lie on the bed and let Banks take my mind off the mess in my head.

THIRTY-TWO

NATE

“I’m not in the mood, Dom. Don’t start.”

My brother closes his mouth. The amusement written on his face when I walked in is replaced with confusion.

“Good morning to you, too,” he says.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Troy asks.

I sit a few chairs away from Dominic instead of beside him like usual. I don’t trust myself not to start swinging today.

I woke up—which is a joke because I didn’t sleep—pissed. And sad. And lonely.

The same thought came rolling through my mind. When was it over for her?

Did she know this was coming? Did something happen yesterday? Was this always the plan?

Because it’s not over for me.

She asked for space, and I’ll give her that. She wanted time, and that’s fine. As long as she comes back.

And I made no promises not to try to get ahold of her in the meantime.

Me: I had to make Ryder’s pancakes this morning. Apparently, we do syrup shapes now. I had no idea. It resulted in a meltdown for Paige Stage. You are missed.

“Nate?” Troy says.

“Huh?” I look up to see Dominic and Troy staring at me. “What?”

Troy shrugs. “Are we gonna fight today? Talk? Not talk? What are we doing here?”

I don’t know.

I could tell them Paige left me, but it feels so soul-crushingly wrong. It’s like admitting she’s gone. That we aren’t together. That she’s not coming back.

Fuck that. Fuck all of that.

“Let’s fight,” Dominic says. “I haven’t kicked either of your asses in a while.”

Me: I don’t know how you have five brothers and don’t kill them. I have one, and he might not make it to the end of the day.

Paige: Six.

My face lights up. A warmth floods my body, and I sink back into the chair. She’s reading my texts.

Me: I’m making spaghetti tonight. Hope you are there.

Nothing.

Dominic sits up and slides a pen down the table. It hits me in the forearm.

“Hey,” he says. “Talk to us.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m in a bad mood.”

“No kidding.”