Switch (Landry Family 3)

“So what? We will pay a little more for insurance and we’ll start awhile later. That’s all fixable,” he says. “As long as our family is happy and healthy, everything is fixable.”

I raise my eyes to meet his and regret it as soon as I do. For maybe the first time ever, one of my brothers is putting me in my place. He could forego all the words and just look at me like that and his point would be well made.

“What you just did,” he says, “may be a whole lot harder to fix.”

As the smoke begins to clear, I see the situation with a clarity that makes me sick. “I . . . I don’t know what to do.”

“You better fucking get a plan together, G.”

“If I were her, I wouldn’t talk to me.”

“If I were her, I’d tell you to go straight to hell,” he points out. “But I have a feeling she may be more forgiving than me.”

When I don’t move, he steps closer. “Graham, if you don’t reach out to her now—not tonight, not tomorrow, now—you just might end up in the same boat as me.”

“What boat is that?”

“A boat with more pride than sense. It’s a lonely fucking place, brother.”

I whip out my phone and press her name. It rings three times before I’m sure I was put to voicemail. Glancing at Ford, he winces.

I call her again and am sent to voicemail on ring number two.

“I’m out of my element here,” I say out loud on the verge of panic. “What do I do?”

He stands stoically in front of me. “You have to talk to her.”

“But she won’t talk to me.”

“So, go to her.”

It sounds like simple logic, an answer that should’ve been obvious. “I don’t know where she went.”

Scurrying by my brother, I sit at her desk. Pulling open her drawer, I rifle through her things until I find her calendar. “She doesn’t have yoga tonight.”

“She’s probably at home,” Ford offers. “Did you think of that?”

“I . . .” I fight the calamity in my brain. “I don’t know where she lives.” His jaw drops and I groan. “We just started doing this thing. I’ve never been there.”

“That’s an issue for another day.”

My body tenses as the door opens and Raza walks in. She’s all smiles, hips swinging, until she sees the look on

our faces. “I’m sorry. I thought this would be a better time.”

“Better than what?” Ford asks as I continue to rifle through Mallory’s drawer. It’s a mess, but instead of irritating me, I find it sort of comforting.

“There was a woman in here earlier. I came in to ask about a couple of things, and she and Mallory were in a heated conversation.”

Ford and I exchange a glance as I stand. “Who was she?” I ask.

Raza shrugs. “I don’t know. Mallory called security.”

My blood chills as a host of images flow through my mind at what might have happened for Mallory to call for help. “Was there a physical altercation?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. The woman was just demanding to see you and Mallory refused. She didn’t like that much.”

“Who could it have been?” Ford asks from beside me.