Swing (Landry Family 2)

“She’s not a whore. She’s beautiful and smart and funny as hell. She reminds me of you, Ali.”

“And she’s also impervious to your abs, I recall Graham saying,” Barret adds.

Alison laughs, wrapping her hand around Barrett’s arm as I wince.

“Fuck Graham.”

“Hey,” Barrett shrugs, amused. “That’s the word on the street.”

“I think that’s a very good thing,” Alison whispers, swatting my brother. “Never take a girl seriously that just wants your abs, Linc.”

“But they’re great. Wanna see?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Barrett glares.

It’s my turn to shrug. “Just being nice and offering. She’s been with you a while. She’s not seen something like this in a long time.”

Barrett begins to fire back, a grin on his face, when Huxley ambles in the room. “This place is nice. I put my backpack on the bed with the boxes on it. We can move them right?”

Furrowing my brow, I make a face. “Yeah. I wonder what’s in the boxes?”

“How do you not know?” Alison asks.

“Rita kind of does her thing and I sort of live around it. Stay out of the way.”

“But it’s your house,” Hux points out.

“Weird, right?” I shrug.

Barrett taps at his watch. “We need to get going. Troy is waiting in the car. We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon sometime.”

“Sounds good,” I say, following them to the door. They say their goodbyes to Huxley and then turn to me.

“Please don’t warp him,” Barrett mutters before looking at Alison. “Are you one hundred percent sure this is a good idea?”

Alison kisses me on the cheek again. Looking into my eyes, she says, “I am. I trust him.”

“See? She trusts me.”

“She’s gorgeous but clearly not very smart,” Barrett sighs.

“Will you please go?” Huxley butts in, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Alison and Barrett laugh. They open the door and Alison blows her son a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care of him, Linc.”

“Let’s be real—take care of him, Hux,” Barrett calls over his shoulder.

“I got this. Just enjoy yourself,” I sigh.

They leave and Huxley turns to me. “Now what?”

Why I feel put on the spot by a kid is beyond me. But I do. The little shit starts a smirk that seems to flip our roles.

“What are you laughing at?” I say, heading into the living room and flopping down on the sofa.

Huxley climbs onto the cushion beside me. “I’m not laughing at anything. I’m just wondering what we are going to do. That’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?”