Swing (Landry Family 2)

“I broke it off.”

She gasps, her hand hitting her thigh with a slap. “You better have a damn good reason.” When I laugh, she narrows her eyes. “You broke it off with Lincoln Landry. Listen to that out loud: you broke up with Lincoln Landry. Hear that? Hear how stupid that sounds?”

I drop my hands to the table. “I never intended for it to get this serious with him. I have to get a handle on this while I can. Get what I’m saying?”

“I get you’re dumb.”

“Thanks, friend.” I shred the napkin, making a pile of equal strips in front of me. “It would be easier if he was a jerk or had a little dick or was self-centered. But he’s not.” I look at her. “He’s perfect.”

“I so don’t understand you.”

“When my parents got married, they were so in love. My dad adored her. I found this trunk in the attic when I was a teenager and it was filled with letters he wrote her while they were dating and right after they got married. He doted on her, Pepper. Whatever she wanted, he got her. Whatever he could do to make her happy, he did. He even had a plane fly over a picnic with a banner telling her he loved her. I mean, how sweet is that?”

Pepper gives me a thumbs-up. “I’m waiting on the point.”

“They had what seems like the perfect relationship. And then my dad got signed to play pro. I could hear the change in the letters, which went to post cards from different cities. Eventually, there were no more.” I grab another napkin. “I don’t remember him being home much in my early childhood and, when he was, I was a distraction. My mom was a distraction. I was a pain in her side because I took away from her energy to entertain him.”

“That was their choice, Danielle.”

“It happened to every one of their friends. Their wives sit at home, bored, while the men do what they really love. It’s like the sport replaces the love for their wives. I just . . . I promised myself I wouldn’t end up like that, Pepper. Since I was a little girl, at home with a nanny that I didn’t even know or like, I said I’d never end up like them, no matter what. I would have a huge family and hug and kiss them all the time and not make my children feel like they had to cower in the corner when I walked in the room.”

“But Lincoln has been nothing but fantastic.” She narrows her eyes. “What spooked you?”

I look away from her.

“What happened that you aren’t telling me, Dani?”

Sighing, I feel my heart tug in my chest. “My mom emailed me. I felt that loneliness and my first instinct was to go to Lincoln. I woke up in his bed and realized how bad it’s going to hurt when either a) he leaves me or b) I end up like my mom. There’s no other end to this love story. Trust me when I say I wish there was, but there’s not.”

Pepper’s shoulders fall forward. “This entire thing makes me so sad. You were so happy lately. I was hoping this was a good thing for you.”

“It was good. But I need to end it on my terms while it is good, Pepper. I needed him today. I can’t need him.”

“You’re just scared.”

“No, I’m terrified. But it’s over now, more or less.” I look up at the confection display and smile as realistically as I can and do what I do best: deflect. “Can you make me those pumpkin cupcakes for Thanksgiving? I draw the line at baking for one.”

“You can come with us.”

“Pepper,” I laugh, sitting back in my seat, “you couldn’t pay me enough money to have dinner with your mother-in-law.”

She laughs too. “I feel you there. Yes, two pumpkin cupcakes for Thanksgiving. Consider it done.”

One broken heart? That’s done too.

Lincoln

BRINGING THE BOTTLE OF BEER to my lips, I take a long, steady draw. I hold the neck between two fingers, twirling it a bit as I try to figure out my fucking life.

My shoulder throbs. I haven’t felt it hurt like this in a while. It’s a little disconcerting, but I tell myself it’s from therapy. That Houston pushed me too far. That it’ll go away in the morning. There’s relief in that. There would be more relief in knowing my fucking heart won’t feel like this when I wake up.

The cake still sits on the table. Her pink mug, the one I bought just for her, sits by the sink. Both make a small smile play on my lips, even though I feel hollow.

Flipping off the coffee maker, I grab my phone from where it sits next to the cake and hold it. Finishing the beer and tossing it towards the trash, I watch it bounce off the lip and hit the floor.

I don’t even care.

Scrolling until I find the name in my Emergency Contacts, I place the call. It rings a few times and I almost hang up when she answers.