My father steps to Lincoln and they square off, their noses nearly touching. Lincoln doesn’t flinch. My father shakes harder until my mother wraps her hands around his bicep and guides him out the door, but not before giving me one final disapproving look.
The door shuts. My shoulders fall with a release of years of stress evaporating. I collapse into Lincoln’s arms.
There are no tears, just an overwhelming sense of relief—that they’re gone. That I don’t feel picked apart. And that he’s here.
“Thank you,” I say into his shirt.
“Stop thanking me,” he chuckles, his body rumbling.
“God, this feels good.”
“I hope you mean that you’re in my arms . . .”
“That,” I giggle, pulling away to look at him, “but also that they’re gone. I’ve never stood up to them. And I guess I didn’t this time either, but you did. For me.”
“For you.” His eyes are so kind, brimming with emotion that it makes my knees feel weak. “I have something to show you.” When I do, I see he’s extending a set of papers towards me. “My contract.”
“Congratulations,” I utter. It pains me to say that. I’d hoped he had walked away from it all, but seeing the sheets in his hand, it’s obvious he re-signed with the Arrows. I want to take the crisp white pages and burn them and then take the ashes and dilute them in water and flush them down the toilet. Those fucking papers are destroying my life.
“Thanks.” He peers into the living room. “What’s up with all the boxes?”
Stepping away, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I can’t stay here. I’m putting my notice in on Monday.”
“Where you going?”
“Boston. My friend Macie lives there and has a job lined up for me.”
“Boston? It’s too fucking cold in Boston.”
I pull away and head to the kitchen, needing some kind of buffer between me and him. At least in there, I can separate us with the table so I can think straight.
“I was thinking something the other direction,” he says, following me. “How about Savannah? I could get you a job there, if that’s what you want.”
Sighing, I walk around the table and look at him over the top of it. “I don’t need you to get me a job.”
“I know you don’t. I’m trying to sell you on an idea here, Ryan.”
“I don’t know where this leaves us now that you’re staying in Memphis. I mean, on one hand, you’re still here so that makes it easier. But on the other, you’re still you and I’m still . . . me. Aren’t we going to be in this same position sooner or later?” I shrug sadly. “I can’t walk this line, knowing what’s coming, Landry. It has to be all or nothing with you.”
Those beautiful green eyes of his sparkle as his hands find the back of a chair in front of him. He leans his weight on it and smiles. “I pick all.” It’s a simple answer, one that throws me. He slides a stack of papers across the table. “Which is why I was thinking Savannah. But if you have another suggestion, I’m all ears. Just nowhere north of here. I don’t do winter.”
“What?”
He motions towards the papers. “Look at those.”
Everything inside me stills. “Landry . . .”
“Damn it, Dani. Don’t be so fucking hard-headed,” he laughs. “Look at the papers.”
They rattle in my hand as I pick them up. The first page is an agreement for trade. It’s a standard contract that I’ve seen in my dad’s office a few times. I flip through until I find a little yellow arrow flag. There’s no signature above his name.
I don’t trust my voice and, instead, look up at him. He grins. Going back to the papers, white noise filling my ears as more hope than I can handle if this turns bad rushes over me, I find another paper clip. It’s a notice of retirement.
I drop the papers. They flutter across the tabletop.
“What did you do
?” I say, my words muffled with the emotion I’m trying desperately to hold back.