Swing (Landry Family 2)

“I don’t need to fix any more of your fuck-ups.”

Standing, I take a spot next to Lincoln. Resting my head on his shoulder, I smile at Graham. “Thank you for helping us get relocated.”

“It was just a few calls. And I didn’t even call about the coaching job. When the college heard Lincoln was retiring, they called me. It really happened on its own. No big deal.”

“It is to me,” I say. “Your family has been incredible about this whole thing—Lincoln’s retirement, our moving here, starting the children’s charity. I still can’t believe it.”

“It’s the way it’s supposed to be,” Lincoln says. “When things go the way they’re meant to, they just line up. This is where we’re meant to be. It’s obvious.”

Graham watches us both and tries to hide a laugh. I still haven’t figured him out all the way, but I like him. I just don’t know what makes him tick.

“I’ll leave you two alone. You coming to the Farm for Sunday dinner?” he asks as he opens the door.

“We’ll be there,” Lincoln tells him.

They whisper back and forth, and I’m curious, but don’t push. It’s something I’m still learning, the dynamics between siblings.

“I’ll see you later,” Graham says with a little wave and then disappears.

Lincoln stalks across the floor to me, stopping right in front of me. “Want to come inspect my work?”

“I’d like to inspect you,” I tease.

He takes my hand and leads me down the hall and into our bedroom. Boxes are still stacked everywhere and our bed is a mess because we can’t stay out of it. It’s perfect.

He sets the screwdriver on the floor and stands, looking at me wickedly. He holds up a can of squirt cheese.

“What are you doing?” I laugh.

“You like this stuff?”

“No. It’s fake cheese, Landry.”

“I never knew this existed until yesterday when Huxley threw it in the cart at the store.” He squirts some into his mouth and grins. “See? It’s great.”

“Your abs are great,” I say, running my finger down the bumps lining his stomach. They tighten as I stroke them.

“Want to lick cheese off them?”

“No,” I laugh.

“Come on. You know you want to. It’s okay.”

“Cheese isn’t sexy, Landry.”

“This isn’t technically cheese. It’s fake cheese.”

“Same thing.”

He backs me up until my knees hit the back of the bed and I collapse on the mattress. “Fine,” he says, reaching down and pulling his Wrecked tour t-shirt up. “But I like it and can eat all I want now that I’m not training for baseball.”

“Don’t get anything on this,” I gasp. “Stone Lockhart touched this. Breathed on it. Maybe his sweat touched it.”

“I’ve washed it a thousand times, Dani. Don’t get all sentimental.”

“Let’s not risk it. He’s so gorgeous. I might just live in this t-shirt forever.”

“First, you’re going to grow out of it soon. Second, what about my Arrows jerseys? Don’t you want to get all sentimental about those?”