Swear (Landry Family 4)

Trying to put my feelings into words is a lot harder than I expect. I know exactly what I’m thinking, but how do I make that understandable to someone else?

“It’s obvious he’s smitten with you,” he notes. “And it’s just as apparent you’re in love with him.”

“In love?” I laugh. “You saw us together for five seconds.”

“I knew it in one.”

“Well, I knew I loved him the minute I saw him,” I say softly. “I just need to know that this time, if there is a ‘this time,’ it’s for real. That it’s not just some phase in his life that he can walk away from if he feels a whim.”

Heath twirls around on his behind so that he’s facing me. He studies my features.

“I need to know,” I gulp, “that the universe hasn’t paired us up to waste some time between life events again. I don’t want to be his stepping stone, Heath.”

“You want to be his landing pad.”

I shrug, not sure if that’s what I want or not. “I don’t know. I know this time around is . . . more.” I stand, brushing off the seat of my pants. “I’m not a kid. I have a business I’ve worked my ass off for. I have plans, dreams . . .”

“Dreams of him?” Heath asks simply.

It’s a question I don’t answer.

Ford

THE BACK PORCH WELCOMES ME like an old friend. A whiskey barrel sits by the sidewalk. There are no flowers planted inside like there used to be when Mrs. Pagan was alive. There’s a green rug with WELCOME written across it and I wonder if it’s the same one that welcomed me the last time I was here.

I make my way across the concrete and to the screen door a few feet away. Sounds of a gunfight can be heard inside the little kitchen on the other side.

The steps creak with my weight, the door squeaking as I knock on the wooden frame. My eyes adjust to the light. I see Bill Pagan sitting at the round table Ellie made in shop class her junior year. It’s shoved to the wall between the refrigerator and cabinets, just like it was the last time I was here.

“Ford Landry,” he says with a nod. “Come on in.”

The kitchen looks like I’m walking back in time. Everything is exactly where it was years ago—a time capsule, almost.

If I closed my eyes, I could see Ellie’s mom, Gloria, standing at the stove. I could smell her pot roast cooking in the oven and see her homemade pie crusts rolled out on the counter to my right.

I sit at the chair next to the refrigerator. “How are you, Mr. Pagan?”

He gruffs, waving a hand through the air. “Don’t start with the ‘Mr. Pagan’ bullshit.”

“Sorry,” I grin. “How are you, Bill?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, just stares at the television in front of him. Finally, he looks at me and answers me with a question of his own. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” I reply. “Ellie says you’re doing well.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t tell her everything.”

My brows pull together as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. Do I press for more information? Is he being facetious? I don’t know. He’s a hard man to read, and I’ve been gone a long time.

“You been traveling the world?” he asks.

“I’ve seen some of it,” I admit.

“Is it as bad as they make it out to be on the news these days?”

“Parts of it. Parts of it not.” I stretch my legs out in front of me. “I’m glad to be home though.”

He nods, taking me in. “Ellie was pretty upset when you left.”