Sway (Landry Family 1)

“I have investments,” he reminds me. “But you don’t have to know business to know about trust. If you have one person that has your back, you’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

“That’s true.”

Linc grimaces. He groans through the phone and I know he’s working his shoulder, trying to convince himself that it isn’t as bad as he’s been told.

“You probably need to rest that,” I point out.

“I am,” he barks.

“No, you aren’t. You’re working it around, trying to do the mind over matter bullshit that isn’t going to do anything but tear it up worse.”

“It’s fine.”

Rolling my eyes, I move the phone to my other hand. “Whatever you say.”

“Welp, not to cut this short or anything, but I have a call coming in I need to take."

I laugh at the hurriedness in his voice. "Piece of ass hitting you up?"

He clicks his tongue and I know I'm right. “Good to know I’m so high on your priority list,” I joke.

“I'll be in town tomorrow afternoon. See you then."

"Be safe."

Setting the phone on the nightstand, I glance at my clothes on the back of the chair. I need to pick them up, to grab a shower, to process the night. Hell, I really need something to eat.

Instead of sitting down with my briefcase or heading to the kitchen or shower, I sit on the edge of my bed and toy with the idea of calling Alison. My fingers itch to dial the number Graham located for me a couple of hours ago. Naturally, he doesn’t

know why I asked for it, and he was too busy to look into exactly who it was, otherwise he never would’ve done it.

Glancing at the clock again, my spirits sink. It’s too late. She said she has a kid and I’d probably wake him up.

I fall against the mattress and think back to her big blue eyes. The way they sparkled when she laughed, how it felt when she wrapped her fingers around my elbow and let me guide her. She didn't lead me, didn't try to press her own agenda.

An undeniable smile breaks across my cheeks.

I’ve forgotten what it's like to have someone around that's not jaded by everything. Everyone I know, everyone I deal with, knows what to say and when and how to say it. They toe the line, don’t rock the boat, follow suit—pick your well-behaved cliché. They know what's expected of them and who not to piss off.

Alison seems to have some experience in this kind of life, yet she doesn’t seem like it affects how she behaves.

Focus, Nolan said.

Grinning, I realize I’m following orders. I’m focusing, all right. Just not on what he wants me to.

Barrett

THE EARLY AFTERNOON SUN FILTERS through the curtains, the fall breeze dancing through the window. A gust picks up a stack of papers and ruffles them, threatening to send them cascading off the corner of my large wooden desk.

It's perfectly quiet here, the sound of birds chirping and an occasional noise from Rose, my secretary, downstairs are the only two things that disturb me.

I inhale a long breath of fresh air and try to absorb the peace. Between the planning committee, opening the bids for a new recreational area downtown, reviewing license requests from businesses, and taking calls from my election committee, my head is spinning faster than usual. The morning has been the new normal level of chaos. Just getting into the office downtown to do the work I was elected to do was a feat. Camera crews blocked the doors to the office, reporters shouting questions in response to Hobbs’ latest attack. It was a mess. By eleven, I couldn't take it anymore and grabbed Rose and headed here, to the Farm.

An old farmhouse that sits just outside the city, directly in the middle of a fifty-acre piece of property, this is my favorite place in the world. The front is heavily treed and it’s impossible to see the house from the road. It’s been the headquarters of my family's political campaigns and family gatherings for decades. It's now used by my father and Graham for business deals for Landry Holdings, by my brother, Ford, when he's home from the Marines and needs a place to decompress, and by me.

I close my eyes and feel the air on my skin, listen to the curtains sweep against the hardwood floors. I would love to take a walk through the woods, but there's no time for that these days. Each day that passes, the less inspired I am, the less I can remember what free time used to feel like and the more I struggle to remember why, exactly, this was a profession I wanted in the first place. Not being able to trust anyone, questioning everyone's motives, leaves me feeling completely alone. It's bizarre—the more public my life becomes, the more isolated I feel.

Adding to my distraction today is a certain beguiling girl. I think of things to say to hear her laugh, I come up with things to say just to get a response. I want to see her smile, smell her, hear her voice again so badly I can taste it and I don't know why.