Swing (Landry Family 2)

“Right,” I whisper.

I’ve never said something as truthful as that. I love him. I love Lincoln Landry. It scares me, both from the power of the feeling and from who he is. I don’t know what the future is going to hold. I just know that it’s him and me. Together. And we can write our own truth far away from the poison that tainted me.

“I don’t want to think about coming home and not having you there. I’m not saying move in,” he says as I try to object again, “but I do want to think you like being with me and want to be there. A lot.”

“So don’t bring my bed, just my lingerie?” I joke.

“Bring the fucking bed if it’ll keep you there,” he laughs. “Bring what you want. That’s the thing: I want you to feel comfortable at my house. I want to blend more of our lives together. I’ve realized the more we do that—getting your favorite things at my place, seeing you wear my shirts, sleeping in my bed, having you meet my family—the happier I am and the happier you seem.”

He’s right. I don’t have to say it because he obviously knows, but he is absolutely correct. There’s not a part of me that feels unchanged from the me before Lincoln Landry waltzed off the elevator onto the wrong floor. I can’t remember what I did after work or what I thought about then as I went to sleep. I surely don’t remember my face hurting from smiling so much.

“I love you,” I say.

Kissing the top of my head and then unfolding himself from the sofa, he stretches his arms overhead. “I need to go. I have a meeting with the Arrows in a few hours and I need to unpack and grab a shower and shit.”

I stand too. “How do you feel about it?”

“My shoulder feels better. But the thing is, I don’t know what they’re going to say about it. Once you’ve had this happen, it tends to reinjure and that means games on the bench.”

My stomach twists as the game that ruined my life comes back into play. I’ve put off thinking about this meeting, not asking too many questions and not pressing for details. Lincoln has seemed fine with that. But now, knowing it’s looming over his head, I can’t help the series of questions firing through my mind.

“Do you want to stay in Memphis?” I ask, biting my bottom lip. “I mean, if you have the choice, is that what you want?”

“Of course.” He takes a step to me and brushes the back of his hand down the side of my face. “Really, I’d be happy anywhere if you were there with me.”

“I live here,” I point out, my voice wobbling.

“And, right now, so do I. Most likely I will when I get back later today too.” He bends forward and takes in what I’m sure is anxiety written all over my face. “Hey. Relax. It’s just a meeting.”

“It’s just a meeting,” I repeat, although that’s not true and I hate that he’s comforting me. “I know that. Now go, get it over with so we know what we’re facing.”

“Exactly.” He kisses my forehead. “It’s what we’re facing because we’ll figure it out together, all right?”

“All right.”

He gives me one final, reassuring look and then leaves. As soon as the door closes, the walls cave in. The hum of the ice maker in the kitchen dances through the air and it only makes the quiet more obvious. No one is laughing, no one arguing. A television isn’t on in another room and cell phones aren’t chirping from some far corner of the house.

It’s just me.

And I hate it.

I drag my luggage to my room and empty the clothes into the laundry bin. Sorting my toiletries in the bathroom, I try to hum, sing, talk to myself out loud just to break the stillness. It seems that is something that can’t be fixed by my antics alone. It’s something deeper than yearns to be filled.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I type a quick text to Lincoln.

Me: Good luck today.

Landry: I don’t need luck. I have you.

Me: Charmer. Call me when you get home.

Landry: Just be there waiting on me. Key is under the front mat.

Me: Gasp! That’s the most obvious place to put it.

Landry: Good point. Use the one I put on your keychain then. ;)

I bounce to my purse in the living room and dig until I find my keychain. There’s an extra key with a purple rubber band around the top dangling in between my car key and my house key.