Switch (Landry Family 3)

He runs his fingers through my hair, brushing it away from my face. “It drove me crazy at first. I had an anxiety attack for the first week,” he laughs. “But then something changed.”

Sliding my hand so it touches his chest beneath his shirt, I try to encourage him to go on.

“I guess it was partly Lincoln and a speech he and Barrett gave me at the Farm that I can keep my crutches or keep you. They told me I’d know when I’d fallen in love because I couldn’t replace her. I wouldn’t want to.”

He shifts me on his lap so I’m sitting up more. “Imagining you not coming in to work every day makes me not want to go either, and that job is all I’ve ever wanted. Then seeing you with my family . . . I get what my brothers were saying, Mallory.”

“Oh, Graham,” I say, feeling his heartbeat quicken under my hand.

“I’ve never been in love before. I’m not sure how it works. If we get to that point, and I mess it all up . . .”

“You’ve been in love before.” The words sting as I reference Vanessa, the one woman I would risk getting arrested to punch in the face.

“I haven’t,” he says, looking me in the eye. “I might have thought that at one time, but I’m one hundred percent sure that wasn’t love. A young infatuation, maybe. But love? No.”

My heart leaps in my chest and I struggle to sit up. My head is a bit wonky from the alcohol, but I press on.

“What are you saying, Graham?” I ask.

“I’m saying . . . I’m saying I’d like to risk my mental stability and grip on life to have you in it. But I’m warning you—”

I leap forward, pressing my lips to his. He winds me up in his arms, kissing me for all he’s worth. When we pull back, we’re smiling and breathless.

“Was that a yes?” he asks. “You didn’t even hear the disclaimer.”

“This isn’t a contract,” I laugh. “There are no execution dates or amendments or fine print.”

“That’s what I mean. I don’t know how this works.”

“It works like this: we take each for what we are. We know each other well enough to know our weaknesses and annoying behaviors.”

“Like the trash in your car?”

“No,” I state. “Like the fact your stapler has to sit three inches from your desk phone. That’s annoying.”

“That’s practical!”

“Well, I’ll overlook that and you overlook the misplaced scrap pieces of life on my floorboard.”

He rolls his eyes, but laughs. “Fine. But we’ll never take your car anywhere.”

“Compromise, Graham. It’s a key to relationships.”

“I don’t do that well.”

“I’ll teach you,” I say happily.

“I’m going to need a learning curve,” he admits. “I need you to have patience with me.”

“And I need you to give me room to grow,” I volley back. “I’ve been making progress on me and I don’t want to lose that.”

He kisses me sweetly. “I don’t want you to lose that.” He stands, offering me his hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Inside.”

“Why?”