Sway (Landry Family #1) (38 page)

“What are you looking for?” I ask, laughing.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m looking.”

“Fair enough.”

It’s getting late and I’m tired from the day’s events. My entire body hurts, aches, throbs like I’ve been in an accident. My muscles are sore, my head pounding, and my heart cracked and possibly irreparable.

I’ve thought about turning around to go to Barrett all evening. At least calling him and seeing what he has to say. But a part of me, the prideful part, won’t let me do it. What if he tells me Nolan is right? What if he admits Lacy’s story is true? What if he just says the incident with her tonight, coupled with the Huxley situation, caused him a headache and he thinks we should stall things while he gets things figured out?

The answer is, I can’t deal with it. Not tonight, not while my head feels cloudy like I’ve drank my weight’s worth of vodka.

I look up to see Huxley opening a piece of candy from the vending machine.

“Do you want to go swimming downstairs?” I ask him.

He plops the candy in his mouth “Sure. After this show though, okay?”

Yawning, I grab my toiletries that Lola packed for me. “I’m going to get a shower while you watch.”

He nods, engrossed in the plot. I kiss his head as I walk by and lock myself in the bathroom. Looking at my reflection, my swollen eyes and raggedy hair, I see the girl that looked back at me after my divorce.

My heart breaks as tears spill down my cheeks. I hope beyond all hope that somehow, by morning, some of this will sort itself out in the fog in my mind.

Barrett

The sky is pitch black, not a star in it. I sit at the table where one night, what feels like years ago, I made love to Alison for the first time.

I remember the way she looked spread out on this very spot, the sounds she made, the feeling I had knowing that I was fucked in more ways than one.

I can’t help but realize I may have sacrificed the one thing I wanted for a bunch of things I didn’t. I should’ve done exactly what she told me to in regards to the election—trust my instincts and that my ideas are enough to win.

I should’ve done the same in my relationship with her.

My life falling apart hurts worse than anything I’ve ever dreamed I’d feel.

“Fuck,” I say to the darkness around me.

Graham and Lincoln are trying to find her, Graham letting me know that he didn’t have a plan for once because, as he put it, “Who would’ve thought she would’ve left you?” Not me. I suppose I thought she knew what she meant to me, but obviously she didn’t. Or I gave her enough of a reason to question it.

That’s a mistake I won’t make twice.

I just hope I have another chance to prove it.

I pick up my phone and dial Graham. He answers immediately.

“I didn’t find her yet,” he says, forgoing a hello.

“You know,” I say, “I’m tired.”

“Tired of what?”

“Of everything. I’m sitting here thinking about all the things I want to do in my life, and yeah, I’m on the path to get some of them accomplished. But if I get in office where I can actually do those things and I’m set up so I can’t, what’s the point?”

“You’re talking about the Land Bill?”

“Among other things. There’s a chance I could lose Alison over this,” I say, holding a breath.

He sighs. “She told Lincoln she just needed a little bit of time. Don’t panic. We’ll find her.”

“I know we will. But that doesn’t mean she’ll consider me a good enough prize to risk everything she’s giving up to be with me.”

“You aren’t a prize. That’s your first mistake,” he says.

“Fuck off, Graham.”

He laughs harder and I eke out a smile.

“What are you getting at, Barrett?”

I take my shoes off the table, something my mother would have a fit about if she could see me, and stand. “I’m saying I’m tired of doing everything the way I should or the way I’m told to. If I’m going to do this—politics, campaigns, relationships—I want to do it on my own terms. I want to do it my way and then, you know, I sink or swim on my own laurels.”

He doesn’t answer, probably thinking I’ve been drinking.

“I’m not drunk.”

“No, I know that.” He pauses and exhales. “Okay. I agree. Let’s do things your way. It’s your career, your life to fuck up if that’s what happens. So what do you want to do?”

“Schedule a press conference for me tomorrow. Early.”

“Me? I don’t have the contacts for that, Barrett.”

“Call my publicist and Rose. They’ll get the word out. I want to go on record first thing.”

“Are you absolutely sure? You do realize this conference has the potential of doing more harm than good, right?”

I nod. “Yeah, I know. But if I lose this election based on who I am, then did I want it to start with?”

Graham sucks in a breath. “What about Alison? I mean, depending on what you say, there’s a chance you could lose her over this too.”

A grin touches my lips. “Someone told me to believe in myself. So I’m going to set the record straight on everything and . . . hope it all works out.”

“If you’re sure.”

Before I can reply, my phone buzzes. I pull it away to see Alison’s name. My heart stops. “Ali is calling.” I don’t bother saying goodbye, knowing he understands, and try to ignore the pounding in my chest as I click over. “Alison?”

The line is quiet. No response.

“Alison, talk to me, baby,” I plead, my heart jumping to my throat.

“It’s me. Huxley.”

I spin in a circle, confused. “Hux? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Is your mom there, buddy?”

“Yeah.”

His voice is steady, strong, yet a little nervous. I have to calm the fuck down if I’m going to get anywhere with him.

“I’ve called you guys a few times tonight,” I say. “I couldn’t get through.”

“Mom’s phone was dead and it’s been on the charger since we got here.”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know.”

I pull the phone away from my face and take a deep breath. I can’t start barking orders, demanding shit. I have to walk a fine line. “Are you okay, Huxley? Is your mom okay?”

He doesn’t answer me again. The line is quiet. I hear a television on in the background, but no other voices.

“Hux?”

“You made her cry.”

My heart splinters, my shoulders slumping at his words. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You told me you wouldn’t.”

I pull the phone away and mutter a few profanities under my breath. How can a simple statement from a child make me feel like a kid myself?

“Sometimes,” I start, my voice shakier than I’d like, “adults do things they don’t mean to, just like kids do. But Huxley, I promised you, I would never make her cry on purpose and I didn’t. Right now I’m at the Farm, where you played ball with Linc, remember? And I’m worried sick about you and your mom. If you tell me where you are, I’ll come and get you. I’ll make things okay.”

“I can’t tell you because I know she doesn’t want you to know. And . . . I have to protect her.”

I bite down on my bottom lip. “Yes, you do. And if you feel like you have to protect her from me, I’m not going to argue with you. Because if there’s one thing in this life I want you to know, it’s to trust your gut.” I squeeze my eyes shut and wish to God I had taken my own advice sooner. “Don’t let anyone tell you what to do or how to feel, okay?”

“Okay.” He gets quiet, his little breath firing through the phone. “Barrett?” he asks, his voice unsure.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Do you love her? For real?”

I drag in a hasty breath, my chest tightening at his words. “I do,” I insist. “I love her very much. And I had planned next week to sit down with you, man to man, and ask you what you think about us being a family.”

“Really?” His little voice sings through the phone and it nearly breaks me in half.

“Really. I love your mom, but she’s
your
girl. I trust that you know what’s best for her and if you don’t think it’s a good idea, I’ll listen. Because I respect you. But I would love the opportunity to help you take care of her. And, you know, be there for you for the stuff girls suck at.”

“So guy stuff other than baseball?”

I laugh. “Yeah. I’ll use Linc for the baseball stuff because God knows I don’t want to mess you up there.”

I can tell he’s grinning, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Maybe when you get back to town, we can go to dinner, just the two of us, and you can tell me what you think about that, okay?”

“I think it’s a good idea. I need some help with her,” he says, a touch of exasperation in his little voice. “When she cries, I don’t know what to do. I need an adult, and my grandma just cries too, and then I have two crying girls to deal with.”

I wish he was here. But he’s not. And that’s a problem.

“I’ll gladly be your help with her. And if you tell me where you are, I’ll come now.”

He waits a moment before responding. “I can’t tell you tonight. She hasn’t agreed to be a family yet, so, right now, I have to be loyal to her.”

“Promise me one thing, okay?” I ask.

“Sure.”

“If you need anything, if your mom needs anything, you will call me.”

“Okay. But I need to go because she’s getting out of the shower now.”

“Hux?” I say quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling me. Call me anytime.”

“Okay,” he smiles. “But I do need to go.”

“Bye, buddy.”

“Bye.”

I end the call and gaze into the night.

Barrett

THE CROWD IS BUZZING BEHIND
the closed door. A few people stand in the wings with me, ensuring the main television stations are present and that the journalists that will run the story on me are here. They may as well get the word straight from the jackass’s mouth. Me. That’s how I feel over this situation. It’s time to make things right.

I'm in a black suit, customary red tie and flag pin, and have a bullet-point list of things to say in front of me that I scribbled out in the Rover on the way over here. From now on, I’m going with my gut, speaking from the heart, instead of relying on someone else’s script.

I’ve found some peace since talking to Huxley last night, not as much as if I’d spoken with Ali, but more than I had.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Absolutely sure?" Graham eyes me carefully, sipping on a cup of coffee. He's wearing a suit like mine, blue tie, and a lot more worry lines. He knows what I'm doing, and while I think he disagrees, he's done what I knew he would do—he shut up and got behind me.

"Do I look sure?"

He blows out a breath and slips his phone from his pocket. His face shows a few more lines when he hands it to me. "It's Dad. I'll just step away while you take this."

"Pussy," I grumble, taking the phone and watching him walk away. I scan the immediate area and duck inside a small room to my right. "Hey, Dad."

"Barrett, what in the hell are you doing? I'm on my way over there now after getting a call from Graham. What is this press conference about?"

"I'm taking matters into my own hands."

He sighs, the sound rattling through the phone. "Son, don't go out there and ruin what we've worked for. You are so close, and you can still do this. I don't know what's going on, if you’re cracking under the pressure, but we got this. Just—"

"Hey, Dad?"

"What?"

"Just stop it, all right?"

"Barrett."

"No, seriously. Stop. You know I love you. You know I want to make you proud and do all the things you want me to do."

"Things
you
want to do."

"Things
I
want to do," I say, rolling my eyes. "But I also want to do those things my way."

"This can't wait for another couple of days? My Lord, Barrett! Have some sense about you. We’ve already lost Nolan and now you want to go out there and sink the rest of it? Why, son? Why? The election is
today
!"

I laugh at the fact that I don't feel like I'm letting him down. I don't feel like I'm dropping the line or failing at life. Because I know, without a doubt, that what I'm about to do is the right thing
for me
. "This is the most sensible thing I've ever done. Trust me."

He doesn't answer, and I know he's trying to wrap his head around the fact that I'm laying down the law. But it was time—we both know it.