Sway (Landry Family #1) (43 page)

Blowing out a breath like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, he turns to me. “I just checked my messages from today. I have to head out tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure. The owner of the Arrows said I need to meet with them first thing Monday.”

“That’s normal, right? A business meeting or something?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Normally. But this has to do with my shoulder.”

Lincoln reaches up and grabs it, wincing as he rolls it around. “I have a feeling they’re going to either let me go or try to trade me. And if they trade me all jacked up like this, my contract will be shit, man.”

“Ah, Linc.”

“Yeah. If I can convince them I can get it rehabbed before spring training, I have a shot. But Barrett . . .” He looks into the night. “I don’t know if I can. This fucking hurts. I’ve downplayed it, taken a shit ton of pain meds, but it’s pretty mangled.”

“Have you had scans and stuff?”

He nods. “The test results I got said it should heal. But the main one wasn’t back when I left for here. I’m assuming the team got them and my copy is at my house.”

“It’ll work out,” I say, patting his thigh. “You’re the best centerfielder in baseball.”

He shakes his head as if he’s unsure and stands. “Watching you over the last couple of days has made me think. You just took everything in stride, just changed position and stepped to the plate.” When he looks at me, his face is somber. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself—”

“I’m not. I feel it in my gut. This isn’t just going to go away and I don’t know how I’m going to handle that. I’m not like you, Ford, or Graham. All I can do is play baseball.”

Watching his face fall unravels my happiness. I want to tell him it’s going to be okay. I want to assure him that everything will be okay like I did when he had tendonitis in high school. But the man I’m looking at isn’t my goofy little brother. He’s a grown man with a career and his concerns are as serious as mine were about my own problems.

“Maybe it won’t be okay,” I say as easily as I can. “But want to know what I’ve learned lately?”

“Sure.”

“Sometimes things look like they’re all fucked up. There are times life throws you curveballs, as you say, and you have to swing or take the pitch. You’re tempted just to swing so you won’t strike out looking. But in your gut, you know it’s going to be a ball. You just have to learn to trust your instincts.”

A flicker of animation rolls across his features. “Nice analogy.”

“Never mind that. Do you get what I’m saying, Linc?”

He starts to the house and I follow a step behind, giving him space. His head is bowed, his hands in his pockets, before he stops and faces me again.

“What if I get caught looking?”

I place my hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you this is going to be okay because I don’t know if it will.”

“Geez. Thanks.”

“But I do know one thing for a fact. Regardless of whether you play baseball or if you have to figure out something else, you’re going to do it with all of us behind you. And while that doesn’t help in a lot of ways—you still have to figure things out yourself—you won’t have to do it alone. You have a tribe of brothers and sisters behind you to help you along the way, just like you all came to bat for me this week.”

His lips quirk. “So if I call you and need a job in the Governor’s Mansion, you’re fine with that? You’ll let me be your Director of Sports or something?”

“There is no such thing,” I groan, starting back to the house again.

“Maybe it’s something we can start.”

“Maybe we concentrate on getting you rehabbed so we aren’t trying to fit you in the Governor’s Mansion, all right?”

His grin is back in full force. “Barrett?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Glancing at him over my shoulder, we start up the steps. “That’s what family’s for.”

Alison

THE CLOCK CHANGES TO THREE
o'clock in the morning. The party has dwindled down, all that's left of the celebration is a tremendous mess that someone’s going to have to clean up later.

Huxley went to bed hours ago. Harris and Vivian left around one, escorted home by Troy.

Lincoln is lying on the sofa, his Tennessee Arrows hat pulled down over his eyes, snoring away. His right arm is draped across his body, his left hand on his right shoulder. I catch Barrett watching him.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing, really."

"You're lying."

Barrett grins. "Lincoln's arm is fucked up worse than he's letting on. He has some major therapy to do coming up and if it doesn't get better, he might not get re-signed."

"Oh, Barrett." My heart pulls for Linc.

"It sucks. It's all he's ever wanted to do. He's had a ball in his hand since he could pick it up. He could rattle off stats as soon as he could talk."

"Can we help?"

"No. He has to do what the doctors say and hope he didn't completely ruin his shoulder."

“I’ll say a prayer for him.”

I look around the room, but we are the only ones left. Ford, the responsible one, went to bed upstairs with his dog. Graham headed home first, right around midnight, with a look of pure satisfaction on his face. Harris is the one that praised Barrett the most tonight, but I secretly think it's Graham that's the most proud.

Camilla left, escorted by a friend of their family just a few minutes ago. Barrett glared at the guy all night, so I'm not sure if he's going to be around much longer. Sienna is the only Landry, besides Barrett, still awake and she's sitting on the back porch with Lola, comparing tattoos the last time I eavesdropped. They have the same eclectic taste, the same free-spirited mentality. They’ve hung out together all night.

The excitement of the last few days has taken its toll and I feel completely exhausted. My bones hurt, much to my surprise. I'm utterly spent. The mixture of emotions, the worry, anxiety, pride, anger, fear have all sapped my energy, and I'm left standing in the living room of the Farm trying to figure out what's next.

Barrett comes up behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist. I tilt my head to the side automatically, and his lips find my ear.

"Ready to go to bed?" he asks, kissing me right behind my lobe. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, a tell-tale sign that he’s feeling me out. He’s waiting on me to make the next move. But I don’t know which move to make.

Barrett spins me around, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Ms. Baker, I’m getting impatient.”

“Why?” I giggle.

“Are you ready to go to bed or not?”

"Are you sure it’s okay for us to stay here? I mean, Hux is already asleep, but I could just take him home. I didn’t realize—”

He silences me with a kiss, a lingering, sweet gesture that makes it impossible to not melt in his arms.

When he pulls back, he’s smirking. “You’re staying here. I’m not giving you an opportunity to overthink things or talk yourself out of this. This, you and me and Huxley together, is our new reality.”

My exhale comes out in skittish waves, my anxiety palpable. “I can just go home and we can see each other soon.”

"Yes. Yes, we will. Soon, as in, when I wake up and open my eyes and see you lying beside me in my bed. Then you can go downstairs and sing while you fix Hux and me breakfast."

It sounds wonderful, blissful, actually. But a part of me thinks it’s too soon for that. He might need time to process this. I might need time to process this.

"Stop," he whispers, taking my face in his hands. "I don't."

"You don't what?"

"Need to think about this."

"I didn't say that," I point out.

"You didn't have to, babe."

Just like he did on the night I first met him, he breaks me down inch by inch. His charm softens my resolve, his smirk weakening me further. His touch and scent as he pulls me into him obliterate whatever objections I have left. It’s ridiculously unfair and totally overwhelming . . . and only one of the reasons I fell in love with him.

Although he’s different than any man I’ve known, and he’s nothing like Hayden, I can’t help but feel a little blip of uncertainty sweep over me. Knowing he deserves the opportunity, I give him a chance to sway me to his side.

"What if this is all wrong?" I ask.

"What if it's all right?"

"What if we mess this up a million different ways?"

"What if we nail it every way we go at it?" he smirks.

"What if you decide you hate me?"

He laughs, kissing me on the nose. "What if you decide you’re going to love me forever? Because that, Ms. Baker, is what I’m going to make sure happens."

I rest my head against him, listening to his heartbeat. The room is quiet, the televisions off, and for the first time since this craziness started, it feels like it’s just him and me.

Wrapped in his arms, I feel safe. Loved. Respected. Those are things I’ve not experienced before. More than that, he’s worthy of all of those things in return.

"I have something to tell you too," I say, lifting my chin so I’m looking him in the eye.

"Yeah?"

"You won my vote back."

He laughs. “What finally convinced you?”

“Let’s see . . .” I say, twisting my face in total concentration. “It might have been seeing you without a shirt on. Or it might have been watching you with Huxley. But, then again,” I shrug, a smile touching my lips, “it might have been the grapes.”

Barrett

IT’S EVERYTHING I THOUGHT IT
would be.

Her arm lies across my chest, her hair spilling across the pillows. She’s pressed as close as possible to my side, probably more my doing than hers, but I’m not complaining. Her chest rises and falls against me, and it’s the most peaceful, beautiful moment of my life.

I place a kiss against her forehead and say a quiet prayer of thanks. I’m so grateful for all the things that have happened over the last few weeks, even the bad because even with them, I still got here. And I wouldn’t risk redoing anything if that meant putting this moment in jeopardy. I wouldn’t do that for all the money in the world.

Alison stirs beside me, her long lashes fluttering before her lids rise. It takes her a second to realize where she is and watching that realization spatter across her features is priceless.

A slow smile stretches across her lips that beg to be kissed. “Morning,” she says sleepily.

“Morning, beautiful.”

She stretches and starts to pull away and I just sink her in even closer, if that’s possible. She understands my sentiment because she shakes her head, but relaxes, her head on my chest this time. “I could get used to this.”

“You better get used to this,” I reply, my tone sharper than I intended.

She gazes up at me, cocking a brow, and I shrug.

“What? You think you’ll be out of bed before me in the morning?” I ask, a tease in my tone.

Before she can reply, the door flies open and Huxley leaps from the doorway, through the air, and lands on the foot of the bed. “Morning!” he almost shouts before jumping on top of his mother and I.

“Hux!” she says. “Easy, kiddo. It’s early.”

As he shimmies himself on top of the blankets between us, I catch her eye over the top of his head.

“And you’re going to have to start knocking,” she laughs.

“I can’t help it,” he says, giggling. “I have so much energy.”

“What have you been into this morning? What time is it?” she asks.

“I don’t know, but Uncle Linc made waffles with chocolate syrup this morning. Have you ever had that, Mom?”

Laughing, I roll onto my side so I can see them both. This would’ve seemed like the oddest picture a year ago but now, it’s perfect.

“It’s because he’s really a little kid smashed into that big body,” I say.

“I can see that,” Hux replies, considering my words, making us laugh.

“You know, Huxley,” I say, tapping him on the stomach. “We have a few things to discuss today.”

“We do?”

“We do. We were going to have a conversation about what we were going to do with this mom of yours. Remember?” I glance at Alison and watch her blush.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, looking at me. “What are we gonna do with her?”