Sway (Landry Family #1)(81)

Lincoln laughs. “Him ‘making that decision’ would be like a coach telling me to swing at the first three pitches without letting me get up there and get a good look at it first. It’s asinine.”

“We don’t have time for baseball metaphors,” Graham says, rolling his eyes. “This had to be done. It’s not something we can explain to you in a matter of hours. This is not balls and strikes.”

“You know what? Fuck you,” Lincoln says, but he’s not entirely kidding. “I may not know much about politics, but that was by choice. And not knowing shit about that doesn’t mean I don’t know what a good decision looks like.”

I sigh, watching my brothers and father go at it right in front of me. Seeing them at odds over this campaign, the frustration in their eyes, makes me feel horrible.

Pushing away from the table, I stand and look down at my father. I know what I'll look like in another twenty years. I wonder how much I'll resemble him in other ways.

Giving him a tight smile, I nod and walk out. My mother grins at me from the kitchen as I walk by, but doesn't speak. She watches me, her brows pulled together.

Troy is standing outside the front door and pops open the back of the Rover. I slide in and he's in the driver's seat before I know it.

"Where to?" he asks, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

I shrug. Nowhere sounds good. I feel alone, completely fucking alone, and that's where I want to be.

"Just drive."

I don’t tell him to take me to her place, but he does anyway. Maybe that means I’m a lost cause or maybe it means he knows me well enough to see what I need. Either way, when the Rover pulls up in front of the little white house, I can’t help but feel relieved.

Troy catches my eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Thanks,” I say, nodding.

He doesn’t respond, just watches me climb out and make my way to the front door. I knock a few quick raps and she pulls it open right away. Her face lights up when she sees me and I step inside and waste no time getting my arms around her.

She buries her head in my chest and plants a kiss on my sternum. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispers.

“Me too.”

She closes the door behind us and we amble into the living room. I don’t let go of her; I need her touch, her presence, to assuage some of the stress rioting through me.

“How are you?” she asks.

“Shitty.” I sit down and pull her onto my lap. Nuzzling my face into her hair, I breathe her in and let it comfort me like it always does. “But I’m better at the moment.”

“I’ve been thinking about you all day. You sounded so upset last night. If Hux hadn’t been home, I would’ve come and found you.”

“This not being with you all the time, not having you accessible to me, has got to end.”

“One thing at a time, okay?” she whispers, kissing my cheek. “I’m here for you whenever you need me. You need to just focus on work for the next few days.”

I hold her tight, this precious girl that dropped into my life with a tray of champagne. She has no idea what she means to me or that I need her every minute of every day.

“Can I just hold you right now?” I ask, feeling my nerves settle. “I don’t want to think about anything other than what you feel like in my arms.”

“Sounds good to me,” she says and gets comfortable in my lap.

For the next half hour, I sit on her couch in the outskirts of Savannah and hold the one thing that I’m sure is the right thing.





Alison

THE FRONT DOOR OPENS AND I hear my mother’s voice. There’s something off with the tone, something that has the hair on the back of my neck sticking up.

I put down the brush I’d been running through my hair. Hillary’s House today was insane and I was able to get a quick shower in before Mom brought Huxley home from school.

Walking into the hallway, I see them both standing in the foyer. My mom looks as white as a ghost.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask, frozen in place.

“Some guy was taking my picture,” Hux declares, like it was no big deal. “Grandma went crazy, Mom. She—”

“What?” I shriek.

Mom takes off her coat and then shrugs it right back on again, physically shivering, even though it’s not that cold outside. “I got him off the bus like usual at my house. We started walking up the sidewalk—”

“And this man was in a van with a big camera,” Huxley cuts her off. I’m too nervous to even reprimand him for manners.

“What was he doing?” I ask, looking at Mom.

She just nods. “I called the police. The guy took off, but I got his license plate number and they pulled him over a few streets away. He’s being held downtown now.”

My heart clenches. The room starts spinning. “Oh my God.”

Hux’s arms are around my waist before I can think. I hold on to him for dear life.

My precious boy, the child that doesn’t deserve his privacy to be invaded because of my choices.

Guilt floods me, tears doing the same to my eyes. I feel like a piece of shit mother.

Every bad thing that could’ve happened today, every terrible thing that still could, sweeps through my mind all at once and I feel like I’m going to pass out. All I can do is hold on to Huxley.