Sway (Landry Family #1)(92)

“If anyone asks, I’m the one that hit him.” Troy gives us a look and turns back to Nolan. “I’m going to accompany you off the property and it would be best to go willingly and quietly.”

Nolan shuffles immediately towards the door but stops, with his back to us, when I speak.

“This isn’t over. If it would’ve been me, that would’ve been one thing. But you fucked with Alison and Huxley and you will pay for that. I promise you.”

“You better hope we can’t trace the guy taking pics of Huxley to you,” Lincoln warns him. “Because I will personally find you before the police do and will use my exemplary bat skills on your fucking face.”

Nolan flies down the steps and into his car. My father and Graham step outside, making calls to security, publicists, and others to let them know things have changed.

“Where is Ali?” I ask Linc.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“We have to find her.”





Alison

I PULL THE CURTAINS, A seventies floral print that probably wasn’t even pretty then, closed. The television plays a cartoon Hux watches sometimes as he goes through every drawer in the hotel room.

“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.”