Swing (Landry Family #2)(51)
As good as it feels to say that out loud, it’s even better to be met with Lincoln’s smile.
Danielle
MY HEAD RESTS AGAINST LINCOLN’S shoulder as the car, driven by one of Barrett’s staff, rumbles down the road. The plane ride to Savannah was fast, uneventful, and quite frankly, the best trip I’ve ever taken. First class and sitting next to him, breathing him in, feeling his touch, watching women beg him for attention while he held my hand was pretty much the stuff dreams are made of.
Lincoln squeezes my hand, our fingers interlocked as they have been since we got in the car. “You okay?”
I’m not sure if I am okay. Right now, I’m perfect. I haven’t felt this excited about something since I was a little girl and I’m not even sure what it is I’m excited about. Spending time with Lincoln? Being a part of something bigger on a holiday? Feeling this happiness in my heart? Maybe some of all of it. But with the good, comes the bad. There’s the unknown of what happens when we get home.
This feels right. Being with him always feels right. But how do you trust your heart when your brain is screaming you know better? When as soon as you start feeling good about things, a photo essay flashes before your eyes highlighting the resemblances in past mistakes and this situation?
The uncertainty of what’s ultimately right, not what feels right at this moment, keeps me wobbly. So I do what any crazy person does: I don’t think about it. Pasting on a smile and reminding myself I’m enjoying this weekend for what it is, I squeeze his hand back.
“I’m good,” I say.
“I hope so. I’m just really glad to have you here.” He brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the top. When my phone rings inside my purse, I think about not answering it because it means taking my hand out of his. He seems to figure that out and laughs, using his free hand to unlace ours. “Get it.”
With an exaggerated sigh, I dig through my bag and pull out the glowing device. “Hello?”
“I’m so sorry to call you while you’re on holiday,” Gretchen rushes, “but I have news. Big news!”
“Really?” I squirm in my seat. This can go one of two ways. “What is it?”
“I just got a call from the business office, Danielle. There’s been a donation to the department. Big enough that we don’t have to worry about anything until mid-year next year! We can stay fully staffed and under normal operations for the time being.”
I can hear the emotion in her throat and it causes my own to clench shut. My mind races with all this means—continued service to so many children and their families. A job. Hope.
How did we get so lucky?
“I’m in disbelief,” she chokes out. “I haven’t slept in nearly two weeks. I’m drinking a mai tai to celebrate and then I’m passing out.”
“Who made the donation? We need to thank them somehow.” I glance at Lincoln as he shifts away from me ever-so-slightly. “I feel like a load of stress has just evaporated from my shoulders.”
“We don’t. It was made anonymously this morning.”
A twitch pinches my gut, hidden away in that place that only triggers when you know something you don’t know you know. It crawls out, over my heart, making it tingle, and to my brain. “We don’t, huh?” I look at Lincoln’s profile, all angles and scruff. He refuses to look at me.
“No. But whoever it is deserves a huge hug. And a kiss.” She rattles on and on while I watch Lincoln pointedly not look at me. “Are you still there, Danielle?”
“Yes,” I laugh, shaking my head. “Such great news. Thank you for calling. I’ll see you at work on Monday!”
“See you then. Happy Thanksgiving.” The phone goes back in my bag as I continue to wait for Lincoln to look at me. “Guess what?”
“What’s that?” He faces me, his eyes cautious.
“Someone anonymously donated enough money to keep our program going for a while. Isn’t that nice?”
“That’s awesome, Dani.”
“You, uh, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Instinctively, he leans away. It’s so slight, so barely noticeable that I know he doesn’t realize he’s done it. And therefore, given himself up. “Why would I?”
“I think you do, Landry.” My hand rests on his knee, and with even pressure, I run it up his muscled thigh to the bend of his jeans.
“I think you’re crazy,” he gulps, nodding towards Troy as if he’s reminding me he’s there.
“Don’t act innocent. No one believes you.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” he grins, “I’m happy to fuck you right here.”
“Landry!” I exclaim, my cheeks burning.
He chuckles in return while Troy, ever the professional, pretends not to notice. The car pulls up to the entrance of the Farm. It is beautiful. An ornate gate opens, and a long, winding driveway extends in front of us. Hedges block any visibility from the road, and it’s not until we are rounding a bend that I can see the house.
Why they call it a farmhouse is beyond me. That word paints an image of a little white house with a chicken coop. This is a Southern plantation. A huge, wide porch with pillars looks to encompass the entire place. Mums line whiskey barrels and give the clean exterior pops of burgundy, orange, and yellow. It’s breathtaking.