Swing (Landry Family #2)(53)

“Oh, sweet girl,” Mrs. Landry says softly, her hand patting my back as she leans in. “It’s Vivian. Mrs. Landry was my mother-in-law.” She sends me a quick wink before turning to her husband.

“It’s nice to meet you,” her husband says, shaking my hand. He gives me a kind smile, but I can tell he’s distracted. “Lincoln, want to take a walk with me?”

I grab on to his bicep as he looks warily at me. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” he asks, his brows pulled together.

“I’m sure. I’m a big girl.”

Vivian places a hand on my shoulder. “Go on with your father,” she tells her son. “I’ll take Danielle inside and we’ll get her some food. You hungry, dear?” she asks me.

“A little.” I’m not, but I want Lincoln to go. He needs to, I think. “I’ll be inside when you get back.

He kisses my cheek, much to his mother’s amusement, and takes off down the stairs with his father.

“Do you like soup?” she asks.

I almost laugh. “Soup is great.”





Lincoln

THE WIND IS COOL AND steady as we step off the porch and away from the house. I let my father lead me. We amble down the driveway for a bit before he takes a detour off the asphalt and towards a little bench near the tree line.

My stomach knots and twists as I try to read his body language. He’s said nothing, indicated nothing, and it has me wanting to just ask him outright what he has to say. Because there’s something. There always is.

Looking towards the house as I take a seat next to my father, I wonder what Dani’s doing. If she’s okay. If she’s nervous or anxious. This kind of thing is new to her, and I have no clue how she’s feeling, and that adds majorly to the chaos inside me.

I want to be with her. My hand around her waist. My ears picking up her giggle, making sure she’s happy and comfortable.

“Lincoln?” Dad’s voice pulls me back to the cold, iron seat. His eyes are on me, but the fire I expected in them isn’t there. I breathe a sigh of relief.

He’s always treated me like the youngest boy in the family. True, I am, but I’m capable. I’ve never needed him, not like Barrett and Ford have. I’ve never asked him for a dime, for a job, or for anything more than a piece of advice and that was only when there was not one other person in the world that knew what I needed to know. Yet, he always seems like I’m hanging by a thread or on the cusp of destroying everything. Sure, I might have wrecked a couple of cars and got tossed from a game . . . or two. But I’m not whatever he thinks I am.

“How are you doing, Son?”

My head bobbles around. “Good. Fine. Everything is chugging along.”

“Therapy going well?”

“Sure.” I toe a rock with my sneaker. “I meet with the management when I get back about the assessment I did yesterday.”

He nods, taking in more than my words. He already knew this, but what he didn’t know is how I feel about it. I’m careful with him. I project what I want him to take away. The way he’s looking at me now has me nearly squirming. He’s putting together every cue I’m emitting.

“I talked to your agent about that briefly yesterday. What’s your plan, Lincoln?”

“For what?”

“For your career.” He blows out a breath, fixing his gaze on something across the lawn. “I’m assuming you want to re-sign in Tennessee.”

“Definitely,” I say without hesitation. “I love it there. They love me there. I’d love to be a franchise player for them.”

“Have you given any thought to being traded?”

The knot winds tighter. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And I’ll have to go,” I nearly bark. When I see his eyes narrow, I relent. “I’m just worried, Dad. I’ve had this over my head for weeks now. I just need an answer so I can get comfortable. Does that make sense?”

His hand clamps on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It does. It’s hard to not know what the future holds. It causes a lot of stress.” His hand falls back to his lap. “That’s the hardest part of elections. You gear up for these things for months, even years sometimes, and have to wait it out. It’s not good for a man’s sanity,” he chuckles.

“How did you handle it?”

“Well . . .” He tosses around the words in his head before speaking. “To tell you the truth, it’s why I stopped campaigning. It’s why I took Landry Holdings to another level. The nerves couldn’t handle it anymore. And neither could your mama.”

“Mom can handle anything,” I laugh.

He shrugs, a smile still on his face. “She’s a tough one. She’s handled this life with the dignity and class of a saint, especially considering who she’s married to,” he winks. “But after my last campaign, we had a sit down. She was really over it. She never once asked me not to run again. She wouldn’t do that. She loves me too much, understands this is in my blood. But she stood beside me and supported me for years, Linc. There had to come a time when I decided to do what was right by both of us.”

This is news to me. I always thought my mom loved the publicity as much as my father. And I also always thought my dad did whatever he wanted. How weird.