Swing (Landry Family #2)(58)

“It’s like this,” he says. “Meeting her has put me in a position.”

“Like doggy style?” Sienna laughs.

“No,” he sighs. “Like . . . I’m standing at the plate in the championship game. We’re down by three and bases are loaded. Full count. The perfect pitch is coming and I’m a fucking idiot if I don’t swing.”

I hear my gasp. I look behind me to see if anyone else did. The room is vacant, the laughs from the kitchen trickling into the foyer. Tears dot my eyes as my hand lies across my heart.

“Wanna define swing?” Sienna giggles.

“Yeah,” I whisper, then clamp my hand harder around my lips.

“Just . . . I can’t be tentative up there, Sienna. I can’t think about it too much, rethink my decision. Yeah, it could be a ball. There’s no guarantee. But every fucking indication is that it’s a fastball and that’s my jam. It could be a curveball. I could strike out in a blaze of glory. But it’s still a blaze of glory. It was still worth that chance.”

I brush my eyes with the back of my hands. My heart feels like it’s bursting in a Fourth of July finale.

For some reason, it means so much more that I heard him say it to someone else. With Sienna, he didn’t feel compelled or pressured to say these things. It wasn’t said in the heat of the moment. He means it. I’m sure of it, and I can’t take it. I shove the door open. I need to see him. I need to hug him. I need him to know I feel the same way before I start thinking about curveballs and change-ups.

“Hey,” I say, probably a little too loudly as I step onto the porch. Lincoln is leaning against the railing, his body facing his sister who is sitting on the porch swing. “Sorry that took so long.”

Sienna rises, flashes her brother a knowing look, and then comes my way. “No worries. It was nice having a minute to catch up with Linc. I’m going to head in and see what Ford’s doing. I haven’t given him enough hell yet.”

“See you in a bit,” Lincoln calls after her. Once we’re alone, he extends a hand to me. Without a second thought, I go to him. But I don’t take his hand. Instead, I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my head against his chest. He smells faintly of the cologne he put on hours ago mixed with the pines spattering the landscape around us.

One hand finds the small of my back, one caresses the back of my head. It’s the safest, most adored moment of my life. I’m not sure how because he’s not saying a word. He’s not saving me from anything. There’s no declaration promised or insinuated.

Maybe it’s just the love I feel pulsing through the Farm. I suppose it could be infecting my brain somehow. Pulling away from him, I look into his eyes and I’m wrong. It’s not the love in the air. It’s the love buried in those green eyes.

“Let’s take a walk,” he whispers. Taking my hand and interlacing our fingers together, he guides me down the steps. The sun hangs barely, sending a final farewell with a burst of purples and pinks.

“Where are we going?” I ask. We take the corner of the house and then veer away from the lights and down what looks to be a well-worn path. It extends down a little hill and into the trees. “There aren’t bears or wolves in here, right?”

He rolls his eyes and mocks me. I shove him off the path, making him laugh. Before I can press the issue, the trees break around a pristine little lake. It’s not big, maybe covering a few acres. There’s a dock to the right and a slide beyond that. In the fading light, I can also see what appears to be a zip line crossing over a portion where the water fingers inland.

If I close my eyes, I can imagine a bright, sunny summer day. The Landry faces are all smiling, their voices full of laughs, the water splashing as they swim and relax and enjoy the water. And each other.

“Hey,” Lincoln says, moving me so I’m in front of him. He peers into my eyes. “How are you? For real. This can be a little overwhelming.”

“It’s great, Landry. Honestly. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“The lake? The house? Never seen anything like what?”

I shrug. “All of it, I guess. Mostly your family though. They’re amazing.”

Pride washes over his face. “They are, huh?”

“It makes me want to hope for a house full of kids someday.”

His throat bobs as his fingers rewrap around my shoulders. “Maybe little Landry’s?”

“I . . .” I laugh, a defense mechanism as old as time. “Lincoln, I . . . Did you really just say that?”

“Too soon?” He plays it off, like it’s one of his usual ribbings, but it’s not. I see the anxiety hidden in the lines on his face. Things are about to get real.

“You love kids,” I say. “That’s why you donated the money to the hospital.”

His head cocks to the side. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me, Landry.”

“I’m not. I—”

My fingertip presses against the center of his smooth lips. “Don’t lie,” I whisper. “It was you.”

“How would you possibly know that?” he asks, his mouth moving against my finger. It sounds garbled and silly and, as I laugh, he nips it with his teeth.

“Because I know you,” I whisper.