His small fingers pick at his toast. âNo.â
âNo? Youâre wearing those,â I reply and point to his clothing.
âShe bought them.â He nods toward Kim. Then he whispers, âDonât tell her I hate them; sheâll cry.â
I laugh. Smith is five going on twenty.
âI wonât,â I promise him, and we finish the meal in comfortable silence.
Chapter eighty-five
HARDIN
Landon shakes the moisture from his hat onto the floor and rests his closed umbrella against the wall in an exaggerated and theatrical way. He wants me to see what an âeffortâ heâs making to help me out.
âWell, what was so urgent that I had to come here in the freezing rain?â he asks, half smug, half concerned. Looking at my bare chest, he adds, âYou know, the thing that I actually put clothes on for and ran over to help out with. So what is it?â
I wave toward Richard, whoâs spread out on the couch, asleep. âHim.â
Landon leans to one side to look around me. âWho is that?â he asks. Then, straightening, he looks at me with a gaping mouth. âWait . . . Is that Tessaâs father?â
I roll my eyes at his question. âNo, itâs another random, homeless fuck that I let sleep on my couch. Itâs what all the hipsters are doing nowadays.â
He ignores my sarcasm. âWhy is he here? Does Tessa know?â
âYes, she knows. However, she doesnât know that heâs been going through withdrawal for the last five days and vomiting all over the damn place.â
Richard groans in his sleep, and I grab Landon by the sleeve of his plaid shirt and pull him into the hallway.
This is clearly a little out of my stepbrotherâs league. âWithdrawal?â he asks. âFrom, like, drugs?â
âYes. And alcohol.â
He seems to ponder this for a second. âHe hasnât found your liquor yet?â he asks, then raises a brow at me. âOr has he already consumed it?â
âI donât have any liquor here anymore, dick.â
He peers back around the corner to the sleeping man perched on my couch. âI still donât see how I fit into this.â
âYouâre going to babysit him,â I inform him, and he immediately takes a step back.
âNo way!â He tries to whisper, but his voice comes out much more like a hushed scream.
âChill.â I pat his shoulder. âItâs only for one night.â
âNo way. Iâm not staying here with him. I donât even know him!â
âNeither do I,â I counter.
âYou know him better than I do; he would be your father-in-law someday if you werenât such an idiot.â Landonâs words hit me harder than they should. Father-in-law? The title sounds odd when I repeat it in my mind . . . while Iâm staring at this gross lump of man on my couch.
âI want to see her,â I plead.
âWho . . . Tess?â
âYes, Tes-sa,â I correct him. âWho else?â
Landon starts playing with his fingers like a nervous child. âWell, why canât she come here? I donât think itâs a good idea for me to stay with him.â
âDonât be such a pussy, heâs not dangerous or anything,â I say. âJust make sure he doesnât leave the apartment. Thereâs plenty of food and water here.â
âYou sound like youâre talking about a dog . . .â Landon remarks.
I rub my temples in annoyance. âDude might as well be at this point. Are you going to help me or not?â
He glares at me, and I add, âFor Tessa?â Itâs a low blow, but I know it will work.
After a second he breaks, and nods. âOne night only,â he agrees, and I turn away from him to hide my smile.
I donât know how Tessa will react to me ignoring our âspaceâ agreement, but itâs only one night. One short night with her is what I need right now. I need her. Phone calls and text messages are sufficient enough during the week, but after that nightmare I had, I need to see her more than anything. I need to confirm the fact that her body holds no marks that were put on it by anyone other than myself.
âDoes she know youâre coming?â Landon asks me as he follows me into the bedroom, where I search the floor for a T-shirt to pull over my bare torso.
âShe will once I arrive, wonât she?â
âShe told me about you two on the phone.â
She did? Thatâs really unlike her.
âWhy would she tell you about us getting off over the phone . . . ?â I wonder.
Landonâs eyes go wide. âWhoa! What! What! I wasnât . . . Oh God,â he groans. He tries to cover his ears, but itâs too late. His cheeks turn a deep red, and my laughter fills the bedroom.
âYou have to be more specific when youâre talking about Tessa and me, donât you know that by now?â I grin, relishing the memory of her moans coming through the line.
âApparently I do.â He scowls and regroups. âI meant that you two have been talking a lot on the phone.â
âAnd . . . ?â
âDoes she seem happy to you?â
My smile disappears. âWhy do you ask?â
Worry spreads over his features. âIâm just wondering. Iâm a little worried about her. She doesnât seem as excited and happy about Seattle as I assumed sheâd be.â
âI donât know.â I rub my hand over the back of my neck. âShe doesnât sound happy, itâs true, but I canât tell if itâs because Iâm an asshole or because she doesnât like Seattle as much as she thought she would,â I answer truthfully.