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I pursed my lips and nodded thoughtfully. “I see. You just walk around and talk like you’re tough, but when it comes down to doing something, you’re afraid of making waves.”
Landon’s features darkened. “No. I’m reluctant to sabotage a club I’ve devoted most of my life to build. Edward is a situation I’m aware of, and it’s one I’m monitoring. Closely.”
I walked to the edge of the bed and sat. “So, am I supposed to believe my grandfather really wanted me to learn the ins and outs of this place so I could take it over? Even though running it apparently sounds more like being a prison warden than a business manager?”
Landon shrugged. “I can’t say why he wanted you to be involved. Maybe he wanted you to have a chance to see what I do. He might have thought you’d decide to leave me in my position once you saw what running the club entailed.”
“Or maybe that’s the angle you’re pushing.”
Landon sat down on the edge of the bed. For the first time since I’d known him, he looked exhausted as he stared down at his hands. When he finally looked up at me, none of the usual iron was in his expression. He looked more human. More vulnerable.
“Andi,” he said. “About what you said in the hall. I’ve been as honest with you as I can be.”
I squinted. “That’s a lot of words that don’t really say much.”
Landon’s jaw flexed. “What I mean is I’m trying my best.”
“Take your time, if you’re keeping something from me, it’s like a wall. Maybe knocking it down will squish us, but keeping it up is sure as hell going to keep us apart.”
Landon chuckled. “You’re better at metaphors than me.”
“I’m better at jokes than you, too. Some might argue that means my intelligence is superior.”
“I wouldn’t disagree.”
We sat there in silence long enough for me to wonder if I was supposed to get up and leave. Maybe it would’ve been the smart thing to do. My brain knew to keep Landon at arm’s length, but every moment I spent with him was a war with my body, which had entirely different plans.
Instead of leaving, which is what I should’ve done, I spoke. “Trust is hard for me, I guess. I think I stopped trusting myself to care about anyone or anything new. I lost my mom, then my dad, and now my grandpa.” I tried to smile to soften the melodrama of saying it all out loud, but my lips quivered. I cleared my throat and put my hand to my lips, hopefully in a way that didn’t make it obvious I was trying to hide. “It doesn’t get easier,” I said a little shakily. “Losing people, you care about, I mean. So it feels like the only rational thing is to stop caring in the first place. The more you let yourself care, the more you wind up getting hurt in the end.”
Landon nodded. “I guess different paths can lead people to that same conclusion.”
I looked up. “Did you lose someone, too?” I asked. I didn’t think that was what he meant, but he seemed so reluctant to talk about what was on his mind. I knew I needed to prod him a little to get it out.
“Yes.” He looked at me for a long time, face scrunched like he was trying to bring himself to say something. Finally, he hung his head and shook it. “I lost him twice. Once when he gave up on us and once when he died. But the first time was the real death. The second time just meant whatever little hope of things getting better was gone for good.”
I waited for him to say more, but felt my stomach sink even with the little he was telling me. I hadn’t realized his father was dead, too. From the little he’d told me at the aquarium, I’d been able to piece together a slightly less incomplete puzzle. Still, my understanding of Landon and his past was full of holes.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. I reached out and took his hand in mine. It was rough, warm, and surprisingly hard.
“No, don’t be. I wasn’t trying to one-up you. I just wanted you to understand that I know where you’re coming from, even if it’s not for the same reasons. Trusting people is hard. It makes you vulnerable. And I know this probably doesn’t mean much, but you can trust me. Finish the list, and I’ll make sure you get your share of the hotel.”
I studied Landon, trying to see through to the boy he must’ve been growing up. I imagined how he had probably stalked the halls of his high school with a personality as sharp and deadly as a knife. I thought of the throngs of girls who must’ve been desperate to throw themselves on that edge, even if they knew the best they could hope for was a scar they’d be able to tell their friends about.
