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His small fingers pick at his toast. “No.”
“No? You’re wearing those,” I reply and point to his clothing.
“She bought them.” He nods toward Kim. Then he whispers, “Don’t tell her I hate them; she’ll cry.”
I laugh. Smith is five going on twenty.
“I won’t,” 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 “effort” he’s making to help me out.
“Well, what was so urgent that I had to come here in the freezing rain?” he asks, half smug, half concerned. Looking at my bare chest, he adds, “You know, the thing that I actually put clothes on for and ran over to help out with. So what is it?”
I wave toward Richard, who’s spread out on the couch, asleep. “Him.”
Landon leans to one side to look around me. “Who is that?” he asks. Then, straightening, he looks at me with a gaping mouth. “Wait . . . Is that Tessa’s father?”
I roll my eyes at his question. “No, it’s another random, homeless fuck that I let sleep on my couch. It’s what all the hipsters are doing nowadays.”
He ignores my sarcasm. “Why is he here? Does Tessa know?”
“Yes, she knows. However, she doesn’t know that he’s been going through withdrawal for the last five days and vomiting all over the damn place.”
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 stepbrother’s league. “Withdrawal?” he asks. “From, like, drugs?”
“Yes. And alcohol.”
He seems to ponder this for a second. “He hasn’t found your liquor yet?” he asks, then raises a brow at me. “Or has he already consumed it?”
“I don’t have any liquor here anymore, dick.”
He peers back around the corner to the sleeping man perched on my couch. “I still don’t see how I fit into this.”
“You’re going to babysit him,” I inform him, and he immediately takes a step back.
“No way!” He tries to whisper, but his voice comes out much more like a hushed scream.
“Chill.” I pat his shoulder. “It’s only for one night.”
“No way. I’m not staying here with him. I don’t even know him!”
“Neither do I,” I counter.
“You know him better than I do; he would be your father-in-law someday if you weren’t such an idiot.” Landon’s words hit me harder than they should. Father-in-law? The title sounds odd when I repeat it in my mind . . . while I’m staring at this gross lump of man on my couch.
“I want to see her,” I plead.
“Who . . . Tess?”
“Yes, Tes-sa,” I correct him. “Who else?”
Landon starts playing with his fingers like a nervous child. “Well, why can’t she come here? I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay with him.”
“Don’t be such a pussy, he’s not dangerous or anything,” I say. “Just make sure he doesn’t leave the apartment. There’s plenty of food and water here.”
“You sound like you’re talking about a dog . . .” Landon remarks.
I rub my temples in annoyance. “Dude might as well be at this point. Are you going to help me or not?”
He glares at me, and I add, “For Tessa?” It’s a low blow, but I know it will work.
After a second he breaks, and nods. “One night only,” he agrees, and I turn away from him to hide my smile.
I don’t know how Tessa will react to me ignoring our “space” agreement, but it’s 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.
“Does she know you’re coming?” 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.
“She will once I arrive, won’t she?”
“She told me about you two on the phone.”
She did? That’s really unlike her.
“Why would she tell you about us getting off over the phone . . . ?” I wonder.
Landon’s eyes go wide. “Whoa! What! What! I wasn’t . . . Oh God,” he groans. He tries to cover his ears, but it’s too late. His cheeks turn a deep red, and my laughter fills the bedroom.
“You have to be more specific when you’re talking about Tessa and me, don’t you know that by now?” I grin, relishing the memory of her moans coming through the line.
“Apparently I do.” He scowls and regroups. “I meant that you two have been talking a lot on the phone.”
“And . . . ?”
“Does she seem happy to you?”
My smile disappears. “Why do you ask?”
Worry spreads over his features. “I’m just wondering. I’m a little worried about her. She doesn’t seem as excited and happy about Seattle as I assumed she’d be.”
“I don’t know.” I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “She doesn’t sound happy, it’s true, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m an asshole or because she doesn’t like Seattle as much as she thought she would,” I answer truthfully.
