Landon waved his hand in a shooing motion, but his gaze pinned me in place. “Because?”
My weight shifted between my feet. “Well, if I’m totally honest it’s because—”
“Seriously,” Noah shouted. “Mom made popcorn and the previews are almost finished. If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss the opening scene.”
Landon growled before grabbing my hand. “This conversation isn’t over.”
If I didn’t know any better, I would have said his eyes smoldered right then.
Smolder—to burn slowly with smoke but no flame.
Hmmm…that’s not quite right. I really, really want there to be a flame. If only he’d look at me again, I could reassess. Maybe assign a more fitting synonym. One that included heat.
For myself, I knew there was a blaze going on under my skin that would soon turn into an uncontrollable wildfire if the man holding the door open for me were to kiss me again. As it was, he picked up my hand in his large, calloused palm, the roughness not what a person would expect from a computer geek. But then, Landon Novak was everything unexpected. He was my one-in-a-million. That is, if, once this pointless movie finished and I could get him alone again to explain my feelings, he felt the same way. Then we’d beat those odds everyone scoffed at. Lightning would have struck me twice, but instead of killing me, the second time restarted my heart. Lightning, in this case, being me falling for a guy.
“Aw, now, why’d they have to go and put something like that in the film?” Ken raised his hand at the television in disgust. It reminded me of my dad when he watched Seahawks games and the ref made a bad call.
Obviously I hadn’t been paying attention. Again. Man, I really needed to break that tendency. Because I had no idea what had the even-keeled man a little riled.
Annie patted his knee in silent communication, and Noah eyed me warily. Which was weird. Then Claire shook her head at me. Okay, weirder.
I focused on the scene playing out on the flatscreen. Two dudes on a baseball field. One reached out and—oh. Oh!
The screen turned black right before the remote landed on the coffee table. The sound was like a clap of thunder and I jumped. Landon squeezed my hand, and I glanced over at him. His jaw tensed, and the muscles of his forearm corded under the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel shirt.
Our eyes connected for a split second, but that was long enough. I knew he knew. Which was…I don’t know. I guess it was fine. I mean, I didn’t parade my divorce around and all the particulars surrounding it, but I didn’t bury my past away in a closet of shame either. The things we experience mold us into who we are. Why should I hide?
But the only way he could know was if Carol had told him. My stomach turned at that thought. I really, really hated being talked about behind my back. The side-eye looks. The whispers. I could live without those, thank you very much. And I thought Carol was my friend. Why would she have been talking about me to Landon?
“It’s bad enough that the sanctity of marriage is no longer held as a moral standard in our country, but do they really have to parade their lifestyle around?”
“Dad,” Noah warned in a low voice.
“I mean, God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. Do people not remember Sodom and Gomorrah?”
I could feel the color draining from my cheeks. Not sure why. Wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. Solidified why I’d chosen the home healthcare plan for my spiritual life, though.
The pressure on my hand increased.
Ken let his head fall back. “Sorry. That was—”
“Uncalled for? Hypocritical? Self-righteous? You bet your bottom dollar it was.” Landon let go of my hand and stood, glaring at Ken. “You remember a little thing called free will? Or how about this one: ‘For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.’ I can speak plainer Mr. Televangelist. Romans 3:10. ‘There is no one righteous, not even one.’ Or have you forgotten to take the plank out of your own eye first?”
Ken blinked slowly, his mouth hanging open.
Landon’s nostrils flared. “John 13:34. ‘Love each other as I have loved you.’ Ephesians 4:2. 1 Corinthians 16:14. 1 Peter 4:8. Or have you forgotten those passages in the Bible?”
“No,” Ken said gently, like he was talking to a spooked horse or something. And the way Landon was pacing about, steam might as well have been coming out of his ears. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“Could have fooled me. Could have fooled your whole family.” His arm arced across the room, stopping at Noah. “Your own son was so worried about your narrow-mindedness and judgmental tendencies that he and Claire concocted a whole plan just so you’d think she was worthy to become a part of your family. As if a sweet, loving woman wouldn’t meet your standards. Well, newsflash. Ashleigh and I aren’t married. She’s divorced and her ex-husband is gay, but that would have been unacceptable to the perfect Ken Abrams, so I’ve been pretending to be her husband this whole time.”
Where’s my cloak of invisibility when I need one?
I wilted against the sofa, daring a peek at my sweet sister. Her face registered shock—honestly, I’m pretty sure we were all wearing that same expression—and she clung to Noah’s hand.
“I can’t do it anymore.” Landon turned to me, shoulders sagging as fight left his body, his green eyes full of apology. “I can’t keep pretending.” He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his keys, facing Ken. “I just have one more thing to say.”
There’s more? I didn’t think I could endure any further humiliation.
“Before you go passing judgement on everyone else…” Landon’s voice had lost the bite and volume of before. Now, he spoke with cold calm, eery in its pronouncement. Like a head juryman delivering the verdict on a convicted felon. “Take a look in your own backyard. Do you remember a young girl named Emma Stevens from your congregation? Or perhaps one of your associate pastors, Alex Krinkowski?”
Awareness dawned on Ken’s face.
“Protect your lambs from wolves in sheep’s clothing.” Landon strode to the door but paused before he got halfway there. He turned his head but didn’t look at any of us. “You’ll get her home safe?”
“Of course,” Noah assured.
His body pivoted just an inch. Enough for our gazes to connect. This time there wasn’t even smoke to cloud his eyes. Whatever heat had been there earlier had been doused, trampled, and utterly blown away.
