Page 66 of Forgiving Fate

Allie

“I’ll set this onthe counter if you want to go sit down and start a movie,” Landon says before heading to the kitchen island to set down the bags of food we picked up from the diner that was somehow open on Christmas Day.

The weight of today overcomes me, and I nod and head to the couch. Tapping the button on the remote, I watch as the curtains open on the floor to ceiling windows. Even though it’s dark, the heavy snow falls, and it almost feels like I’m inside a snow globe.

Today has been absolutely exhausting and the worst part is that my mind isn’t on the fact that I officially know what rock bottom feels like. It’s the fact that I finally pieced together what demons Landon has been fighting. And it hurts that I can’t do anything to stop his pain. Landon sits for hours while I try to silence the voices of my past screaming in my head, all while he fights the urge to not do the one thing that could kill him other than himself.

Now, I may be jumping to conclusions but as I sat in the doctors trying to think of anything other than the fact that I was sitting there with cuts so extensive that I had to have thirtystitches on a one and a half inch cut all I could think about was Landon and what may be going on inside his mind.

I had to think of anything other than me not doing it on purpose. I didn’t do it to feel something other than the gut wrenching pain that makes my mind spiral. Because that isn’t me. Allie Evans does not do that. Allie Evans is a nurse to little humans and patches up their booboos. She doesn’t fall so deep into her grief that she ends up in the chair of a doctor in a random mountain town while he looks at her with sympathy and tries to judge if she needs a psych evaluation.

No. I definitely didn’t think of that. I instead focused on placing all the puzzle pieces together from the last five months to see if my thoughts about Landon were true. And in my heart, I know I am right. The man fights day in and day out to save people from men and women that can’t take no for an answer. And it is up to him to find them.

He hasn’t explained much about what he does, but from the little I’ve gathered over the past few months, it seems like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders. And anyone with that kind of pressure is going to have a breaking point or an Achilles heel. I really hope I’m wrong because alcoholism is something few people can survive, but even if I’m not, I feel like crap that I am not strong enough to help him through it.

I wish I could help him like a friend should, but I just can’t. And today proves exactly why I am not strong enough to do so. One bad trip down memory lane, and my mind wanders to places so dark I can’t see the road in front of me. And I hate myself for letting myself go down that path.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Landon sorts through the array of food from the diner. I had told him I wasn’t that hungry, but he insisted that I have a nice home-cooked Christmas meal.

A gray Carhart beanie hides his trimmed hair, and he has tied his green and red flannel around his waist, leaving him in a long sleeve black shirt that he has pushed up his forearms.

I watch his hands shake slightly as he dishes the food onto plates and when his head suddenly pops up and catches me staring, his face isn’t full of concern like it normally is. He flashes me a smile and tilts his head towards me with an eyebrow slightly raised, and I immediately know what he is asking.

I nod, signaling that I am okay and go back to watching the heavy snow fall outside.

Jeez. The doc wasn’t kidding. This storm is absolutely no joking matter.

Movement at my side catches my attention and I turn to see Landon standing next to the chair, holding a plate of food full of the perfect Christmas dinner. The smell coming off the gravy flowing over the mashed potatoes onto the chicken fills my nose, and my stomach growls loudly.

A smile spreads across Landon’s face and he places a pillow in my lap, then hands me the plate. My stomach rumbles again as the steam from the collard greens and corn billows off the plate.

Looking back up at Landon, I flash him a smile. “Thank you. I guess I didn’t realize I was this hungry.”

Landon smiles and makes his way back to the kitchen, only to return a few moments later as I am taking a big bite of mashed potatoes. He has a Dr. Pepper in one hand and an ice pack in the other.

Walking around to the other side of the chair, he sets the Dr. Pepper into the cup holder then points to my hand, “Can I?”

I nod. My gaze is transfixed him as he raises the sleeve of my sweater slightly and places the ice pack against my bandaged hand and wrist. He then gently slides the sleeve of my sweater back down over the ice pack before resting it on the arm of the chair. Not meeting my eyes, he stands and walks over to thebasket full of blankets and returns with one, again not meeting my gaze.

He lifts the pillow with my food and lays the blanket over my lap and places the pillow back down, again not meeting my gaze. My spine straightens and I can feel something is off. And it’s confirmed seconds later when he starts picking up the already clean house.

I sit in silence as he darts through the house, almost like he’s in fast forward mode. He darts to the kitchen, grabs a napkin, and is in front of me in seconds. His eyes are downcast as he says, “You have something on your mouth.” He sounds as if he isn’t even here, and a puppet inside his mind is controlling his actions.

Reaching out, I take it and our fingers brush. His head pops up and his gaze finally meets mine. Beneath his eyes, the skin is turning a deep shade of purple and his normally blue eyes are almost gray. It’s like his face is trying to tell the story of what is happening inside, which can only be compared to a raging storm causing waves of destruction and pain.

“Landon?” My voice is low, almost a whisper.

His eyes remain on where our hands just were and I know he’s lost deeply inside his mind. So I do the only thing that I can think to do, even though I still feel a slight hesitation ever since…him. Reaching out, I brush my pinky against his. Landon’s head snaps up and I feel his hands shaking.

“Lan. Please go sit down,” I ask softly.

Landon ignores me as his hands shake more. Not knowing any other way, I loop my pinky with his and squeeze. His chest starts to rise and fall rapidly, and I squeeze tighter.

“Landon.” This time my voice is louder and more stern. His heads snaps to me and I can see tears welling in his eyes.

Fuck.

My heart breaks and I don’t know what to do. My mind is so fucking numb from everything and seems to have forgotten how to give someone a meaningful and emotional response. But I want to. I feel like I need to.

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