Page 59 of Bourbon & Bonfires

My reality is obvious—sleep is not happening. My mind is spinning with the what ifs of what I’m going to face this morning. Dan is here, in Lexington. His appearance isn’t what has me on edge, it’s the disruption of my bubble of happiness. He’s a soul-sucker and has the ability to make demands that are followed up with promises. I don’t want Mason distracted by the shiny offerings his father makes, offerings I know won’t have follow-through.

I should talk to Landon about this. I should tell him Dan is here. He told me weeks ago I wasn’t alone. I have people, I have someone who cares about me and cares about Mason. But this is my problem, my baggage, not his. He has his own life and his own responsibilities; my ex-husband isn’t one of them.

Like he can sense my discomfort and frustration, his arm tightens around me. Slowly I turn around so I’m now facing him, his arm loosely settled across my hip. I’ve never been one to sleep naked, and the nights we’ve spent together at my house, I make sure he’s at least in boxers and I have on a T-shirt and panties. But, lying here together with no one to catch us, the touch of his skin on mine sets my heart aflutter.

The darkness of the room doesn’t allow me to see every line of his face, but here, in the moonlight, I see what is important to me. The kindness, the sincerity, the unspoken love of a man who deserves more than I have to offer. I want the world for this man. A man who selflessly cares for me, for my son, for everyone in his life. He gives and asks of nothing in return. Landon is beyond my wildest dreams. More than I deserve.

I don’t know why the thought of that makes me cry, but it does. Silently the tears fall, and I watch him as he sleeps, eventually also succumbing to the sandman.

“Babe, I need to talk to you about something.” Landon is sitting on the edge of the bed, his hair mussed, wearing only a pair of sweats as he looks at the ground. I’m on all fours, looking under the bed for my bra so I can get home and shower before I have to meet Dan but stop from the hunt to look at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, I hate this. I want us to be honest with each other. Can you come up here off the ground?”

“I need to find my bra. I have to get home and ...” I don’t finish my sentence because out of the corner of my eye I see my red lacy bra flung across the dresser. Huh. I walk over to the dresser and grab my bra, quickly putting it on and pulling Landon’s T-shirt back on over my head. I’m not going to do a complete walk of shame when I get home. “Okay, what’s wrong?” I sit down where he’s tapping the bed, trying not to show my impatience, but this is not the time for a heart to heart.

Sometime around dawn, I realized my agony over Dan’s visit was giving him power, and I did not love that epiphany. At all. So, I’ve made a commitment to myself. I will not let Dan bully me or make empty promises. I’ll listen to what he has to say, but I’m giving him two options moving forward—be a father or leave us alone. I’m a little conflicted as to which I’d prefer.

“I’ve kept something from you, and it’s fucking killing me.”

Tilting my head in confusion, I look at our now joined hands as Landon takes another deep breath before spewing out his confession like it’s Sunday mass.

“When you were at Henry’s funeral, Mason skipped school and broke into Spencer Garrison’s house. He was there with some shithead older kids, who by the way he is never allowed to hang out with again, and they left him. The alarm tripped, and when the cops got there, they took him in. He called me, and we agreed not to tell you since Spencer didn’t press charges. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t want to keep things from you, especially about Mason. I just ... fuck, I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

He lets go of my hand and begins to rise, but I stop him by reaching for his hand. Tugging him back to the bed, I push on his chest to lay him down. When he does, I climb up onto his lap, straddling him.

With his eyes wide, I smile and then say, “I know.”

“What?”

“Mason is a horrible secret keeper. He spilled his guts the next morning. Called me at work, sick to his stomach. I went to the school to get him, assuming he was sick from all the pizza you two ate while I was gone. He wasn’t. Guilt was his illness. When he told me what happened, I won’t lie, I was livid. Beyond on livid. I didn’t want to speak to you. I didn’t want to see you. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to move on from this sort of betrayal.”

Landon doesn’t respond, but I can feel his heart racing under my palms as I brace myself on his chest before I continue. “Not only was I angry, I was hurt. I know, I’ve been the one slowing us down, and I wonder if that’s because I was waiting for something like this to happen. For you to hurt me in a way I may not be able to come back from.” When he begins to rise, I shake my head slightly and he lies back, his hands on my hips.

“Then I realized you weren’t trying to hurt me. You weren’t keeping this secretfromme, you were keeping itforMason. You are the one he called. You’re the one he trusted. I don’t think you’ll ever understand what that means to me. You’ve been there for him when you don’t have to. He isn’t your problem,” I sniffle as a tear falls.

“I’m not your problem. I come with so much baggage and you just give and give, never asking in return. Why do you do that, Landon? Why are you so good and never want for anything?”

Sitting up, he cups my cheeks with both hands. Looking deep in my eyes, he smirks before replying. “Because I love you, Addison.” I gasp. He kisses me. “I do. I know it’s fast, and you have this notion we can’t last, that I’m supposed to be doing something else with my life. But, you’re wrong. You are everything I never knew was possible.”

“I ... have to go. I have to go.”

Sliding off my perch, I grab my shoes and scurry out of the bedroom and down the hall to the front door when I realize I didn’t drive. I don’t have a car. Shit. I’m standing at the door, my back to the hallway when I hear Landon behind me, his keys rattling.

“Addy, talk to me.”

“You can’t love me.”

“I can, and I do.”

“How? Why? You shouldn’t.”

“Hey,” he says, turning me toward him, “I don’t expect you to return the sentiment. I know where your heart is and you’re conflicted. If it’s the age difference you’re still hung up on, don’t be. If it’s because of Mason, I think we’ve already determined he’s okay with us being together. Just let it sit for a while. Come on, I’ll take you home, so you can do whatever it is that has you so distracted.”

“I have—” I begin before he shushes me.

“It’s okay, babe. You do what you need to do. Let’s go.”

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