Page 101 of Moth to a Flame

Whoever’s out there with Landon serves as a reminder that I shouldn’t have been.

While still waving at me, still comforting me, Landon heads toward the car. He opens the driver’s door and slides into his seat.

“It’s Vince.” His hands are on my cheeks, and he kisses me hard on the lips. “You up for some company? I told him he could come over for dinner if you’re okay with it. Otherwise, it’s a hard no.”

My pulse slows. The sweat on my forehead cools. He’s here. He’s alive.

Mine.

“Regan?” His firm voice laces into my thoughts. My vision sharpens as I’m no longer panicking. “It’s your choice.”

My choice.

Heat spreads through my body, searing me from head to toe. “You don’t have to ask me about having someone over. It’s your home.”

“Our home. Ours. Together.” I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his intensity.

We’ve talked about meeting Vince and Beverly after the parole hearing. But since Vince is already here, I’d be happy to have him join us. Landon has injected himself into many parts of my life. I’m dying to learn more about him.

“Thank you for asking. I’d love to meet him.”

“You’re sure?” His chin dips. “I could tell him to fuck off.”

I laugh, shaking my head. Landon smirks, blinks his lights twice, signaling Vince he can join us, I guess, and we head inside.

At home, after we get the introductions out of the way, we settle in the kitchen.

“I’m not staying long.” Vince fixes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

He’s exactly everything I thought he would be. Landon showed me his and Beverly’s photos on his phone when I insisted onputting faces to the names. The only two he had saved for their contacts.

Since Landon hadn’t elaborated much onwhothey are as people, I filled the blanks myself. He called Vince his best friend. Made him his chief financial officer.

It’s why I imagined he had to be tough. Someone who’d be able to withstand the storm that is Landon. The responsibilities of the job.

Vince is exactly it. His answers are clipped. He stands tall. He’s fond of the word motherfucker, especially when directed at Landon.

In some ways, he reminds me of my sister. I think she’d really like him.

Soon, in the near future, they’ll have to meet.

“So you’re not joining us for dinner?” Landon peeks from behind the fridge door.

“No.” Vince sneaks looks at me, assessing me. It’s not unpleasant; it reminds me a lot of a doctor’s inspection.

I turn my gaze to Landon. I’m drawn to him, always, blushing at his heated glare.

“Guess it’ll just be you and me, love. I’ll never complain about that.”

If possible, I blush harder.

“Since you asked, I already grabbed something at the office.” Vince undoes the buttons of his dark green suit and sits on one of the stools around the kitchen island. “Where no one’s seen you for days.”

The vegetables are placed on the counter first. Cucumber, tomatoes, carrots, lettuce.

Landon pulls out nuts and olive oil from the cupboards, then reaches for a large mixing bowl from one of the drawers.

He’s quiet.

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