Page 72 of Finding Lord Landry

There was a long pause over the phone. “I was talking about Zane. He’s been trying to call you back for two hours.”

I glanced down at the phone and watched as sweat drops slipped off my nose, splashing on the glass.

There were three missed calls from Zane, two from Bash, and a text from Silas warning me to callor I will track you down.

I tossed the phone onto the bathroom counter before peeling my soaked running shirt off, careful not to dislodge my earbuds. “I was in a meeting, then I went for a run, and you know my workout app shuts off my messages. Listen… I’m sorry. I know I’m handling all this poorly. I should have called you and told you about… well, everything… and not let you find out through the fucking paparazzi headlines. I get it. I’m an asshole. I’m just… dealing with a lot of shit right now.”

Silas’s voice softened the barest amount. “It sounds like it. But you need to know we’re not about to let you go without a fight.”

“Go?” I asked, feeling a sudden and catastrophic cavern open up in my chest. “Go?”

“If you think you can just flip a switch and suddenly be this Everett Davencourt earl-type guy and forget everyone who cares about you back home, you can just?—”

The dam cracked, and so did my voice. “Are you fucking kidding? You four—the Brotherhood—and Kenji, you’re… you’re myfamily,” I said, feeling saliva pool in my mouth as my jaw tensed and my throat thickened. “You’re the only fucking people who know me for who I truly am. I’m not going anywhere. I can’t. I need you. Do you have any idea how much I need you? I’m fucking dying here, Silas. Jesus.”

“Hey, hey. Okay. Okay. We’re here. That’s… fuck, that’s what I was saying. You can’t get rid of us that easily. We can be there by morning.”

“No,” I said quickly. “No, please don’t. I can’t… it’s too much right now, alright? I can’t add a pack of feral billionaires to this shitshow. Please just… just give me some time. I need some time.”

Silence settled over the line as I reached for a tissue from a nearby box and swiped at my face. Thankfully, the overwhelming tide of emotion went dutifully back into its battered steel box.

“Okay,” Silas said. “But you need to call Zane and tell him you didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I didn’t!”

“I know.” He sighed. “Zane knows it, too. Just… call him. It’s important.”

He was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier to dial Zane’s number. Zane was the gentlest of my brothers, which made me feel that much guiltier. How could I apologize for such a huge lie of omission?

I took out my earbuds, put the phone on speaker and set it on the vanity, then perched on the edge of the tub. The cast iron was cold and solid through my damp running tights, but my stomach tumbled in free fall. Fortunately, Zane answered on the first ring.

“Thank fuck,” he blurted, sounding relieved. “Landry, I’m sorry.”

My palms slipped against the edge of the tub. “You… pardon?”

“I’m sorry.” The voice that had sold a bajillion albums sounded hoarse and congested, like he’d been crying. “I should never have ended the conversation with you the way I did. I was pissed off, but I just kept thinking what if something happened to you and that was the last thing I’d ever said, and?—”

“Zane.” My own voice came out cracked. The steel box of my emotions was showing serious wear and tear.Fuck. “I’m the one who should be apologizing toyou, okay? I should have told all of you the truth before you read about it online.” I blew out a breath. “I should have told you a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked in a small voice. “I… I thought about it a lot after we got off the phone. I realized you never told us shit about your past. You never lied, at least, not that I can remember. And maybe we were the ones who jumped to all the conclusions?—”

“Yeah, and I didn’t correct you,’’ I admitted. “I didn’t know how.”

I took a deep breath and stood to pace. “In the beginning, I was so scared of being found out, I tried to be as different from Everett Davencourt as possible so no one would guess the truth. So I let myself become Landry Davis—a guy who said what he thought without worrying that it would reflect badly on his family, and didn’t hide that he was smart, and didn’t only get invited to parties because some kid’s dad wanted a favor from the earl. And it turned out, being Landry—being judged for who I was and not where I came from—was really fucking amazing.”

“I get that,” Zane said. “Not wanting to be judged by where you came from. Pretending things are fine when they’re not.”

“I know you do.” I leaned on the countertop with my eyes closed, but tears still burned behind my lids. “That’s why I liked you so much from the very beginning. We come from polar opposite places, but we’re the same that way.”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“And the friendships I found with you and the other guys… I’d never had that before. I’d been an awkward, spotty kid who’d grown up under a spotlight. I’d learned to pretend I was fine and keep everyone at a distance so they couldn’t see the lie for what it was. Then suddenly, I was drinking Scotch on a snowy winter’s day with these four amazing guys who thought I was funny and cool?—”

Zane let out a watery chuckle. “Eh. Debatable.”

“What? Please,” I scoffed, trying not to laugh myself. “You were in awe of my cool.”

He laughed harder. “Pretty sure no one who’s actually cool uses the phrase ‘in awe of my?—’”

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