Page 73 of Finding Lord Landry

“Shut it, Zane. I’m attempting emotion here, okay?”

“Poor Landry,” he teased. “Does it burn?”

“Ahem. As I was saying… suddenly, I was drinking Scotch with these three amazing guysand Zane?—”

He laughed again, and this time, it sounded like a melody.

“You guys taught me what friendship was supposed to be about,” I continued more seriously. “You taught me it was possible to have someone care about me without knowing who my family was. That it didn’t matter who my family was. Then you guys and Kenjibecamemy family. And for years, I’ve been terrified that if you found out the truth, you’d hate me for not telling you sooner, or you’d think differently of me, and I’d be alone again. So I…”

“Kept it a secret?” he said. “I get that, too. Landry, man, our whole Brotherhood has been keeping a secret for years. But you’re not supposed to keep them fromus, dumbass.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I figured that out.” I stretched my neck from side to side and finally opened my eyes. Late-afternoon sunlight I hadn’t even registered earlier shone through the window, and the room seemed brighter than it had before.

“You should know by now that we’d love you no matter where you came from, Landry,” Zane went on. “You’re a hard worker. And smart. And kind. And yes,cool. But those things probably came from somewhere. From someone. And that’s important, too.”

I stared at the old brass fitting on the window clasp, fashioned into the shape of an elephant long ago. They’d been a gift to one of my ancestors from a visiting Indian diplomat as a symbol of protection for our home, and every window in my suite had them. My hand knew the shape of them without looking, the way they retained winter’s chill even in summer. The metallic scent they left on my fingers. The cock-eyed stare of the one closest to my favorite spot in the window seat.

Important. Yes. My history was important. I’d spent years learning of its importance.

“Wasn’t your mom from Connecticut?” Zane asked. “You mentioned it once when we asked about your accent.”

I reached out to feel the elephant on the window latch. “Yes. Danbury. My grandfather was still alive when we were at Yale. I stayed with him one Christmas.”

“What was your mom like?”

It occurred to me I could finally speak more openly about my past with the Brotherhood, but old habits of holding personal details close to the vest were hard to break.

“She was amazing.”

“Tell me something specific. Do you have a memory of her doing something… oh, I don’t know… admirable?”

Why was he doing this? Weren’t there more interesting questions he could be asking me about everything? Hell, he hadn’t even asked me what was going on between me and Kenji.

“She loved birds,” I said, pulling an old memory out of the battered box in my mind. “Pet birds. We had a giant birdcage in the family room, and those fuckers never shut up. She would talk to them. Sing to them in hopes of getting them to sing back.”

“Birds. Well, that’s not my preference for pets, but if she wanted birds…”

“No, that’s just it. She never got them for herself. She never set out to have a bird as a pet. She heard about someone who needed to rehome a bird, and she couldn’t resist helping. ‘Temporarily.’” I let out a laugh, remembering her stammering explanation to my father and the way he smiled at her with exasperated affection. “Then someone else needed another bird rescue and so on and so forth until the cage took up half the room and our eardrums wanted to burst.”

I could hear the smile in Zane’s voice. “Does your father still keep them?”

The elephant’s chill had warmed under my touch. I traced a fingertip along the curve of its trunk before turning away. “No. They’ve all gone on to their sanctuary in the sky. And thank fuck because they really were a nuisance.”

“She sounds sweet,” he suggested.

“Yes. Unless it came to catching me with a hand in the biscuit tin after dinner. Or, god forbid, left the house without giving her a peck on the cheek. It didn’t matter if I was late and someone important was waiting.”

Zane let the air still between us for a beat. “She wanted to remind you what was important.”

“Family,” I murmured.

“Love,” he corrected gently. “Connection. Affection. People.”

I cleared my throat in hopes of dispelling the emotion there. “I hate you and all that you stand for, Zane Hendley.”

“I love you more than you can know. My lord.”

The call ended to the sound of his snickering.

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