Page 34 of Landon & Shay: Part One

There was a tiny corner in my heart I reserved for my father’s words. I didn’t let that corner expand too much, because I feared being let down by him. I worried about allowing my heart to break over the first man in my life who was supposed to heal my broken pieces, not create the cracks.

In that tiny corner of my heart, that was where I believed him. That was where I hoped for him. That was where I prayed. I hoped that tiny corner would never get smaller. I hoped someday, somehow, it would grow, making room for more of my father’s love.

“Now, come on,” he offered, leaning against my desk. “Let me hear this monologue of yours.”

If there was one thing my father did well, it was believe in me and my creative skills. That was the only thing I knew was one hundred percent true. His praise was so authentic when it left his lips.

I practiced my chosen dialogue for him for the remainder of the night. He gave me his input, critiquing my pauses and pace and facial expressions. He directed me. He made me laugh. He made me smile. He made me believe in myself, in my talents, in my soul. Then, he gave me his two-nod signal of approval.

And that tiny corner of my heart? It soared.

9

Landon

If there wasone person in the world I never wanted to be like when I grew up, it was my father. He was a coldhearted man, which probably helped him in a courtroom. He was driven by two things in life I didn’t care anything about: money and praise.

He was a criminal defense attorney and almost too good at his job. The number of criminals he’d gotten off was off-putting. Still, Dad never called them criminals; he called them men and women who were falsely accused.

Sometimes I thought he was so jaded he actually believed the lies he told himself, or maybe he told the lies to help him sleep better at night. I didn’t know how a mother like mine could’ve fallen for a man like him.

“You’re late,” Dad barked as I walked into RH Law Firm on Wednesday evening. I was ten minutes late, and he was already busting my ass about it.

“Only ten minutes,” I muttered. “There was traffic.”

“Ten minutes is still late. You’ll stay twenty minutes after to make up for it,” he huffed.

I wished I looked more like my mother, but I was a younger copy of father dearest. From his brunette hair to his crystal blue eyes, there was no way he could’ve ever denied being my father.

The resemblance was remarkable, except he wore thousand-dollar suits, and I wore some cheap tie he’d forced me to buy for the internship. I would’ve bought a clip-on if I could’ve found one. Dad would’ve had a heart attack about it, too.

After he scolded me about being late, I didn’t see him again the whole afternoon. He headed into his office and stayed there for the remainder of his night shift. It was like that every single time I came over to work at the firm. My father was a ghost, and I never even saw his shadows. That was okay with me, though. I was definitely a bigger fan of my mother.

She often texted me while I was at the firm, asking me how Dad was doing. Hell if I knew. My father hardly ever let anyone into his psyche. He had walls built so high, higher than mine, which was somewhat of a talent.

Working at the law firm was my least favorite way to keep my mind busy. Time moved slow there, and I felt as if I was on high alert whenever Dad’s secretary would go to his office and close the door behind him.

Her name was April, and she was nowhere near as beautiful as my mother.

I didn’t tell Mom about Dad’s activities, because I didn’t have any real proof that my father and April had ever done anything inappropriate, just my doubts about the kind of character my father possessed.

He seemed like the type who would cheat on his wife with his secretary.

Still, not enough evidence to ever tell Mom.

I finished up my pointless tasks at the office and headed out without saying goodbye to Dad. I doubted he even noticed or cared, but he did make sure his assistant stayed with me those extra twenty minutes.

Mom texted me a few times after I got home to check that things had gone okay at the firm. She knew I hated working there and told me I didn’t have to if I didn’t want to, but knowing my father, he’d come down hard on her if I quit. Mom already had a hard enough time with my father; she didn’t need me adding to her stress.

Mom:How was your father? Did he take you to dinner?

Me:Nope. Never does.

Mom:Was April working today?

Me:Yup.

Mom:Did she help your father a lot tonight? Did they seem close?

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