Swink

by Adriana Locke

  “Nate.” I wait for him to look at me. When he does, his eyes about slaughter me. “Nothing that your dad did was your fault. And what happened that night was a terrible accident that neither of you wanted but happened anyway.”

  “He’s never been the same, Priss. There’s been a piece of Dominic that’s been a little untouchable since that gun went off. Like . . . it’s like something happened when that trigger was pulled that made him feel . . . less. Dirty. He’s carried that shit around ever since.” He makes sure I’m listening before continuing. “Only recently have I caught glimpses of the brother I used to know.”

  “Nate . . .”

  “It’s true. As much of a badass as he is, he’s been on this mental island since all that went down. But he’s starting to let you in.”

  Tears flood my eyes.

  “If you’re going to cry, we’re done here,” he jokes, standing up straight. “Where’s my kid?”

  “Follow me.” I wipe my cheeks dry with the back of my hand and lead Nate down the hallway. I prop the guest room door open.

  Nate and I stand in the doorway and watch Ryder curled up in a ball in the center of the bed, snoring softly. A juice box that we picked up at the grocery store is on the bedside table.

  “I’ve never slept that well in my entire life,” Nate whispers. “Just look at him.”

  “He’s a sweet boy.”

  “When I was that age, I’d put a chair in front of my door when I went to bed in case it was the night my father would come for me for my ass-whippin’.”

  My hand rests on his arm, tears coming back to my eyes again.

  “It never happened at night. But I never had a night where I didn’t fear it.”

  “I can’t imagine that. I hate you had to go through that.”

  “I don’t.” He looks down at me, his eyes a little greener than his brother’s. “It made me who I am. It made Dominic who he is too. Do I wonder what it feels like to be Ryder right now? Sure. But the fact that he’s not living like that is what’s important.”

  “You’re kind of philosophical,” I say, trying to break the moment.

  He chuckles quietly. “Sure.”

  “You know what? Why don’t you let Ryder just sleep here tonight? I’ll feed him some sugary breakfast and bring him home wound for sound in the morning.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know. But let’s let him sleep.”

  Nate searches my eyes, looking for something he must find because he eventually nods and pulls the door closed. As we make our way back down the hallway, he starts laughing.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing. Just thank you.”

  “For what?”

  He stops in the center of the foyer. “For taking care of Dom. Me. Ryder. Just promise me that even if Dom fucks this whole thing up, you won’t write off me and the kid.”

  I laugh and open the front door. “I have a feeling there’s not much your brother can do to fuck it up that bad.”

  “Call me if you need anything,” he says, stepping out on the porch. “And thanks again.”

  “Any time.”

  He does what Dom does—waits for me to lock the door before going to his truck. I head back to the sofa and curl up with my tea and a heart that’s fuller than I ever could’ve imagined.

  Dominic

  “SHE SHOULD BE HERE ANY time,” Nate says, rinsing off his plate. “She sent me a text a little bit ago and asked if he was allergic to strawberries. Does she overthink everything?”

  “Yes,” I laugh, tossing an almond in my mouth.

  “She’s a good girl, Dom. I just wish that brother of hers would stop being a dick.”

  “Graham?” I ask, sitting up.

  “Yeah. I asked her about it last night and could tell it really bothers her.”

  He keeps talking, but my head is out of the conversation. This issue has been gnawing at me since the night she came here crying. I go back and forth from wanting to slice his fucking throat to telling her to give in and call him—a very un-me kind of thing to do.

  I just hate knowing she’s thinking about it when she gazes into the distance or his name comes up in conversation. To know it’s my fault.

  “Are you working today?” he asks.

  “Nah, they cancelled my schedule today because I was tied up on that job all night last night.”

  “Got ya. I’m gonna grab a shower before Chrissy gets here to get Ry.” Nate takes off around the corner and leaves me alone with my thoughts.

  My phone is in front of me. I spin it around in a circle, my fingers sliding up and down the smooth glass.

  Do I or don’t I? That is the question.

  The sound of my foot tapping against the floor starts to bother me so I stand, grab the phone before I can stop myself, and hit call on the number I looked up earlier.

  As it rings, I pace. And as a cheery voice answers, “Landry Holdings,” the sound of her name is washed out by the tumble of white noise over my eardrums.

  “Is Graham Landry in?” I ask.

  “He is. May I ask who is calling, please?”

  “Dominic Hughes.”

  “One moment, please.”

  I look at the screen. How I’ve only been on here for forty-two seconds is beyond me. It feels like an eternity already.

  “This is Graham.” His voice is curt, cool, just as I expected it to be.

  “This is Dominic,” I say, “but your secretary probably told you that.”

  “She did. She’s efficient. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

  “Look, you don’t know me and I don’t know you. I’m sure we’ve both drawn conclusions based on what little information we have about the other. But that doesn’t seem fair.”

  “I don’t know,” he contends. “I’m pretty safe in my assumptions.”

  “I bet you are. I’m also pretty safe in mine.”

  “And what would those tell you, Dominic?”

  “That you care about your sister as much as I would care about mine, if I had one. But you took a well-placed concern and ran with it in the wrong direction and now your sister won’t talk to you.”

  “How is that any of your business?”

  “If she’s hurt, it’s my business.”

  The line trembles with the banter, each of us flexing our proverbial muscle through the line. I hear him breathing. I’m sure he can hear mine as I await his reply.

  “What do you want from her, Dominic?” he sighs. “Can you just wrap up whatever game you have going on and do it with someone else?”

  “Yeah, I could. If that’s what it was.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re in love with her,” he scoffs. “I don’t want to hear that.”

  “You don’t have to hear that. You didn’t have to take my call either, but you did. That tells me no matter how much of an asshole you are, how much you posture up right now, you know—you know this thing between your sister and I isn’t just going to go away. And while that probably scares the fuck out of you, it shouldn’t.”

  “You’re right,” he says, the sound of a chair squeaking in the background. “It does. I don’t know what your intentions are. The reports I’m getting aren’t stellar, if you know what I mean.”

  “That surprises me.”

  “That people are balking a little at you?”

  “Oh, no,” I laugh, “not that. I’m used to that. Lived it my whole life and I’d probably be a little disappointed if anyone just gave me a gold star. What surprises me is a man of your caliber putting that much stock in other people’s opinions. I know you didn’t get to where you are today—sitting in that big corner office overlooking downtown Savannah—by listening to everyone else.”

  The chair squeaks again. “Maybe I underestimated you.”

  “I guarantee you did. But just so we’re on the same page going forward, because there will be a forward, I don’t want her money. I don’t want her things. I would destroy anyone that hur
ts her, including Nolan if I ever see that piece of shit again. I want nothing from Cam, only that she’s happy. Right now she’s not . . . and that’s your fault.”

  He sighs, blowing out a breath.

  “Call her,” I demand. “You can hate me all you want; I really don’t give a fuck. But she’s your sister and she needs you as much as she needs me. Fix this. Soon.”

  I’m taken aback when he laughs. “You are not what I expected.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “I have a call coming in that I have to take, but this has been an eye-opening experience. Thanks for the call.”

  “No problem.”

  I slide the phone back on the table just as the doorbell rings. Taking the few steps from the table to the door, I can hear Ryder jabbering before I even get it open.

  “Dom!” he shouts, giving me a high-five as he races by me. “Where’s Daddy?”

  “The shower,” I laugh, watching him fly down the hallway. It’s then that I set my sights on her. “How are you?”

  She doesn’t answer with words, just a long, leisurely kiss.

  “That good, huh?” I say against her lips.

  She giggles, pulling back. “I missed you last night.”

  “I spent the night with two seventy-year-olds reminding me how much they were sweating every six-point-two seconds,” I groan. “It was not fun.”

  “It sounds horrible.”

  “So what are you doing today?” I ask, shutting the door.

  She wrinkles her nose. “I have the charity event at Picante. Remember?”

  “That’s right,” I say, although I didn’t remember it was tonight specifically. “Are you excited?”

  “I’d be more excited if you would come with me.”

  “I do make things fun.” Hearing her laugh behind me, I head into the kitchen. “How was Ryder last night?”

  “Fun,” she says like it amazes her. “We colored pictures of lizards and it’s safe to say I still have my coloring skills.”

  “Never know when you’ll need those,” I wink.

  Her cheeks blush as she looks down. “I’ve been thinking about getting with Mom and seeing about putting something together for small business owners. Something that would help them spruce up their storefronts or something. I think it would be fun and could really help people out.”

  “Really?”

  She nods, still not looking at me. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  I lift her chin with my fingertip. “I think whatever you want to do is a good idea. And, yes, I think you need to do something that makes you happy. Besides me.”

  “You make me happy.”

  “I hope so.”

  Our lips touch, sweetly at first, but as her hands scoot under the hem of my shirt and roam the ridges of my back, her lips part. I deepen the kiss, craving the taste of her.

  Lifting her, I sit her on the counter. Her legs wrap around my waist. “If you won’t go with me tonight, will you at least stay with me after?”

  “I want to say no just to get you going,” I say, kissing up the side of her neck, “but I can’t even pretend I don’t want you.”

  “Is that a yes?” she moans.

  “Uncle Dom,” Ryder says, coming from nowhere. “Are you kissing Cam?”

  My head drops to Cam’s shoulder as I move my hips so he doesn’t see the outline of my cock in my shorts.

  Cam giggles. “Ryder, if you were a superhero, you would totally be the invisible one.”

  “We’re gonna put a bell on ya, kid,” I mutter.

  Camilla swats at my shoulder as she jumps off the counter. “I need to go anyway. I have to run by the Farm and pick up my dress for tonight. They delivered it there rather than to my house for whatever reason.” She looks at me and cocks a brow. “Was that a yes?”

  “You know it was.”

  Blowing me a kiss, she heads to the door. “I’ll see you boys later. Behave.”

  The door closes and Ryder looks at me. “She’s the best.”

  “Yeah,” I smile. “She is, isn’t she?”

  Camilla

  “HELLO, CAMILLA.”

  “Oh!” I say, my hand falling on my chest. “I didn’t see you, Rose. You scared me.”

  The sweet lady smiles at me from behind the desk in the living room at the Farm. Her hair is piled in some chignon from decades gone by, her pearls shining in the late morning sunlight.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” she says.

  “Oh, I know. I didn’t realize Barrett was back in town.”

  “Yes,” Barrett’s personal secretary says. “We came in for the event this evening. Alison was not about to miss it.”

  It makes me proud that my sister-in-law, the pregnant wife of the Governor, for heaven’s sake, supports my function to this degree. “She’s awesome.”

  “I agree, Camilla. She’s made my job a whole lot easier.”

  “I bet she has,” I laugh. “So where are they?”

  “They took the golf cart down to the lake so Huxley can fish for a little bit. Alison didn’t feel like walking and Barrett wasn’t leaving her behind.”

  “I didn’t see their car.”

  “Troy took it to town to run a few errands and grab some lunch. Do you want something, dear? I could have him pick some up for you.”

  “No, thank you though. I just came for my dress. Have you seen it today?”

  “Yes, actually. It’s in the hall closet by the bathroom.”

  “Thanks, Rose!” I meander through the Farm, not going straight to the closet but stopping in the living room first. It’s quiet, unlike most times I’m here.

  The walls are sprinkled with pictures of us throughout the years. There are goofy pictures of Lincoln and Sienna at a car wash one summer and of me in my cheerleading outfit from high school. Those are mixed with images of Ford graduating from military school and Barrett taking the oath of office. It’s a wall of memories, one that makes me a little nostalgic.

  We’ve spent so many hours, days, years here together celebrating good times and convening for the bad ones. Tears from joy and sadness have been shed, screams for wonderful announcements and terrible declarations have been heard by these walls. No matter what, we’ve done it together. As a family.

  My heart twists in my chest, tears dotting my eyes, when I turn to see Graham and Lincoln watching me from the back porch. Turning away, I refuse to let Graham see me weak. But, in typical G fashion, he’s in the door and in front of me before I have a chance to flee.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, any traces of his recent venom gone.

  “Nothing,” I sniffle. “I was just thinking about all the things we’ve done in this room. Ford’s wedding, Barrett’s election celebration. Our sixteenth birthday party.”

  “I had fun that night!” Lincoln chimes in from the porch. “Taylor Thompson. Wowza.”

  Graham and I chuckle . . . until we look at each other. Our grins falter.

  “Look, Swink,” he says, clearing his throat. “I want to talk to you for a minute.”

  “We’ve been through this.”

  “Cam, I’m sorry.”

  Squinting, making sure it’s Graham I’m seeing in front of me and not Barrett, I shake my head. “What?”

  “Come on,” he chuckles. “Don’t make me say it again. It hurt enough the first time.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Shoving his hand in his pockets, he sighs. “I’m sorry for acting like a dick.”

  “Because . . .” I lead him on.

  “Because someone pointed out today that it’s really stupid to make judgements on people based on someone else’s opinion.”

  “That’s true. So what were you doing? Basing it off of Linc’s?”

  “Don’t throw me in this!” Lincoln shouts.

  “Will you butt out?” Graham shouts back. Shaking his head, he focuses on me once more. “I need to trust that
you know what you’re doing. You’ve never given me a reason to doubt your judgement—not really.”

  “Oh, give me one bad decision I’ve made.”

  He crooks a brow. “Ten grand ring a bell?”

  “That hasn’t been proved to be a bad decision. Just like the idea of you proposing to Mallory hasn’t been proven to be a bad one.” I crook a brow back. “Catch my drift?”

  “Don’t change the subject. You’re an adult and I need to give you the benefit of the doubt. Just be smart about things, Cam. Please. And if you need anything, whether you’re mad at me or not, call me.”

  His features soften and I feel my anger wane. “Thanks, G. But I think I’ll call Dom now. Maybe I’ve outgrown you.”

  “I wish Lincoln would,” he groans.

  “Not a chance!” our brother shouts from the porch again.

  Graham and I laugh before he pulls me into a hug and all is right in my world.

  Dominic

  “It’s busy in here tonight.” Joe stumbles through the door of The Gold Room and takes his usual seat on the end. He smells a little like urine and a lot like whiskey and I wonder which bar he hit up on the way here. “Do I got room on my tab for somethin’ to eat?”

  “I’ll check.” I head to the back, without checking his tab, and grab the hamburger I made for myself before we got busy. “Here you go,” I say, sliding the plate to him.

  He doesn’t say thank you, doesn’t acknowledge me in any way, just scoops up the sandwich with both hands and eats nearly half of it before I can look away.

  “Where’s Nate?” Billy calls from the other end.

  “He’ll be here in a second.”

  “Gotcha.”

  I lean on the bar and watch the television that hangs overhead. It’s covering the Landry Charity Gala at Picante. The anchor is talking about how charities get so much more attention, and money, when the Landry’s are attached to them.

  They have a mini-red carpet set up leading into the hotel lobby. Baseball players, a B-level movie star, and a few musicians have all been interviewed before they disappear through the doors.

  I’ve seen this before. It’s not unusual. The Landry’s are well-known for their charity work. But now that I know Camilla and know she’s there . . . it’s weird.