Ted shook his head. “She practiced and practiced those flips until she could do them. Had more chutzpah than anyone I’ve ever seen.”
“Still does,” Landon said, thinking about how she’d stood up to the senator the other day in his office. How she’d gotten under his own skin, even when he’d been so certain a girl like her would never have anything to do with a guy like him. “Wasn’t she kind of tall for a gymnast?”
Ted chuckled. “She found her niche with volleyball, that’s for sure.”
The picture faded and another one took its place. In it, a dark-haired boy held a tiny kitten in his arms.
“She told me about her brother.”
Ted’s gaze stayed on the picture, his face grim. “That’s why she does it, you know. Because of what happened after Tommy’s death.”
“Why she’s out to save the world?”
The life returned to Ted’s eyes. “You noticed, too, huh? She’s become more . . . focused, more determined since all that happened. But I guess I don’t have to tell you how a single event can change a life so much, huh?”
“No.” Landon looked again at the little boy in the picture. “You don’t.”
Ted motioned toward the kitchen with his head. “Must have been a surprise when she and her boss brought your mom’s case up again.”
“I had no idea it would ever happen.”
“So is Gina the ally?” Ted cocked an eyebrow. “Or the enemy?”
Landon took a deep breath. “I just want to find out the truth.” He wanted to know who’d murdered his mother. He wanted to know if his dad really had an alibi. He wanted to know what might happen between him and Gina once all this was over.
“Just remember—she’s been through tough times, too. She knows how hard this is for you. It took a lot to get her through what she’s been through.”
Landon’s chest ached. The family gathering, the soft clinking of dishes in the kitchen, the gentle laughter of Gina’s mother, the home-cooked meal, the man-to-man chat—it all reminded him of what he’d missed. Of what he’d longed for all his life. Of what he could have had with his own father if Martin had been a different man or if Landon had a different set of life circumstances.
Gina might have been through something tough. Through something horrific. But at least she’d had her family. She’d had someone to care for her. To guide her through it.
She’d had them. And he’d had no one.
Thirty minutes later, Landon followed Gina down the steps outside her apartment, hating himself for enjoying the way her butt looked in the little khaki shorts she’d put on when she changed out of her suit. He wondered how many other guys had joined her family for dinner over the years. How many had been important enough in her life to meet her parents.
How many she’d slept with. Why was he thinking about that? He didn’t want to think about her gorgeous thighs wrapped around some other guy’s hips. Some guy who didn’t deserve her, or he’d still be around.
“I don’t know anything about the DNA yet,” she said as they reached the bottom of the staircase. “I assume that’s why you came over?”
“I thought I owed you an apology.” God, this was harder to say than he thought it would be. “You tried to be there for me and I . . . was kind of an ass.”
One of her eyebrows quirked upward. “You think?”
“But I had dinner with your parents, so now we’re even.”
“You were a good sport in there, letting them rope you into staying.”
He’d actually had a good time listening the details of her father’s work, her mom’s real estate company, the goings-on of their small-town neighbors. They’d even asked about his life since football. They were people who laughed and hugged and teased. People who cared about each other.
People who made him feel like he belonged, even though he didn’t.
“It wasn’t so bad,” he said.
“You’re lucky you escaped before Daddy got too wound up talking football.”
“Football’s easy.” Other topics, he wasn’t so sure about. Had never been sure he knew how to act, how to joke, when to hug. “It’s the get-togethers with Mom and Dad that are scary.”
She laughed. “My parents aren’t scary.”
“They are when you don’t have a lot of experience with normal family life.”
“I’m not sure there is such a thing. And mine wouldn’t qualify even if there was.” A look of sadness crossed her face. “You lived with your aunt’s family,” she said. “Weren’t they normal?”
He leaned against the wall of the house and thought about how to answer. How to explain that he’d always felt like an outsider, brought there out of a sense of obligation when Mama was killed, but never quite fitting in. “Their entire lives revolved around their little girl, my cousin. Dance classes, cheerleader tryouts. They even took her to Orlando for some modeling work. They thought she was perfect . . . until the preacher’s son got her pregnant at sixteen.”
Gina’s eyebrows rose. “Puts a crimp in the modeling at least.”
“They shipped her off to some home for unwed mothers so nobody else would know.”
“I didn’t know they even had those anymore.”
“Wouldn’t even tell me why she was going away until I asked them point-blank the day she was leaving, like they were afraid I would tell someone their precious little angel had gotten knocked up.”
“Your cousin didn’t tell you?”
Landon shook his head. “I guess she was too ashamed. They’d raised her to be their little princess and”—he thought about it for a second—“she fell off the throne.”
“Surely they were proud of you.” She stood in front of him, close enough for him to reach out and touch.
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
As badly as he wanted to.
“You played football for a Division I school,” she said.
His laugh sounded bitter, even to him. “They were happy college was paid for.”
“Well, my parents loved you. You can borrow them any time you want.”
Okay, so “loved him” was a figure of speech. They’d only known him a couple of hours, but already he felt more comfortable here than he’d felt in most places throughout his life. The bittersweet feeling socked him in the gut—made him long for the family he hadn’t had since Mama had died.
Would he have grown up a different person, given a family like Gina’s? Would he have her confidence? Her insistence that she could change the world? Her parents seemed relatively well-off, but they had a richness that had nothing to do with money—a quiet grace that showed they knew their value in the world. A concept that had always escaped him.
“Must be nice to know”—Landon couldn’t believe he was saying this out loud, especially to her; not something this close to his heart—“that they’d drop what they were doing and come take care of you if you were in trouble somehow.” He’d never had that security. And he wasn’t even sure he could understand it completely.
She cocked her head to one side. “Wouldn’t Calvin do that for you?”
Landon shrugged. He’d mentioned Calvin to her a couple of times the other day.
She ran her hand down his arm. He liked that she did that sometimes. That she felt like she could. “A family doesn’t have to mean a dad and a mom and the kids. Sometimes it’s a neighbor or a teacher.” She cocked her head to look him straight in the eye. “Or a coach.”
Of course she was right. He was lucky to have Calvin. And somehow he felt lucky to know her, though he still hadn’t figured out why. The only certainty was that she would be the woman who breezed in and out of Tallahassee one summer, changing him forever. He wanted to change the subject. Wanted to stop thinking about the fact that he’d never had a real family.
“You visited the prison today,” he
said.
She nodded slowly, as if switching gears from the friendly chatter to the reason for the chasm between them. “We did.”
“No news at all on the DNA?”
She shook her head. “I know it’s hard.” The grief in her eyes told him she really did understand.
“Seems like a waste of time to visit him when you’ll know in a day or two whether he really did it or not.” The waiting must be even worse for Cyrus Alexander.
“We’ve still got work to do.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
She gave him a you-know-better-than-to-ask-that look. “I can’t tell you about meetings with our clients.”
“That’s right. Attorney-client privilege.” Landon would be a happy man if he never heard that phrase again in his lifetime.
“I can tell you that Cyrus has a son.”
His head whipped up. “What?”
“A sophomore in high school.”
He didn’t want to believe it. “The math doesn’t work. He’s been in prison for fifteen years and—”
Her steady gaze caught his. “Tim was born just before the sentencing. Days before. Cyrus has missed the kid’s entire life.”
Landon felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He might have done that to the kid. And if Cyrus was innocent . . . God, this made a wrongful conviction so much worse. “How long have you known this?” He pushed away from the wall and glared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” This changed everything. “Why are you telling me now?”
“I thought you might have a little sympathy for the kid. You both—”
He felt the defensiveness inside him click on. The same defensiveness that had been lurking there since elementary school, just under the surface. “We both what? Came from loser families?” He motioned up toward her apartment. “Because we didn’t have a dad bringing home a paycheck and a mom cooking us lasagna every night?”
Her face paled. “Because you both grew up without your dads. You’re anything but a loser.”
A humorless laugh escaped from his throat. “That’s not what it felt like when every kid in fourth grade looked at you like you were damaged goods. The only freak in the whole school whose mom had been murdered. I can still see the kids staring at me when I walked into my new classroom, knowing they’d been told about my mom.”
“Just think how he must feel, being the only kid in class whose dad is in prison for murder.”
But the DNA test could show that his own father was the murderer, which would make him even more of an outcast. “I’ve got to go.” He yanked the keys from his pocket and stalked toward his truck as a maze of emotions swirled inside him.
How stupid could he have been? He’d actually thought that coming here to see her was the right thing to do. He’d thought it might make him feel less alone.
Then, lulled by the ambience of a quiet family dinner, he’d actually felt good for a while. Comfortable. Like maybe he could have this one day. How stupid could he have been?
He cranked the ignition and jerked the truck into reverse. In front of him, Gina waved. He cocked his chin; the subtle motion was the only good-bye he was willing to give.
What had he been thinking, anyway? He’d actually thought they might be together one day, after the whole Cyrus Alexander business was over. But now, reality hit him smack in the chest, like a barbell dropped on a weight bench.
He could never be with her. Not when her entire life was built on the safety of family. The comfort of home. It was all so foreign to him, like a language he didn’t understand.
Yes, he was drawn to her, but he’d have to get over that. He’d been alone for years. And he was going to have to stay that way.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
You two sure make a nice-looking couple,” Terri said once Gina got back into her apartment and carried the pie plates into the kitchen.
She spun to look at her mom. “Me and Landon?” No way could Terri know how much time she spent thinking about him. “You’re the one who invited him to dinner.”
“It’s not a problem between the two of you?” Her mom scraped some leftover crust into the trash can. “The man you’re trying to get out of prison?”
“It’s not like we’re dating or anything. For God’s sake, I’m pretty much the enemy.” She didn’t want to be, but that’s what it felt like most of the time.
“He wore your pants home the other morning.” A hint of crimson crept up her mom’s neck as she nodded toward the sweatpants Landon had apparently brought with him tonight. “That’s how you treat your enemies?”
Gina’s eyes widened. Her own mother—the woman who’d stammered through “the talk”—assumed they were sleeping together? All they’d had were a couple of fantastic kisses. Sure, she’d thought about more—his hands gliding over her body, his lips exploring her collarbone, her breasts. The hard parts of his body touching the soft parts of hers. The scent of him as she held him close, her hands greedily caressing those rounded shoulders. That strong neck. That gorgeous stomach.
But each time she thought about that, reality set in—that she’d thrust his life into shambles. He’d gone from certainty about his testimony to uncertainty. From a sad but predictable relationship with his father to practically accusing the guy of murder. And Gina was in the middle of it all. “We’re not dating. Or . . . that.” She followed her mom’s lead, referring to sex in vague, delicate terms. “Not now. Probably not ever.”
Terri gave her a knowing smile. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“With hatred and contempt?”
“He couldn’t keep his eyes off you during dinner.”
Gina shook her head. “He doesn’t want to date me.” As hard as it was to admit, his retreat the other night had convinced her of it. “He wants my help with his mom’s murder case, but that’s all.”
“You never know.” Her mom wiped the kitchen counter. “If it was meant to be, it will happen between the two of you. Your father and I . . . had an obstacle when we first met. He was engaged to marry someone else.” The crimson rose again on her neck.
“Really?” Gina tried to imagine a younger version of her mom stealing a guy from another girl.
“I knew the minute I saw him in economics class that he was going to be someone special in my life.” Her mom got a dreamy look on her face. “Did you ever get that feeling?”
Gina thought about the way the crime scene photos had haunted her. The way her own eyes had been drawn to Landon’s haunting gaze, despite everything else going on in the pictures around him. “Yeah,” she said. “I think I have.”
“Then something will happen between you.”
“That’s what you said with Christopher.”
“He never looked at you the way Landon does.” Her mother folded the dish towel and placed it on the counter.
“You only met him once.” Granted, it was two weeks before Gina had caught him sleeping with another girl, but she’d never told her mother that. It was just too embarrassing.
“You give it time.” Her mom patted her hand. “I think something will happen between the two of you.”
“I’m only in Tallahassee for a couple more weeks.”
And that’s when it hit her. In two short weeks, she wouldn’t see him again.
As quickly as he’d entered her life, he’d be gone from it.
And nothing in law school had prepared her for that.
Gina sat at her desk at Morgan’s Ladder and tapped the down arrow on her keyboard, moving from one e-mail to another. She should be working, but couldn’t concentrate on anything. She’d stayed up late with her parents last night, trying to enjoy their company before they left this morning. But she’d had a hard time thinking about anything except the Barbara Landon case. Any day now, they’d have the results of the DNA—Landon’s, Cyrus’s, and from the crime scene. A s
udden noise, a spilled cup of coffee, an angry word might send her into a nervous breakdown, whatever that looked like. Maybe she was already there. Or at least at the tipping point.
And to make matters worse, Suzanne had been in her office for fifteen minutes on the phone. With the door shut.
And Suzanne rarely shut her door.
Finally, her boss opened her office door and called Gina inside.
Gina took a deep breath as she took in Suzanne’s drained, pale expression. She sank into the chair across from Suzanne’s desk. She wanted to scream at her boss to speak, to blurt out whatever she’d found out from the lab. But Gina’s sudden nausea told her she didn’t want to know the answer. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for a trash can. She was going to need it if her belly didn’t stop rumbling.
Finally, Suzanne spoke. “They don’t know if Cyrus is the killer or not.”
A cold chill swept down Gina’s body, like an elevator plummeting down its shaft. “What?” This was the day they were supposed to get answers, not more questions. The day that was supposed to clear everything up.
“The DNA from the crime scene is too deteriorated. The results were inconclusive.”
Gina closed her eyes and swallowed, willing herself not to throw up. This wasn’t an answer she’d even contemplated. What did it mean? For Cyrus, it meant more prison time. For Landon, it meant no answers. This was the worst possible scenario. It didn’t help anyone.
She opened her eyes. “So they’ll never be able to use it? They’ll never be able to compare it to anyone else’s DNA? It will never tell them who the real killer was?”
Suzanne shook her head. “Not with the current technology.”
“So we accomplished nothing.” The second the words escaped her mouth, she wished she could take them back. The look on Suzanne’s face must mirror her own—disbelief, sorrow, defeat. She would never want her boss to think she thought badly of her. “I . . . I didn’t mean we didn’t try. I meant that . . .”
Suzanne held her hand up to interrupt her. “It’s disappointing.”
The Truth About Love Page 16