"Yes, but I can't even seem to make it easier...better."
"You know how you can make it better for me?"
"How?" He smiled, his face inching closer to mine. I could feel his breath on my skin.
"Make me forget. Even if it's only for a little while. Make me forg—"
His mouth came down on mine. I kissed him back, hungry for him. My mouth opened, allowing him in, and a sound of desire escaped from my throat.
I’d missed him so much.
He lifted me up and set me on the counter, just as he had during our first kiss at the store. He leaned in between my knees and I pulled him to me. Our mouths stayed connected, ravenous for each other. I grabbed at him, my fingernails digging into his skin as I pulled him even closer to me. My other hand wound its way into his tangled curls, urging him to kiss me harder, deeper. I wanted him so badly. And he wanted me back.
Then I remembered where I was. We weren’t at Turning Point. We were in my kitchen. In the home that I shared with Derek.
As much as I wanted to be with Landon, it couldn’t happen here. I didn’t want him like this — surrounded by the ghosts of violence and betrayal that happened within these walls. As much as I wanted to forget, there was no forgetting here, in this house
It took all the strength I had but I pushed him away from me.
"What's wrong?" he asked, in between gasps.
"Landon, I can't. Not here. Not in this house."
I expected him to be angry. We were pretty wound up...that much was obvious. My heart was racing and there was an ache between my legs that was not going to go away anytime soon. He leaned his forehead against mine, let out a groan of frustration, and pushed himself away from the counter.
"I'm sorry," I said, feeling bad that I let it go this far.
“No. You’re right.” He held up a hand to let me know that he was trying to get himself under control. "Dead dogs. Dead dogs," he repeated to himself.
I burst out laughing. "Dead dogs? Does that really work?"
"Shhh!" He hissed at me, eyes closed and he laughed nonetheless. When he finally looked at me, there was a mysterious twinkle dancing there.
"How soon can you be ready?"
"Ready for what?"
"Just ready?"
"I need a shower. Maybe twenty minutes?"
"Okay." He gave me a quick kiss on the mouth. "Go take your shower and I’ll take care of the rest." He helped me down from the counter, turned me toward the hallway, and nudged me in the direction of the bathroom.
What was he thinking?
At the bathroom door, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Landon reaching for his cell phone.
Chapter Fifteen
Landon and I pulled into the parking lot of the Ocean Cove motel an hour later. He held my hand in the truck, happy that we were finally together again. It didn't matter where we were or where we went from here, as long as we were together. I almost told him to keep going.
We could have just driven south, stopping only when we felt the urge.
We could have just kept going until we hit the southern tip of Mexico where we could have lived on the beach eating coconuts and swimming in the ocean every day.
Instead, we ended up in the tiny town of Manzanita fifteen miles south. It was just as big of a tourist trap as Cannon Beach. No one would know us here. We were free to be together.
"Sorry, I know it's not much." Landon opened the door to our hotel room. "But my boss doesn't pay me much."
I rolled my eyes and stepped inside. There was a king bed sitting against one side of the simply decorated room. Paintings of the ocean adorned the walls and the bedspread was covered with different colored seashells. A small dresser held an old television, bolted down as though it was valuable enough to steal. I supposed that when tourists got a little rowdy, anything was possible — even stealing ancient electronics.
I turned to gaze at Landon, a smile spreading across my face. "It's perfect." He closed the door behind him.
"I'm glad you approve," he replied, clearing his throat and fidgeting with the curtain. "It's got a bit of a view." He pointed out the window. "See? Right there is the ocean."
"I can see that," I said softly.
From the moment that the door closed, shutting out the world and anything that might disturb us Landon seemed nervous — like really nervous. Why would he be so jumpy? It wasn't as if this was going to be our first time or anything. However, something about this did feel very different. We were completely alone. There would be no one to interrupt us. No customers. No Hannah. I didn't have to rush home to Derek.
Landon took a step toward me and took both my hands in his. Were his hands shaking?
"There's something I need to say to you, and if I don't do it now, I might lose my nerve."
"What is it, Landon?"
"I'm sorry I got scared like I did. I should have never left you alone."
"We already talked about that. There’s no apology necessary. It's okay."
"But, you see, it's not okay. You were all alone and if something had happened to you..." His voice trailed off to barely above a whisper. "I would have never been able to forgive myself." By the look on his face and the way his eyes suddenly wouldn’t meet mine, I could only assume he was imagining all the "what if's" and worst-case scenarios.
"Landon, look at me." I shook our joined hands and waited until he looked up at me. "I'm fine. Nothing happened."
“But I should have been there."
"Baby, contrary to popular opinion, I can take care of myself."
"I know that but you shouldn't have had to take care of yourself with a bleeding brain and broken ribs. You could have punctured a lung or something!"
I held up my index finger. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"I took the hospital paperwork home and Googled what it said. I spent most of the night reading symptoms and complications from your injuries and worrying myself sick over you."
"Landon! For Christ's sake! A bleeding brain and punctured lung? I had a mild concussion and bruised ribs! I was not on death's door!"
"But it could have been so much worse."
"I'm well aware of that. But Landon, sweetheart, I'm not your responsibility."
"Yes, you are."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because…because I'm in love with you."
My breath caught in my chest, and my heart did a somersault. He loved...me?
"Belle?"
I began to sway back and forth.
"Breathe, Belle. You look like you're about to keel over."
"Huh?" I looked up at him as everything around me got all fuzzy and distorted. Was I going to faint? No. I just had to take a breath. The only problem was that it seemed I had forgotten how.
Landon put his hands on my shoulders, carefully holding me upright as I reminded myself how to breathe...in... and out.
"Are you going to be okay?"
I nodded as things slowly began coming back into focus and the ringing in my ears faded.
"Are you sure? Here...sit." He guided me over to the bed. I sat down carefully on the edge. "Is that better?"
I nodded again. "Could you...um...repeat what you just said?"
"I asked if you were sure that you're okay."
"No. Before that..." I said, just the hint of a smile.
It took Landon only a second to catch my drift and he knelt down in front of me so that our eyes and lips and even our noses were at the same level. "You mean the part about admitting I am head over heels in love with you?"
"Head over heels, huh?" I teased him.
"Yes."
"So, I did hear you right?"
"Yes. Right before you tried to faint on me. I've never quite had that reaction before."
"Oh, so you run around telling all the girls you’re in love with them?" I roped my hands up around his neck.
"Only the hot, older ones," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"I see how you are. Wait. You think I'm h
ot?"
"The hottest."
I laughed...and so did he. I slid my hands over his neck and then placed them on his face. I leaned into him and placed a soft kiss on his lips.
"Landon, I love you, too."
One of his trademark grins broke out across his face, the kind that made me weak in the knees. "Thank God!" he proclaimed.
I leaned back on the bed. "You aren't going to pass out on me, are you?"
"No. That seems to be your thing. Always wanting the attention."
"Ha ha."
Landon brought his lips back to mine, still smiling and kissed me very gently...at first, but things heated up quickly between us, as they usually did. I let out a sigh of pleasure when I felt him undo the top button of my blouse.
Making love to Landon that evening was so much more than the physical act of sex. We used our bodies to express the love we had finally admitted to each other. While we were joined, so were our hearts. I would never again feel this way about another person. I had given him my whole heart and I never wanted it back.
As we lay in bed afterwards, I relished the idea of spending one entire night in Landon's arms. I hoped that it was the first night of many and I listened to him breathing softly.
"Are you awake?" I whispered into the darkness, my arm reaching around to his chest as I held onto him.
He mumbled something incoherently.
“You know that first night we were together in your truck? I told you that I was scared, but what I didn’t tell you was that it’s because I was broken…I mean, I was broken on the inside.”
“Yeah? Me too, I guess.”
“But you fixed me, Landon. You saved me.”
“You save me too, Belle,” he whispered.
We lay in silence for a few minutes; I kissed his shoulder, feeling his warm skin under my lips. When he didn’t react, I increased my efforts and nipped at his shoulder. That certainly got his attention. He turned his head.
"Again?" He asked, pretending to be exhausted but with a glimmer in his eye that told me that he was just as ready for another round as I was. "Woman, are you trying to kill me?"
“You know, women hit their sexual peak in their thirties.” I giggled as he rolled into my embrace and on top of me.
"I’ve heard that too." He dropped kisses on my nose. "And I suppose if I have to fall on that sword, I will."
I lifted my head off the pillow and grabbed his lower lip lightly between my teeth, smiling. "I thought that was my job," I said provocatively.
He groaned. "You’re truly the perfect woman." He pulled the bedspread up over both of our heads.
It was the perfect night.
I woke before Landon. He was breathing deeply next to me and I allowed myself a few quiet minutes to relive the previous night.
Landon told me that he loved me. Amazing. I found that I wanted — hoped — for so much more. Love. A future. Happiness. Of course, more nights like last night were certainly at the top of my list.
I rolled over and wrapped myself around Landon, nuzzling into his shoulder. He stirred. I propped myself up on my elbow and began tracing the outline of the tattoo on his back with my finger as I considered it more closely.
The roots of the tree, just above his waistline, wove seamlessly into knots that continued and connected with the leaves that arched and blossomed out into branches between his shoulder blades. It was the most intricate artwork I’d ever seen up close. What I hadn’t noticed before were the angels floating just above the tree. The middle angel was older than the others were, a grown woman, perhaps. The other two angels were young girls — beautiful cherubs frozen in time. It was, overall, a spectacular scene, though it had a sadness about it that I couldn't quite interpret.
I had wondered about the tattoo from the first moment I laid eyes on it, curious about the significance. I never had the courage to ask, feeling as though by doing so, I was intruding on something.
Now, things were different and I felt as though I had the right to ask. We were certainly at that place. I wanted to know the tattoo, his favorite color, his favorite food. Everything.
"Why did you get this?" My lips danced across his skin.
"Hmmm?" he mumbled sleepily.
"Your tattoo. I mean, what does it mean to you?"
"The tree?"
"Yeah."
He let out a big yawn and stretched out in the bed, pulling me into his arms before he answered. "It took me a long time to find the perfect design. It's the Tree of Life. It’s supposed to represent the connection between the three worlds: the tree itself is in the present — earth. The roots connect to the underworld — or hell — as I like to think of it, and the branches reach up into heaven. They are all connected."
"Interesting. And very beautiful."
"I think so...I like it, although since it's on my back, I don't get to see it much. But that was the largest area of skin on my body and I wanted it to be big."
"How long did it take to get done?"
"About forty hours...five visits for about eight hours each time."
"Wow. That's dedication."
"Well, it was important."
"Why? It's the only tattoo you have and it's so large…so the design itself must have meant something. Am I right?"
"Why are you so curious about this, Belle?"
"Because I want to know everything about you and this seems like a pretty good place to start." I rolled up to rest my chin on his chest. "Obviously, it’s very important. You said so yourself."
He sighed. "It's not a very happy story, Belle."
"Please tell me. I’m good with unhappy stories."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," I needed to know. "Who’re the angels? Someone you knew?" I whispered against his chest, pressing him to tell me.
I heard him take in a controlled breath and let it out slowly. "My mom and my two sisters, Sara and Elizabeth."
"You have sisters? I’ve never heard you mention them."
"I had sisters."
"Had?" I uttered so quietly, he probably didn’t hear me.
"They all died. In an accident, a long time ago."
"Oh my God, Landon. I'm so sorry."
"I told you that it wasn't a happy story."
"Please…will you tell me about it?”
"There isn't a lot to tell. I was staying at a friend's house, my first sleepover, and they were all killed on the way back from dropping me off. I remember running up the steps with my rolled up sleeping bag and pillow without even looking back or waving goodbye. I didn’t know it was going to be the last time I’d ever see them. Any other night, I would have been in the car with them. Imagine that...all because of a stupid sleepover."
"Landon, sweetheart. You can't think like that."
"Survivor's guilt...that's what the therapist told me. Survivor's guilt? Ha! There's only one person who should feel guilty...that drunk idiot killed them all. I know the bastard will rot in hell someday. If there’s any justice in the world."
A drunken idiot. Dread flooded my veins as my brain clicked the pieces of the puzzle together. It couldn't be...could it?
"Were they older than you?"
He nodded. "Sara was twelve, and Elizabeth was ten at the time."
It couldn't be true. Life could not be that twisted.
"The guy who killed them…" I began hesitantly, “who was he?”
He paused. "Some drunken high school kid." Anger simmered in his tone.
I sat straight up, my hand clamped down over my mouth to keep from screaming. I shook my head, violently. This could not be true. I put my feet on the floor, looking for anything that could hold me in place as everything good in my life was torn away from me once again.
“Hey,” Landon, noticing my alarm, leaned up on his arm. “Are you okay?”
"What was his name though? I mean the person who did it." I ignored his question, my bare back turned to him, clutching the bedspread to m
y chest.
Please don't say Derek Walters! Please!
"I don't know. I was so young at the time. I never cared back then who did it, just that all of a sudden my mom and big sisters were gone. Then I went through a phase in high school, my angry phase, where I wanted to hunt the guy down and kill him. I asked my dad but he refused to tell me. He told me to leave it alone, told all his friends not to talk to me about it. Made it hard for me. I guess he realized that if I did find out, I’d probably end up in jail and then I’d be no better than the low-life who killed my family. My dad made me promise not to go looking. Most of the time growing up he didn’t care where I went or what I did, but he cared about this. I agreed to keep him happy and for whatever reason, I didn’t pursue it further. Now I’m kinda glad I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anymore. I could have passed him a hundred times during my life in Cannon Beach and wouldn’t know it.”
I just stared at the wall, not looking at him, too shocked to speak.
“You know how they say that ignorance is bliss? Well, I say that ignorance is also peace.”
My mind swirled with questions. His name — Landon. That wasn't the boy’s name. I searched my memory for any clue that would prove me wrong. This could not be true. In the yearbooks, there had been no Landons. None. I checked them all.
"Landon?"
"Yes, sweetheart."
"No. I mean, Landon...was that always your name?"
He leaned up on his elbow and kissed my shoulder. "How’d you know that?” He ran his hand down the bare skin of my arm leaving goose bumps in his wake. “As a matter of fact, no. I was a junior growing up, named after my Dad," he answered, as the walls closed in around me. "Everyone always called me Joey, so they wouldn't mix up me and my dad. But when I left Cannon Beach, I wanted a fresh start. My middle name is Landon. I told you — remember? It was my mom's maiden name."
Little Joey Peterson.
A strangled cry escaped from my throat. I threw the covers off and stood, grabbing for my clothes. I had to get out of here.
"Belle. What's wrong?" he asked, panicked.
I was nearly hysterical as jumped into my pants, threw my shirt on, and slipped on my shoes. I pulled my hair up in one swift movement, as I kept repeating in a low whisper, "No. No. This can't be happening."
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