7. Landry
CHAPTER 7
landry
“Hey,” I greet Daisy as I walk into the house. She’s sitting on the couch, attempting to thread a needle.
“Oh, hey,” she returns when I get closer, but she sounds more anxious than usual. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. Um, how was your interview?”
“Good. I guess I’m officially hired now.” I hold up a stack of onboarding paperwork.
“Congratulations, Doc.” She offers me a forced smile as she pulls the needle through a button, but I can tell there’s something bothering her.
“How was school?”
“Fine,” she says on a sigh and shifts to tuck her feet beneath her. She’s wearing another one of her linen sundresses, this one with skinny shoulder straps. But I spot a cardigan sweater draped over a chair back at the counter.
“Did you have any trouble finding a ride home this afternoon?”
“Not at all. My mentor teacher Claire gave me a lift. How were the girls?”
She’s deflecting, but I can’t help smiling when I talk about my nieces. “Great. Loren got Penny to nurse for the first time today.”
She looks up from her sewing, and her face lights up more genuinely. “Oh, that’s awesome! They’re already making so much progress. I bet they’ll be home before we know it.”
“Yeah,” I agree, moving to sit beside her on the couch. I drop the folder full of work forms on the coffee table, and she scoots over to accommodate me. “Everything okay?” I ask cautiously.
“Mm-hmm,” she squeaks, obviously lying. Then she winces and shakes her finger out when she pokes herself with the needle.
I grunt quietly but let it go. “Any plans for dinner?”
She rolls her eyes. “Not for the foreseeable future.”
I fidget uncomfortably before I reach for the remote. “Kinda figured you’d have made a few friends by now. You’re good at that.”
“I’ve made friends. It’s just that most of them are busy with their own families or have coaching obligations.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Coaching?”
Daisy shrugs. “Beth’s busy with pep squad, Jasmine’s coaching cross country, and Claire hasn’t invited me to hang out outside of school yet. And I guess I’m too afraid to ask.”
I’m admittedly a little relieved we’re talking about a she .
“Since when do you get shy around strangers?” I pose jokingly as I turn on the TV.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed. Maybe it’s put a damper on my confidence,” she admits quietly, pulling the thread taught again. “Or maybe I’m not as good at all this adulting as I thought I’d be.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I guess I thought I’d be better at most of this … teaching, cooking, making friends, dating, being a self-sufficient twenty-something-year-old in general …”
“You’re not supposed to have it all figured out yet. Most people do a lot of living in their mid-twenties,” I grumble, because I refuse to allow myself to see Daisy as an adult. But then my eyes dart over to the side, running over her mostly bare shoulders and the sexy scattering of freckles down the back of her neck, and I gulp.
No—I’m not going there. It’s wrong on so many levels.
I look away quickly, forcing my gaze back to the TV. Daisy sighs wistfully, and I struggle to keep my eyes off her.
“Is this living?” she poses thoughtfully.
“Work and responsibility are just about all I’ve ever known,” I reply.
“I’m sure you had some form of fun at my age, right?”
Memories of balancing part-time jobs, helping my alcoholic mom get back on her feet after another round of rehab, and laboring through medical school flood my brain.
“Less than you might think,” I turn to tell her, and she gives me a sad smile.
“More fun than having to rely on your brother’s best friend for everything and stressing over your lack of health insurance?” she asks sardonically.
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean by a lack of health insurance?”
She cringes. “Did I not mention I won’t actually qualify for benefits as a long-term sub?”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I double checked in my employee portal. Apparently, I’d have to get a regular teaching position for all that to kick in.”
“Shit, Daisy, how could you miss something so important?” I realize a second too late that it sounds like I’m scolding her.
“I guess I misunderstood that part when I took the job,” she replies meekly.
I sigh. “Have you told your parents? Aren’t you still on their insurance?”
She shakes her head. “I’m covered until the end of this month, but I made such a big deal of them taking me off their policy that I have to figure this out myself.”
“Wouldn’t you qualify for Medicaid if you filed for disability, you know, because of the epilepsy?”
“I’m not filing for disability. The whole point of coming out here was to work and become more self-sufficient,” she says resolutely.
“Then what the hell are you going to do? You can’t go without your anti-seizure meds, right?”
“I guess I’ll be saving every spare penny and using it to pay for my prescriptions out of pocket. I should get a permanent position after the holidays, once the home ec teacher retires, which means I should be eligible for coverage after the first of the year.”
“And what if you have another episode before then? What if you need to go to the hospital or see your doctor?”
She shrugs shyly. “I suppose all I can do is pray for a nice, seizure-free spell. And in the meantime, I’ll luckily be living with an actual doctor—a really good one. Right?”
She sounds like she might be looking for my reassurance, but my mind is already reeling, sorting through the details of her situation in search of a practical solution. “There’s gotta be something we can do. I’ll call the pharmaceutical company tomorrow to see if I can get you a rebate or some samples of your medication.”
“That would actually help a lot, thank you.” She reaches out to squeeze my forearm, and I barely resist flinching at the contact. “I don’t know how I’d get through all this without you, Landry. You’re practically my guardian angel at this point,” she continues anyway.
“I’m no angel,” I blurt out harshly. She turns her big, round eyes back to me, and I clear my throat in an attempt to soften my tone. “I owe it to Rowan to look after you, don’t I?”
“You don’t owe my brother anything,” she says, shaking her head.
I swallow hard. “He’s been good to me over the years. Better than my real family most of the time. The least I can do is treat you like family, too.”
“Are you sure you’re not just being nice because you’re a good person?”
“It’s probably because I can’t help thinking of you as another little sister since you’re just as persistent and stubborn as the one I grew up with.”
She bites her lip and looks down at her sewing again. “Well, regardless of your motives, I’m grateful. And I’m not going to stop reminding you of it until you learn to accept a compliment.”
My chest warms a bit, and I laugh softly as I reach up to rub it without thinking. “I can see that.”
I notice the way her cheeks flush, and they grow even darker when she catches me staring. She tucks her long hair behind her ears, exposing her neck and shoulders again, then her eyelashes flutter and her lips turn up into a demure smile.
Is she … trying to flirt with me?
No, of course not.
Maybe she’s embarrassed? I suppose referring to her as my baby sister might have made her feel worse, especially given the fact that she’s not adulting so well.
Either way, I can’t acknowledge it without opening up an inconvenient and inappropriate can of worms.
“Don’t worry about the insurance stuff. We’ll figure this out,” I tell her brusquely, then I get up and walk into the kitchen without waiting for her response.
I realize I’m actually hungry once I get there, and I dig around in the pantry before settling on a snack. “So what are we attempting to make for dinner tonight?” I call out after a while.
“I found a new TikTok recipe for scrambled eggs,” she jokes from the living room.
I return with a bowl of popcorn and sit beside her again. “Is that really the only thing we can make between the two of us?”
“After the great peanut butter cookie debacle earlier this week, I’m afraid we’re limited to omlets and sandwiches, at least for now,” she says longingly.
“Maybe we should find a cooking show to record or something.” I grab the remote again and pull up the guide.
“I was also thinking we could look into one of those meal delivery kits,” she adds, going to trade her sewing project for her phone and inadvertently bumping the new hire forms I left on the coffee table earlier. “Crap on a cracker,” she protests as we both reach for the papers scattered on the floor. Our fingers brush, and a spark zaps through me from our point of contact. I yank my hand back and mumble an apology before returning to the couch, chalking it up to static electricity.
She finishes cleaning up and gestures to the forms with a sigh. “It’s too bad you can’t add me to your insurance policy, right? I could have paid you back for my half of the premium.”
I laugh shortly as she joins me on the couch and dips her hand into the bowl of popcorn. “No kidding.”
“With the way so many people avoid commitment and refuse to get married these days, you’d think they’d make living together the only prerequisite for coverage,” she continues, almost sounding sad about it.
“No—you’re right. Maybe there’s some kind of loophole,” I say thoughtfully before handing her the bowl and picking up the paperwork. She crunches on the popcorn and watches as I skim through the health insurance portion with a renewed purpose.
“Dammit,” I curse under my breath after a minute. “It says here that adult partners can only qualify for coverage with documentation of at least one of the following: legal marriage, civil union, current pregnancy, shared children or minor dependents, or domestic partnership of six months or longer.”
“Hmm. I don’t suppose it would be worth trying to forge the last part.”
I drop the papers onto the table again and sigh. “It’d be tough, but possible. We’d have to find a way to make it look like we lived together in Baton Rouge.”
“I doubt we could pull it off without my family’s help. And I don’t like the idea of flat-out lying to them or anyone else,” she says, sounding firm.
“Even if it’s your only option?”
She shakes her head again. “I’m not willing to sell my soul to save my flesh.”
I laugh shortly. “You would say that, little Rowan.”
She sticks out her tongue playfully, but I can tell she accepts it as the compliment I intend it to be. The truth is that I’ve always admired Rowan’s moral compass, stringent as it is. I may have given him a hard time over the years about not bringing women home, but besides our views on love and relationships, we shared most of the same values. We’d always agreed that family, school, and work come first, and neither of us cared much for drinking and partying. And while I know I’ll never reach the level of genuine goodness or wholesome likability of Rowan or any of the other LaFleurs, I’d be lying if I said I never tried to emulate him or at least consider what he’d say in certain situations. My lack of success with following through with those good intentions is a whole other story, though.
Now I find myself wondering what I’d want Rowan to do if it were Loren facing this same predicament, and the answer is clear—whatever it takes to keep Daisy safe and healthy. Securing her happiness is secondary to her well-being.
“Then that leaves us with no other choice,” I begin, only partly conscious of the impulsive move I’m about to make. “We’ll have to get married.”
Daisy laughs through a mouthful of popcorn. “Yeah, right.” But she goes quiet when her eyes meet mine. “Wait, you’re not actually serious?”
I shrug. “I’m always serious.”
She knocks over the bowl, spilling popcorn everywhere. But she ignores the mess and looks up at me with widened eyes. “You’d really marry me just so I can have health insurance?”
“I can’t just let you go the next four or five months without coverage. And I don’t really buy into marriage and all that, anyway, so what’s the harm?”
Her jaw opens and closes a few times as she tries to find the words. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you’re willing to do this.”
“Why not?” I shrug. “It’s only temporary. We’ll get an annulment after your insurance goes into effect, and it’ll be like it never happened. No one else needs to know.”
She stares at me a second longer. “And you really think we can pull it off? What happens if either of our families get wind of it?”
“I don’t see how they’d find out, but we can tell them whatever you want if they do,” I hear myself saying. A tiny voice in the back of my mind objects to the idea of Rowan hearing about this, but my intentions are good, so I don’t have anything to hide.
Except I’d probably be tempted to murder any man who married my sister without telling me, regardless of his reasons. Hell, Blake had the courtesy to warn me before he asked my sister to marry him for all the right reasons, and I still wanted to wrap my hands around his throat when I saw him get down on one knee.
“For the record, I think it’s better if we keep it quiet,” I add after a while, and Daisy nods in agreement.
“What about insurance fraud? Haven’t they made movies about this exact scenario?” she asks.
“We’re already living together. I doubt anyone would bother investigating us.”
She purses her lips and furrows her brow in deep thought. “I guess we can always dress up and look the part when we do get married, just in case. And since we’d only be having a civil ceremony, it wouldn’t technically be a real wedding, right?”
“None of them are valid to me, so yeah, sure,” I reply with a smirk.
She smiles back at me before her eyes grow wide again and her cheeks flush. “We wouldn’t have to, you know, consummate anything, would we?”
I force out a laugh, deliberately ignoring the thoughts she conjures up. “Absolutely not.”
“Then I don’t get it,” she mumbles after a while, biting her lip. “What’s in it for you?”
Her question catches me off guard, and I lean back as I think about my answer.
“And don’t give me any more of that ‘I owe it to Rowan’ or ‘you’re like a little sister’ baloney,” she adds.
“I guess …” I reach up and run my fingers through my hair. “Maybe I like helping people. Maybe I feel guilty about being a jerk most of the time, and I’m always looking for ways to make up for that.”
Her mouth curls up on one side. “Because you’re actually a good person with a grumpy exterior?”
I’m already regretting my confession. “Maybe.”
“Or am I so pathetic that you think you have to keep stepping in and saving me?” Her chin wobbles as she strains to hold her expression.
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t think you’re pathetic, Daisy. If anything, I admire your determination, especially since you’re not willing to compromise your morals and take the easy way out. But I don’t think you’ve ever really gotten a fair chance. So even though I know you’re capable of figuring this out on your own, I want to help you in whatever way I can.”
That makes her smile look more genuine again.
“So, just to be clear, you’re offering to marry me because you want to make my life easier … and because you simply care about me as a person—as your friend—and not only because I’m Rowan’s sister?”
My eyes travel to hers, and I sigh in defeat. “Sure, let’s go with that.”
Her smile transforms into a full-on grin as she bounces up to tuck her feet beneath her. “Okay, then. I’ll consider it.”
“You’ll consider it?” I retort.
“Well, yeah. Don’t you think we should sleep on something this big? Pray about it?”
I grunt, annoyed because she tricked me into admitting all that just to leave me hanging. “You do that, then.”
“Landry,” she says, her expression almost patronizing. “I want you to have the option to change your mind. If I say yes now, you’ll feel obligated to go through with it, even if you find a reason to back out.”
The irony of her being the mature adult in this situation and insisting on considering the consequences of our actions isn’t lost on me. And it’s not very flattering.
“Okay, but you don’t have long to make up your mind. There’s no point in getting married if we don’t get it done before you fall off your parents’ policy,” I tell her, as if she doesn’t know that already. “And I’ve gotta turn in this paperwork next week.”
“I’ll have an answer for you by then, I promise,” she replies with a smile.
It suddenly feels stifling in the room, so I give her a short nod before I stand abruptly, hoping to put some space between us.
“Landry?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For caring.” She lifts one of her nearly bare shoulders and lets it fall, and my attention is temporarily distracted again.
“Yeah—I mean, you’re welcome, I guess.” I stoop to pick up the spilled popcorn while I cringe at my awkward response. But something catches my eye, and I finally recognize the pile of fabric she set down on the coffee table earlier. It’s one of my shirts, but it’s no longer missing a button.
“Sorry I couldn’t find an exact match,” she says from the couch. “But this one’s close enough, right?”
I blink down at the formerly empty spot where the new hardware resides, the needle still stuck through one of the button’s four holes. No one’s ever sewn anything for me before—not even my mom.
My thumb brushes the side of the button, testing it out. But she’s secured it well, and she’s even managed to cover the holes the old button left behind.
“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” I choke out before I let the shirt fall onto the coffee table and retreat into the kitchen.