26. Lydia
LYDIA
“ H ow’s the burger?” Landon asked from the other side of the couch.
“So good.” I all but moaned around a bite.
True to Landon’s words, after we got out of the hospital, he drove us to Rick’s and got me a giant hamburger and onion rings. He was sweet enough to get me dessert for later, too.
Eating with one hand was difficult, but I made do. The light blue cast I was now sporting went all the way to my second knuckles, around my thumb, and up my forearm. It made moving my fingers difficult, which obviously was the point.
It had taken another hour at the hospital to get the cast and to go over what I needed to do to keep it clean.
Landon stood there, listening intently as they told me if I wanted to shower I would have to put a plastic wrap on it.
I had to take it easy and not over extend my fingers so the bones could heal.
Landon promised the doctors I’d follow their rules to a T.
The TV was on, the sound soft, as we ate.
Now that I had some food in me and was home, the guilt of making Landon stay with me all day doubled.
First, I made him pick me up from jail, clean me up, and spend the night.
Then, he stayed with me the whole time at the hospital when he probably had a lot of other stuff to do.
“Thank you for everything today,” I said after I ate the last of my burger. “You didn’t have to spend your day taking care of me.”
“I know.” He looked at me, hazel eyes bright. “But I wanted to.” Tears pricked my eyes again. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with me today.
“I didn’t thank you for coming to get me last night.” I looked down at the remaining fries as I spoke. “We didn’t mean for things to get so crazy. It was just supposed to be a fun bachelorette party.” Landon deserved answers after coming to the jail and taking care of me.
“I know you weren’t exactly thrilled,” I said softly. Landon tried to hide how angry he was, but even drunk, I knew he was.
“I’m not mad at you,” Landon said after a pause. “I’m mad that you were put in a situation where you had to defend yourself. I’m mad you hurt your hand on some asshole who doesn’t understand the word no.”
There was a sharp edge to every word, his voice laced with anger he clearly wasn’t aiming at me. When he finally looked up, the fire in his eyes nearly knocked me back against the couch.
“I’m mad that I wasn’t there to protect you.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as his gaze pierced through me.
“I…”
“I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” His voice was calm but laced with warning.
“Yours?” The word slipped out more like a question, my heart thudding in my chest at the thought of belonging to him .
“Yes.” His tone was matter-of-fact.
I wanted to tell Landon that I wanted more.
That this was way more than us just being friends with benefits.
The words were right there, but I couldn’t get them past my lips.
Today had already been long and tiring, and I knew my emotions were heightened.
It wasn’t the right time to tell him. I’d tell him soon.
Until then, I could give him more of myself.
“There is something else I wanted to talk about,” I said a moment later. Abandoning the rest of my onion rings, I sat back on the couch, drawing my legs up to put a pillow on my lap for my hand.
As if he knew this was a serious conversation, Landon moved closer, giving me his full attention.
“I didn’t exactly drop the bomb about growing up in foster care in the best way.” I winced as I remembered how I babbled on the ride home, drunk as hell and unable to stop my mouth.
“You don’t have to—” Landon started to say, but I cut him off.
“I’m not embarrassed by it.” Foster care wasn’t easy, but it taught me a lot. Like how even the hardest things in life shaped me into who I was today. “In a weird way, I’m thankful for it.”
“Was it…” Landon trailed off as if he wasn’t sure what he could ask but I knew what he was referring to. It was the same one most people had when foster care was brought up.
“Nothing bad happened,” I reassured him. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. “The couple that took me in were nice enough. They were spread thin, though, taking in five kids when there really wasn’t room. But they fed us, clothed us. They let me stay until I graduated and got into uni.”
“Do you still talk to them?”
“No. After I left and the checks stopped coming, they cut off contact. Not that they were ever really involved to begin with.” Unfortunately, that wasn’t unusual.
A lot of foster parents were in it for the financial support, which could add up depending on how many kids they took in.
It was a harsh reality, but it happened more than people thought.
“What about your real mom?” Landon asked.
“I tried to find her when I was sixteen.” Even now, the thought of her brought a dull ache to my chest. Not because I missed her. That faded long after she left and never came back. What I missed was the idea of what I never had. A real family. A normal childhood.
“It had been months since anyone saw or heard from her. She could have passed for all I knew.” I shrugged. “I stopped looking because it was obvious she didn’t want to be found.”
“Sometimes it would be easier if they died, even if that makes us shitty people,” Landon said, no trace of sympathy or pity on his face. Out of everyone, Landon knew what it was like to have an absentee parent. To have someone who claimed they loved you but left.
Our stories were different, but we knew what it was like to be abandoned.
“We are kind of awful, aren’t we?” I looked at him, a small smile creeping onto my face.
“The worst for sure.” We shared a look and both laughed softly.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said after a moment.
“Yeah, well, thought I’d return the favor since you told me yours.” I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. There was still something big from my past I needed to tell him, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. Soon.
“How about I clean this up and we can start a movie?” Landon suggested. I wasn’t about to tell him he didn’t need to stay, that he already did enough. I wanted him to stay more than I wanted anything else.
“I’ll go change.” While I was wearing somewhat comfy clothes, I really wanted my pj’s, especially after spending way too long at the hospital in them. “I’ll be right back.” I cradled my hand to my chest, not bothering to use the sling the doctor sent me home with.
“Let me know if you need help,” he called after me as he got to work on clearing up the living room.
Changing proved to be even harder with a cast. I got my sweater off after and pulled one of Landon’s shirts on, but my pants were another issue.
I glared at the fuzzy bottoms in my hand.
I clearly wasn’t used to the cast, and whenever I did move, my hand still hurt.
Paired with my still-heightened emotions, I didn’t want to deal with the pants.
I left my bottoms on the floor and went to my bathroom in Landon’s T-shirt. I cringed at my reflection and prayed I didn’t actually look like this the entire time I was at the hospital.
I tried to brush my teeth, the main word being tried . If only I was left-handed, all of this would be easier. I felt like a little kid that got toothpaste everywhere the first time they brushed their teeth.
My frustration grew when I pulled my hair out of my ponytail and tried to re-pull it up.
The knotted pieces hung by my face as pressure built behind my eyes.
I was never much of a crier, but the tears came on quick.
I was an emotional wreck as I leaned against the counter and silently cried as I tried to get myself together.
“Babe?”
I lifted my eyes to the mirror and found Landon behind me. As soon as I met his eyes, I started crying even harder.
“I can’t pull my hair up,” I sobbed, overwhelmed by the stress, exhaustion, and the effects of the medications crashing over me. “And I can’t wear pants.”
In two long strides, Landon came to my side and turned me around before he wrapped his arms around me. His chin came down on top of my head as I buried my face in his chest. His warmth and sturdiness had me burrowing deeper.
“It’s okay,” he whispered against my head.
He let me cry into his chest until the tears finally ebbed. He placed soft kisses on my head as I gripped the back of his shirt. His steadiness grounded me as I slowly calmed down.
“Sorry,” I sniffled.
“Hey.” Landon pulled back so he could cup the sides of my face, those beautiful hazel eyes soft as his thumbs brushed the tops of my cheekbones. “Don’t ever apologize.”
“I got your shirt all wet.” My eyes found the dark spot on his shirt where my face had been.
“Not the worst thing you’ve gotten wet.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “Pretty sure you’ve gotten my face wet a time or two.”
“You are such a perv,” I said, but my words held no fire.
“Funny, you don’t complain when my head’s between your legs,” he said casually, clearly trying to steer the mood away from my tears and back to something lighter.
A shaky laugh slipped past my lips before I could stop it.
“Let me help you with your hair so we can go watch a movie.” He reached around me to grab the brush as I turned around to face the mirror with him at my back.
I watched through the glass, my heart feeling like it was going to burst, as Landon gently ran the brush through my hair. He was doing it so softly, like he was afraid it was going to hurt me. As he started to gather my hair in his hands to make a ponytail, I couldn’t help but snort.
“You’re gripping my hair like you’re about to fuck me.” He had my hair clamped in one hand close to my head, fingers spread through the strands. He held it like he did when he slid took me from behind. It was definitely not how a woman pulled her own hair up.
His grip tightened a smidge as he yanked my head back by my hair, making me crane my neck backward until I was looking at him upside down.