Hell, I even missed the way she swore up and down that she didn’t fart.
The girl was so adamant that she didn’t do anything of the sort that it was comical.
According to her, she was God’s one exception to the rule. She did not do those kinds of things—even though we both knew she did.
Hell, I swore on all that was holy that the girl got up an hour early just so she could do the things—such as taking a shit—that she was just too embarrassed to do when I was around or awake.
“Are you coming?” she asked, looking at me weirdly.
But she didn’t take her hand away.
And I was reluctant to let it go, even though I wanted to.
“Landry!”
I turned just as my mother came barreling toward us, pushing me aside.
I stepped back from Landry and dropped her hand, only for my leg to nearly give out from underneath me.
I felt bile rise up my throat, and it took everything that I had not to bend over and throw up right then and there.
I should’ve been better by now.
I shouldn’t hurt this much so long after I’d been shot.
Yet, I did hurt.
Obviously, I knew it wasn’t going to heal in a day, but it should be at least a little bit better by this point.
But it wasn’t.
And I had a feeling, one deep in my gut, that this wound was not a simple one. It wasn’t going to be fixed…and I was likely going to lose my leg.
Speaking of which, I drew a deep steadying breath and reached past Landry, who was in my mother’s arms and got my bottle of pills. Popping them open, I threw one of the horse pill antibiotics in my mouth and swallowed it dry.
It stuck in my throat about halfway down, and I reached for Landry’s drink that she’d yet to finish.
Washing it down the rest of the way, I licked my lips and tasted her apple Chapstick, groaning at the flavor.
God, I’d loved it when I kissed her and tasted that.
It was so perfectly her.
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” my mother said, pulling back.
“You haven’t missed me?” I croaked.
My mother glanced at me, stuck out her tongue, and then pulled Landry in for one more quick hug.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said, her eyes turning to concern. “Are you okay?”
Landry’s eyes went to me, and her frown deepened.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling away and moving toward me.
Oh, nothing much. I think my leg is about to fall off due to the pain I’m in.
“Stepped wrong,” I lied.
“Stepped wrong my ass,” my father grunted as he finally caught up to my mother, who had obviously run ahead of him. “You pushed him out of the way, and he had to stumble to catch his balance. You’re lucky the truck was right there, or he would’ve fallen straight on his ass. Jesus, Minnie. He was just shot not long ago!” my father, Porter, growled. “And you. You went and got yourself shot, too. What the fuck is going on in Texas?”
Landry smiled at my father, and tears came to her eyes.
The minute my dad saw that, he sighed and said, “Come ‘ere, girl.”
Landry threw herself at my old man, and I felt my heart skip a beat inside my chest.
Not only had she left me, but she’d left my family too.
My parents had adored her from the moment that they’d met her, and Landry had latched onto them like they would leave her at any second.
My dad reached around Landry’s body to wrap her up tight and narrowly missed smacking me in the face as he did.
“You’re talking about me not paying attention,” my mother, Minnie, laughed. “You almost clocked him in the face!”
Porter shrugged, uncaring. “Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”
I rolled my eyes and took a step away from the truck in the direction of my mother.
My mom wrapped her arms around me gently and said, “You okay?”
I nodded and dropped my mouth to the top of her head, inhaling the floral scent that she’d worn since I was a child, and feeling like I was home. “Yeah, Ma. I’m good. How are you?”
“I’d be good if that lawyer asshole would tell me what was going on,” she muttered.
“That lawyer asshole is your brother,” I paused. “And why wouldn’t he tell you?”
Porter moved until his arm was across Landry’s shoulders. “Let’s go find out.”
And that’s what we did.
Arriving in the lawyer’s office—my uncle Jimmy’s office—I took a seat and nearly groaned audibly at the way the pressure was taken off of my leg.
“Fuck, that hurts,” I growled, feeling my stomach clench, and my ears beginning to lose the slight ring.
“Got that right,” my father muttered.
I looked over at my old man, who’d also taken his seat on the comfortable leather couch just down from me.