Landon & Shay - Part Two: (The L&S Duet Book 2) Page 8

  If you can’t talk to me, please let me know that you’re talking to someone. Please let me know that you’re not drowning in your own mind. We need you here, Landon. Don’t let the depression pull you under. You’re strong, and you’re not alone. Even if you feel like that some days. I love you times two. Please text me back.

  Shay: I watched an interview of you and saw the fakeness in your smile. I don’t know what’s going on, Landon, but I can tell you’re hurting. You don’t have to be fake around me. If there is one person in this world that you can be real with, it’s me. I’ve seen your scars and they don’t scare me. Come back to me and fall apart. I’ll catch you. I’m here.

  8

  Shay

  One Thursday afternoon in November, I stopped by the mailbox after my class to see if there was a letter from Landon. I checked way too often, even though I knew when the mail carrier delivered the letters.

  Still, nothing.

  As disappointment settled in my chest from even more silence, I started walking toward the townhouse and I paused when I saw a boy sitting on the front porch steps. My boy.

  My heart leaped out of my chest as I hurried over to him. His shoulders were rounded forward, and his head was lowered as he stared down at his shoes. His long, brown hair was covering his face, wet and greasy looking.

  “Landon…what are you doing here?” I asked, a million thoughts rocketing through my mind. What did it matter why he was there? All that I knew was I wanted to wrap my arms around him and hold on so tight.

  “I didn’t want to crumple like he said I would,” he murmured.

  “What do you mean? Who said that?”

  “My father. He said I’d crumple, and you’d be left to clean up my mess. I didn’t want that to be what happened, but I didn’t really know where else to go.” He looked up to me with raw emotion sitting in his stare. “Do you think I’m the reason he’s dead?” he asked me. Tears welled up in his eyes and began crusading down his face. “Did I kill my father?”

  I shot to his side and sat down beside him as I wrapped my arms around him. He smelled heavily of whiskey and marijuana; two things I knew he hadn’t taken a part in in a very long time.

  Oh, Landon.

  Where have you gone, and how can I get you back?

  “No, of course it wasn’t your fault. There is no possible way it was your fault.”

  “Maybe he needed me to come work for him. Maybe he’d still be here if I gave him what he wanted.”

  “Landon, you know that’s not true. Your father was sick…it had nothing to do with you.”

  “Then why does it feel like it’s my fault like Lance was my fault?”

  “Lance wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault.” I saw it happening right before my eyes…him slipping back into his old dark thoughts.

  He sniffled, and rubbed his hand beneath his nose, choking on his words. “I’m sorry, Shay. I’m fucked up,” he murmured. “I didn’t want you to see me like this but shit…” He ran his hand over his mouth repeatedly as more tears fell from his eyes. His whole body began to tremble as he lost himself on my front porch. Stoned, drunk, and broken.

  “Come on,” I said, pulling him to his feet. I wrapped an arm around his waist and led him toward the townhouse. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit,” he drunkenly whispered, stumbling back and forth as I tried to keep him steady. “You shouldn’t have to deal with my fucking mess.”

  “Shh,” I hushed him, knowing his mind was moving too fast to comprehend anything I would say to him in his current state. “Let’s just take a shower, okay?”

  He nodded in agreement.

  As I led him through the living room, Tracey looked up from the couch. “What’s going on?” Her eyes moved to Landon. “Is he drunk? It’s three in the afternoon,” she remarked. “On a Tuesday!”

  “Not now, Tracey,” I said, walking toward the bathroom. The last thing I needed was her judgements. We entered the bathroom and I closed the door behind us, locking it. Landon leaned against the wall as I turned on the shower, making sure the water was warm enough.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Shay. I’m really sorry,” he kept repeating. I didn’t say anything back. I helped him slide out of his clothes and helped him into the shower.

  “Come with?” he asked.

  I undressed, too, and stepped into the steaming shower with him. The water raced over us, and I placed shampoo in my hands and began rubbing it in Landon’s hair. Then, soaped up his body as he swayed side to side, still completely out of it. My mind was playing games with me as the situation took hold, and I was having flashbacks to my past, feeling so much unease with it all.

  “Mama, what are you doing?” I asked, walking past the bathroom where Dad was slumped over in the shower. “Is Daddy okay?” He didn’t look okay. His eyes weren’t open, and he swayed back and forth in the tub.

  “He’s fine, Shay,” she said, hurrying me out of the bathroom. “Get back to bed. I’ll be there to tuck you in soon.”

  I tried to shake the memories away, not wanting them to settle too much, but the situation was so fresh in my mind as I tended to Landon the same way Mom had my father.

  An eerie feeling followed me as I led him to my room and lie him down on the bed. He kept apologizing as he faded to sleep, and I wrapped my arms around his body, unable to get any rest of my own. What had Landon been going through over the past few weeks? I’d seen him in the tabloids looking happy as ever, and he was doing a few interviews, smiling cheek to cheek. But, that wasn’t who I saw show up to my place that afternoon. The boy in front of me was broken, scarred, and bleeding out in pain from the demons of his mind.

  It was clear that the person he showcased to the world was all an act.

  The boy who lay in my bed that night was the real Landon. The broken Landon.

  The boy who lost his father and blamed himself.

  When he woke up in the middle of the night, I was still awake.

  He turned over to me and gave me a sloppy smile. “Hey.”

  “Hey. You okay?” He gave me another smile, and I shook my head. “Only truths, no lies.”

  His smile faded away and he brushed a finger beneath his nose. “No,” he confessed. “I’m not okay.”

  I placed my forehead to his and brushed my mouth against his lips. “Tell me what you need?”

  “You,” he whispered, placing a hand against the nape of my neck. His tongue slid across my bottom lip before he sucked it lightly. “I need you.”

  So, that was what I gave him. I gave him me—all of me. He undressed me and owned my body, swallowing me whole. My back arched from his touches and his trailing fingers, to him sucking and nibbling at my nipples.

  As Landon slid into me, I almost cried out from the pleasure of it all. Gosh, I missed him. I missed his touch, his kisses, his warmth. But also, the way we made love felt different that night. Almost as if a part of him was shut off, and he was moving in overdrive. As he pulled my hair and pinned me down, it became clear to me that we weren’t making love that night. He was fucking me, raw, and hard, and deep, and fast.

  I moaned in desire, knowing the way he took control of my body was concerning, but, still, it felt so good. I selfishly wanted him to use me until his pain went away. If loving me gave him a few seconds away from the demons in his mind, I wanted to allow him to swallow me whole. If I could make him feel good, I’d do whatever it took.

  Because I loved him, and I knew of his struggles. Come morning we could talk. We could explore his thoughts and make sure we were on the same page. I could listen to his problems and help him through them all, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

  The only problem with that was when I awakened the next morning, he was gone. Leaving me only with a note left against his pillow saying he was sorry.

  Landon seemed to be working a lot, using that as an excuse to not deal with his emotions. It was easy for him to shut himself off from his pro
blems if he embodied a character, and I figured that was exactly what he was doing: shutting off his feelings up until the time they became too much and he’d end up on my doorstep.

  Every few weeks, he’d find his way back to me, and he’d take another piece of me with him when he left. He made love to me hard and deep, never speaking a word about the mess of his mind. Then come morning, he’d be gone.

  Months passed by without hearing from him at all, and worry began creeping into my stomach all over again. The new year came and went without a word from him, Valentine’s danced by, and I didn’t have a sweetheart to celebrate it with.

  “He’s probably just busy with work,” Raine reasoned one night as she, Tracey, and I sat in the dining room eating Chinese food and doing homework.

  “It doesn’t take that much to send a freaking text message,” Tracey argued. “I think he’s playing games.”

  “Tracey!” Raine gasped, smacking her arm. “How could you even say that?”

  “It’s not that far outside the realm of possibility. He’s working with the likes of Sarah Sims. She’s only the most beautiful person alive. Could you blame him if he stepped out?”

  “Of course, you could blame him,” Raine remarked. “But he won’t because he’s Landon, and he loves Shay.”

  “I’m just saying, the temptation will be there. It’s not even like they are a real couple. They hardly even see each other, and when they do, he’s super emo. I could see why he’d want something that’s right there in his face.”

  “If you keep talking like this, I’m going to pull out your weave,” Raine threatened.

  I hadn’t said a word because I didn’t even know what I was thinking. Mainly, all I knew was that I was growing a bit embarrassed by the whole situation. I felt like the more time that passed, the more I was resembling my own mother—standing by the window, waiting for a man to come back to me. Then he’d come, take, and leave again.

  The girls continued to talk about me as if I wasn’t there, and in some ways, I wasn’t. My mind was far away from my studies, Chinese food, and my friends’ chatter.

  “I mean, honestly,” Tracey said, shoving an egg roll into her mouth, “they hardly ever even talked on the phone.”

  “What does that matter? Some people don’t like talking on the phone,” Raine argued.

  “But they are long distance. It’s weird, that’s all. It’s like you’re settling, Shay.”

  “What the hell, Tracey? What crawled into your butt and left a parasite?” Raine remarked in response to her harsh comments.

  “All I’m saying is she deserves more than what he’s giving her, which is crumbs. It’s kind of pathetic to watch. I couldn’t imagine wasting my time pining for a boy who didn’t think I was good enough to even text back, and then he just comes to bang and dash. Maybe the fame went to his head, and he figures he can have whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Either way, it’s crap. I mean, does he even talk to you when he comes, or is it just sex?”

  I wished I could say it wasn’t only sex, but that would’ve been a lie.

  Tracey was right. I knew she and I had butted heads a few times throughout the years, but her words were spot-on this time. I’d emailed and texted Landon numerous times, and I hadn’t received one reply.

  Not. A. Single. Reply.

  But when he’d show up to my front porch, I’d foolishly let him back in—the same way Mom let Dad in for so many years.

  What was I doing?

  Who was I becoming?

  9

  Shay

  Twenty-one years old

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come to the party tonight?” Tracey asked me one Saturday night in April, tearing my attention away from my computer. “It is the spring fling, after all. Come on, Shay. I can’t think of anything that would be better for you. Booze, dancing, boys.” She put an emphasis on the word boys, and I was quick to pick up on it.

  I sat at my desk with my legs folded like a pretzel. “I don’t think I’m going to make it tonight. I have to study for a big exam coming up.”

  “Orrr you could study Jason Hopps.” She smirked, walking over to nudge me in the arm. “You know he’s been crazy about you forever. When are you going to give him a real shot?”

  I smiled at my friend who’d been trying to play my fairy godmother by setting me up with Jason. We’d met the previous year during our creative writing course. When we were paired together to work on a short story, we developed a great friendship. Sure, I was aware that Jason had feelings for me. He’d straight-out told me the previous year at a party, then six months later at another party, and two months after that during yet another hang out, but I didn’t feel right returning the sentiment when my heart wasn’t fully free for someone to take.

  It still belonged to a broken boy who’d disappeared from my life.

  Even though I hadn’t heard from him in so long. It had been three months since Landon had last contacted me. After months of silence, I knew it was stupid that I still loved him. Even though I’d been ghosted, I didn’t know how to shut it off, especially on that day of all days. His birthday. Landon had always found his way to me on his birthday, be it in person or at least with a phone call.

  “Jason and I are just friends,” I told her as I opened my laptop. “I don’t want to mess with that.” Plus, even though I hadn’t heard from Landon in so long, I was still his—at least in my heart, I was.

  “Why not?” she groaned, exhausted by me always pushing Jason away. “He’s perfect. He’s hot, he’s smart, he smells like Christmas morning, and he loves his mother, but not in a creepy way where he’ll need therapy. Plus, rumor has it his gold member is solid, thick gold. What more could you want from a guy?!”

  “I know Jason is amazing. Trust me, I know, but I just don’t see him that way.”

  “That’s because you’re not looking. Please don’t tell me that it’s because of Landon. Shay. He’s gone, and you deserve the right to move on. You’re not still waiting for him, are you?”

  “No, I’m not,” I lied, and she could tell it was a lie, too.

  Tracey sighed, slapping her hand to her forehead. “Shay. You know I love you, but this is setting women back five thousand years. I don’t get what kind of hold this guy has on you, but he’s not worth it. I couldn’t care less if he’s some hot up-and-coming celebrity. That doesn’t give him the right to treat you like trash.”

  “Maybe Tracey is right, Shay,” Raine said, joining the conversation. That was shocking to me. Raine had always been in Landon’s and my corner, so to hear her say those words felt like a dagger to my heart.

  “You guys don’t understand. It’s complicated with him,” I said, and I felt like an idiot as the words escaped my lips.

  “Love isn’t supposed to be this complicated, Shay. The way he treats you. The way he ignores you for months at a time. That’s not love. That’s abuse,” Raine said. “I know he’s like a brother to me, but wrong is wrong, and he’s doing you wrong.”

  I clammed up after she said that. I felt my walls closing in as my friend spoke to me about how Landon wasn’t a good thing for me, but she didn’t know. She didn’t understand the way our hearts ticked whenever we were near each other. She didn’t understand why Landon’s and my connection was bigger than a normal kind of love.

  We were messy, and broken, and complex, and beautiful.

  Besides, one day he’d finish finding himself, and he’d come back to me one hundred percent. He had almost been there before his father passed away, so he’d be able to do it again. I knew he would. He’d just hit a bump in the road, but he’d figure it out.

  I blinked my eyes shut, listening to my own thoughts, ashamed of them and ashamed of myself.

  What was I doing? How had I gotten here? How had I put myself in a position to sound so much like the person my mother used to be? Waiting around for a man to love me fully, waiting for a man to come back for me.

  “Maybe I’ll come out tomorrow,” I offered, hop
ing that would give my friends a bit of hope.

  They both sighed, and Raine went to retrieve her purse. “Okay. Text us later if you change your mind.”

  “Will do.”

  The girls were right about everything, which was why I was counting on Landon to message me at some point. The only reason I knew he was alive and well was because of my internet searches on him. His career seemed to be doing all right still, but that didn’t help me any. I knew I couldn’t keep the madness going because I was becoming a person I hardly recognized anymore. I was becoming a girl I claimed I would never be. I was becoming desperate for a man to give me his love.

  I waited with bated breath for Landon to reach out to me.

  My self-esteem suffered more and more with each moment that passed. I needed answers from him. I needed him to let me in, to tell me what we were—what we planned on becoming. I needed his future, or I needed to let go of our past.

  My heart couldn’t live in this game of limbo much longer. We needed to have the talk, and we had to do it face to face. Or at least on a telephone call. Anything. I needed answers, and I prayed Landon would be man enough to give them to me.

  I spent the rest of the night waiting for that knock at my door. Waiting for that boy to be standing on the other side. Waiting for him to be ready for me, all of me. Waiting for him to say that he wasn’t going to leave again any time soon and was ready to open up to me emotionally.

  It was almost one in the morning when I gave up the hope of Landon coming and knocking on my door. I didn’t know why I’d waited for him for so long. I didn’t know why I allowed him to have such control over me, such a strong pull on my heart, but when that knock arrived at two in the morning, I opened the door and smiled when I saw that broken boy standing in front of me.