Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I took out my earbuds, put the phone on speaker and set it on the vanity, then perched on the edge of the tub. The cast iron was cold and solid through my damp running tights, but my stomach tumbled in free fall. Fortunately, Zane answered on the first ring.
“Thank fuck,” he blurted, sounding relieved. “Landry, I’m sorry.”
My palms slipped against the edge of the tub. “You… pardon?”
“I’m sorry.” The voice that had sold a bajillion albums sounded hoarse and congested, like he’d been crying. “I should never have ended the conversation with you the way I did. I was pissed off, but I just kept thinking what if something happened to you and that was the last thing I’d ever said, and—”
“Zane.” My own voice came out cracked. The steel box of my emotions was showing serious wear and tear. Fuck. “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, okay? I should have told all of you the truth before you read about it online.” I blew out a breath. “I should have told you a long time ago.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asked in a small voice. “I… I thought about it a lot after we got off the phone. I realized you never told us shit about your past. You never lied, at least, not that I can remember. And maybe we were the ones who jumped to all the conclusions—”
“Yeah, and I didn’t correct you,’’ I admitted. “I didn’t know how.”
I took a deep breath and stood to pace. “In the beginning, I was so scared of being found out, I tried to be as different from Everett Davencourt as possible so no one would guess the truth. So I let myself become Landry Davis—a guy who said what he thought without worrying that it would reflect badly on his family, and didn’t hide that he was smart, and didn’t only get invited to parties because some kid’s dad wanted a favor from the earl. And it turned out, being Landry—being judged for who I was and not where I came from—was really fucking amazing.”
“I get that,” Zane said. “Not wanting to be judged by where you came from. Pretending things are fine when they’re not.”
“I know you do.” I leaned on the countertop with my eyes closed, but tears still burned behind my lids. “That’s why I liked you so much from the very beginning. We come from polar opposite places, but we’re the same that way.”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“And the friendships I found with you and the other guys… I’d never had that before. I’d been an awkward, spotty kid who’d grown up under a spotlight. I’d learned to pretend I was fine and keep everyone at a distance so they couldn’t see the lie for what it was. Then suddenly, I was drinking Scotch on a snowy winter’s day with these four amazing guys who thought I was funny and cool—”
Zane let out a watery chuckle. “Eh. Debatable.”
“What? Please,” I scoffed, trying not to laugh myself. “You were in awe of my cool.”
He laughed harder. “Pretty sure no one who’s actually cool uses the phrase ‘in awe of my—’”
“Shut it, Zane. I’m attempting emotion here, okay?”
“Poor Landry,” he teased. “Does it burn?”
“Ahem. As I was saying… suddenly, I was drinking Scotch with these three amazing guys and Zane—”
He laughed again, and this time, it sounded like a melody.
“You guys taught me what friendship was supposed to be about,” I continued more seriously. “You taught me it was possible to have someone care about me without knowing who my family was. That it didn’t matter who my family was. Then you guys and Kenji became my family. And for years, I’ve been terrified that if you found out the truth, you’d hate me for not telling you sooner, or you’d think differently of me, and I’d be alone again. So I…”
“Kept it a secret?” he said. “I get that, too. Landry, man, our whole Brotherhood has been keeping a secret for years. But you’re not supposed to keep them from us, dumbass.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I figured that out.” I stretched my neck from side to side and finally opened my eyes. Late-afternoon sunlight I hadn’t even registered earlier shone through the window, and the room seemed brighter than it had before.
“You should know by now that we’d love you no matter where you came from, Landry,” Zane went on. “You’re a hard worker. And smart. And kind. And yes, cool. But those things probably came from somewhere. From someone. And that’s important, too.”
I stared at the old brass fitting on the window clasp, fashioned into the shape of an elephant long ago. They’d been a gift to one of my ancestors from a visiting Indian diplomat as a symbol of protection for our home, and every window in my suite had them. My hand knew the shape of them without looking, the way they retained winter’s chill even in summer. The metallic scent they left on my fingers. The cock-eyed stare of the one closest to my favorite spot in the window seat.