The white exterior with black shutters looks like a picture from a history book. It isn’t a farmhouse at all, really, but an old, plantation-style home that’s been in the Landry family for decades. We celebrate everything here—holidays, birthdays, contract executions, and political wins. It’s the epicenter of our family just outside of Savannah’s city limits.
A smile twists my lips as I spy my wife’s SUV pulled up in front of the house. I haven’t seen her since before the sun came up this morning, and knowing she’s just a centerfielder’s throw away has my feet tapping against the floorboard.
“Problem?” Barrett asks, glancing at my foot.
“Nah. Just saw that Dani’s here.”
“You do live with her, right?” Graham asks, looking at me over his shoulder. “You see her every day, I’m assuming.”
“Yeah, I see her every day. I had to leave early this morning and I think she’d been up most of the night with Ryan. I just want to check on her.”
“For a second, I was afraid you were going to tell us she wised up and left your ass,” Ford jokes. His head ducks forward, anticipating the half-punch I toss his way. Laughing, he rocks the golf cart back and forth. “Settle down back there.”
“If you throw me out of this thing, I’ll have Troy beat your ass,” Barrett says, grabbing on to the railing beside him.
“Does that mean you’re admitting you can’t?” Ford asks.
“Hell, no! It just means I have people to do the dirty work for me.”
“We know. You’re a politician,” I say with a snort.
“Was a politician. I’m retired. Living the easy life.”
“That means you’re old.” I point out. “First step is retirement. Next step is needing a pill to—”
Ford cuts the wheels so sharply I almost fall out of the golf cart. It’s a good thing, though, because I’m fairly certain Barrett was going to try to push me out of the other side.
“Sometimes I think you’re all toddlers.” Graham rolls his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Ford.”
“What? Did that mess up your polo shirt?” Ford grins. “Relax a little, G. Here. I’ll help.” He jerks the wheel again—the other way this time—almost knocking Graham and Barrett onto the lawn. Unfortunately for Ford, our father is standing on the porch.
Our father and I have never been the best of friends. He’s more of a stickler for the rules, whereas I like to think rules are meant to be broken. However, the look he gives Ford makes me envious. With nothing more than a dipped chin and set jaw aimed Ford’s way, the golf cart slows, and I bow to our father’s skills. I couldn’t pull that off as a dad. I’m a sucker.
“Sorry, Dad,” Ford shouts as we roll to a stop just below our dad. “There are some gopher holes out there, and I—”
“He’s lying,” I chime in. “He was trying to knock Barrett off. You should probably do something about that, Dad. Your all-American over there is trying to kill your golden boy.”
“Someone jealous?” Ford asks.
“Me? Jealous of you? Delusions.”
“Delusions are you thinking that hole in one was award worthy,” Barrett laughs.
Graham trudges up the stairs and tosses Dad a look. “You’re lucky they’re all still alive.”
We form a line and follow Graham toward the house. My heartbeat picks up, strumming wildly as I anticipate Dani just a few feet away. Then, like the asshole he is, my father halts my plans.
With a chuckle, he clamps down onto my shoulder. It’s a veiled warning to stay put. “Let me know when dinner’s ready, boys. I’m gonna talk to Linc for a minute.”
“But . . .” I look at the door and then back to him.
“It’ll just take a few minutes, Lincoln.”
Fucking wonderful.
Two
The door closes behind Barrett. It’s just my father and I on the porch. The ferns my mother loves are evenly spaced on their hooks and sway with the breeze. I used to love sitting on the swing, a piece of candy I stole from one of my brothers in hand as I watched them go back and forth as a kid.
Today, though, it’s mildly irritating. My wife is inside, and I haven’t kissed her in maybe twelve hours. I had Ellie go check on her this afternoon. She took Ryan for a bit so Dani could get a nap. She thinks she has to do everything herself and hates asking for help, but her lack of taking care of herself is killing me.
Ryan is my world. A perfect mix of Danielle and me, there isn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do for that kid. I’d fight a bull, swim with sharks, swallow fire. But Dani is what makes everything possible. She’s my rock. My heart. My fucking soul.
Her ass isn’t bad either.
I adjust my cock.
“What’s up, Dad?” I ask, contemplating how quickly I can get him to say his piece and get out of here. He looks serious, so that isn’t giving me the warm and fuzzies. These situations usually end with me being read a list of things I’m screwing up.
Sigh.
He moseys his way to the railing and leans against it as if we have all the time in the world. I drop onto the swing in the most nonchalant way possible. If he gets any sense at all I’m trying to rush him, he’ll drag this out for hours.
“Well, Linc. I need your help.”
Jaw. Hits. Floor. “Um, are you feeling okay?”
“Yes.” His brows pull together. “Why?”
“You do realize I’m Lincoln, right? Your youngest son. Not Barrett, the former governor of Georgia. Not Ford, the American hero. Not Graham, the CEO of our lives.”
“I realize who you are. The biggest pain-in-the-ass I have. I haven’t lost my mind.”
“Clearly, you have if you’re asking me for help.” I laugh. “You haven’t ever asked me for help . . . except the time you needed tickets to the baseball championship. I think you even said ‘please’.”
“I—”
“I’m not complaining.” I hold my hands in front of me, adding, “I’ve had a lot of free time and got out of a lot of boring political shit. So, I guess, thank you for never needing me.” A series of memories rolls through my mind of college and various parties I went to. Get-togethers as a professional athlete. Drinks, laughs, women. While I wouldn’t trade my life now for a lifetime of that again, I am quite fond of those memories. “Yes, thank you. I mean that.”
Dad shoves off the railing and sits beside me. His hands clasp together as he rests his forearms on his knees in a move that reminds me exactly of Graham. As he stares off across the lawn, a ghost of a smile plays on his lips.
“We’ve had a lot of good times out here, haven’t we?” he asks quietly. “I remember when you threw that pitch that busted Barrett in the eye. Remember that?”
“Yup,” I say with a pop on the p. “In my defense, I warned him it was going to curve like a motherfucker. He didn’t trust me.”
Dad grins. “Remember when your sisters wanted to camp that Fourth of July? And Ford and I put up a little tent over there under that tree?” He points to a large maple near the side of the house. “Sienna was afraid her ice would melt, and Camilla needed to take lotion. I knew they’d never make it all night.”
“And then Ford and I went out there in the middle of the night and scared the shit out of them?”
A slow chuckle ripples across the patio as Dad sits upright. “I hope Ryan is just like you.”
“Oh, he is,” I say. “He’s cute as hell. Can already throw a ball really well even though he’s still a baby. And you can’t take him anywhere without women stopping to gawk. A chip off the old block.”
Dad just shakes his head. “Let’s see how that works out for you in ten years or so.”
Suddenly, I get what he’s saying. My hands scrub down my face as I envision calls from principals and busted glass from baseballs and girls showing up at the house while he has another one upstairs in his bedroom that his parents don’t know about. Me.
I’m his parent.
Oh, shit.
I force a swallow. “I’ve been considering boarding school . . .”
Dad’s laugh is loud. His chest rumbles as his hand smacks my thigh. “You’re gonna be fine, Linc.”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.” He settles down and leans back in the swing. “Your mother and I have been doing a little estate planning.”
“You aren’t dying, are you?” The words come out of my mouth before I can catch them. “That was really rude if you are, but let’s cut the crap, Dad.”