Ninety. Oh God. Oh hell, I...I completely forgot, and ninety’s the big one. Ninety’s the one where you know you won’t have them for another decade, but you hope anyway and celebrate like it’s not all downhill and scary from there. I'd wanted to pick out something really nice for Gamma’s ninetieth, and yet I’ve been so wrapped up in my own mess that I completely forgot.
Add bad granddaughter to my growing list of faults, too.
“Sorry,” I mumble, and the next thing I know the counter is blurry in front of me and my nostrils are burning and I can’t make heads or tails of anything when everything inside me is constricting. “I’m sorry, I-I –”
And that’s when the tears hit.
Snotty, sniffly, ugly-cry tears, slamming into me like a sledgehammer and coming out on a coughing sob. I cover my mouth, trying to whimper another apology, but all that spills out is these wretched, awful sounds. Steve makes a panicked noise.
“Kenna? McKenna, what’s wrong? It's – Jesus, sis. It’s just a card. You didn't murder anybody, don't worry, I’ll pick one out for you if that'll help –”
“Steve, it’s n-not th-tha...”
“Then what's going down, baby sister?” His voice softens. Calming. Soothing. “C’mon, Kenna. Talk to me. Let it out.”
I take several breaths, quick and deep, trying to get myself under control until I’m not stammering and hitching with every word.
“Everything, Steve.” I croak out finally. “My publisher just rejected my latest novel. My rent’s going up. I can’t meet a single man who isn’t like some creepy carbon copy of Ryan Seacrest. I’m so cursed I might as well be a black cat, and my life is shit. It’s just shit and I don’t know what to do.”
The last part is a wail that makes even me cringe, but Steve takes it all in stride. He always does.
He’s older than me by a few years, almost thirty, but with his bright cheer you’d think he was the younger one. He’s like a Labrador or Golden Retriever or something. Just scratch behind his ears and his world is all good. And if you're hurt, he comes running.
“You’re not cursed,” he says with more confidence than I could ever muster. “You’re going to be fine. Everyone has bad streaks. The important thing is to make a plan and get through it. You’re great at planning, remember?”
“Right. Just fabulous. The last time I planned a family vacation, we ended up sleeping in a stable in Nepal. With goats. Remember?”
“That was an AirBnB mixup, not yours.” He laughs. “Look, sis, you need to recharge your batteries before you write your next book. So why not stop worrying about rent and get away to the beach?”
I snort. “Sure, I have beach money lying around. I’ll just live on my wealthy rich kid trust fund for a few months.”
“Okay, smartass,” he teases gently. “But I’m serious. I know a place you can hang out. Look, it’s just a few hours north of L.A., like twenty minutes north of the bay in Sausalito. You can drive there in less than a day. An old friend has this place on the beach where you can stay in the guest house rent free.”
I tilt my head, eyeballing the bottle of Moscato. It’s calling me, but I’m trying to resist its lure. It won't help me. Steve, on the other hand...
“No such thing as rent free,” I tell him. “Where's the catch?”
“Nah, no catch. Friends helping friends, that’s all. You remember Landon, right? My best friend? How we were always over at his place when Mom and Dad were traveling?”
I remember.
I remember hard enough to drop a stone on my heart, and the bottle of Moscato’s suddenly in my hand like a woman dying of thirst while I take a deep swig.
Holy hell, Landon Strauss. I could live ten more lifetimes and I'd never, ever forget that name.
“Nope!” I say as soon as I swallow. “Sorry, Steve, but no.”
Landon Strauss isn't someone I need to be around. He’s just a dark memory.
But wasn't it that memory of blue eyes and how starry-eyed he made me feel that led to a completely foolish decision tonight?
Once upon a time, I had the worst crush on Landon Strauss. More than a crush, actually.
I was crazy mad in love with him, and how he’d spin me all around until I was ecstatic and floating, the next I was small and awkward and ready to crawl in a hole and die.
I don’t want that feeling back. The nerd next door, glasses and all. Annoying baby sister tagging along everywhere.
I'm also not ready to revisit that unspeakable, unholy thing that happened the day my crush on Landon ended. That stupid, dark, soul shocking thing that transformed him into someone else right before my eyes.
Not just no. Hell no!
I’ve grown into myself and I’m now McKenna Burke, successful romance author.
But to Landon, I’ll always be that annoying child who stuck her nose where it didn’t belong, and uncovered secrets I never should've seen the day I picked up his damn journal when he wasn't looking.
I’ll always be the girl who knows something damning I can never believe, but that could ruin him if I ever opened my mouth.
He hates me. And I should hate him.
And he sure as hell won’t want me living on his property anytime this century.
“Kenna? Why not? What's the big deal?” Steve asks, pulling me back from my memory-misted past and into my wine-fogged present. “Hey, it’s not like he’s going to invade your fortress of solitude or anything. You’ll have plenty of free writing time. He won’t even be there most of the time.”
“Why not?”
“His security company’s really taking off. He's a busy dude. Enguard, remember? That's the name. So, he’s away on jobs most of the time. He’s had a few beach bums and prowlers squatting on his property, I guess, and he said he needs to take care of the cats and make sure kids don't mess around. Really, you’d be doing him a favor. Keep an eye on the place, do a little writing, and soak up the beach without paying a dime of rent. No big scary neighbors from the past up in your space.”
I make a noncommittal sound under my breath.
I can’t possibly be considering this, but I have to admit, it does sound tempting. Life rent-free, a place to get my head together, away from the too-familiar rush of L.A.
If it’s possible to get cabin fever from an entire city, I’ve got it.
Still, it's Landon.
“What do you say, sis?” Steve presses.
I sigh. “Give me time. I'll think about it, okay? It’s not really as easy as packing up and taking off. Let's talk later.”
Except it is that easy, if I want it to be, I realize as I hang up the phone.
It’s exactly that easy.
It’s not like I haven’t done it before, only this time I’d be doing it without hungry landlords nipping at my heels. Hell, half my stuff is still in boxes from the last move. I never bothered unpacking because I didn't feel secure.
I can’t possibly be considering this. But the opportunity is too good to ignore, and maybe...
Maybe I need closure.
Maybe he does, too.
I owe Landon an apology, at least. A few words to clear the air. I can tell him I’m sorry, purify the bad blood between us, promise him I’ve kept his secrets, be an adult and hope he’s willing to be one, too.
As I go to bed, I tell myself I'm not doing anything on heartbreak and cheap wine.
But by morning, I’ve already left notice for my landlord that I’m terminating my lease, and I’ll be back in thirty days for my things.
The next thing I know, I’m packing.
Sun, sand, and some time alone to screw my head on straight.
All I have to do is write the perfect book, and I’ll be back in the game and able to take care of myself again. It’s not like, if things go wrong with me and Landon, I have to deal with him very much.
Okay. Okay, I tell myself as I stuff a sports bra and yoga pants into a duffel bag.
Let’s do this.
No hesitations, and no regrets.
I'm going to get over Landon and everything dark in my life, or else.
2
Little More Than a Fig Leaf (Landon)