He pulled away, just a fraction of an inch, so that his head was on the pillow instead of nestled up against my neck. I hated it.
“It’s not up for discussion,” he said, his voice firm. Flat again, and emotionless. I hated that he was hiding himself from me, burying his feelings behind a brick wall. Like I didn’t know him better, like I couldn’t see how much this was eating at him.
“I think it would be good for you.”
“You don’t get it,” he said, anger creeping back in.
“So make me get it,” I replied, refusing to back down. I wasn’t the teenage girl he left behind, accepting any scrap of himself he’d give me.
I wanted more. I wanted to see past his stony fa?ade and know the man inside. I’d trusted him when I walked through his front door. He needed to trust me with his emotions. He owed me that.
“I don’t owe you anything,” he said, as if he could read my mind. “Least of all this.”
It was impossible to ignore the dull stab in the chest at his words. Impossible to pretend he hadn’t just gotten to the root of the reason I couldn’t trust him, the reason I was so afraid to love him.
“You think I need you to remind me of that?” I snapped. “That you owe me nothing, that I’m not something to you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his tone softening. “Of course you’re something. But this is one topic I’m not discussing with you. With anyone.”
“This isn’t even about me. It’s about you. It’s about you saying goodbye to him and moving past all of this. You’ve accomplished everything you set out to do, and yet you can’t stop pushing. He’s dead, Landon. There’s nothing left to prove.”
I knew I was being harsh. Rough. Picking at his vulnerable spots. But I would rather see him react than watch him keep pretending it wasn’t a big deal, that his father’s death was meaningless.
“You have no idea what that man was like.” I was facing the wall, couldn’t see the shadows that must’ve been in his expression, but I could hear them.
“I think I have a clue,” I said, twisting onto my back and turning to look at him. He was propped up on his arm, his broad chest left bare. “I’m not blind.”
“I’m not saying you’re blind. But when someone doesn’t want you to see something, they can do a damn good job at hiding it.”
“Hiding what?” I asked, my voice barley above a whisper. Landon never talked about this. Never opened up about his past. He was too strong, too bold to admit weakness.
“I hid everything,” he said, his voice strong, but his eyes betraying the sadness. “I hid the bruises he left on me as a kid, and the blood on my knuckles when I was old enough to defend myself. My dad was the angriest, nastiest man I’ve ever met. I refuse to do shit to honor him, because he doesn’t deserve it.”
I turned until I was fulling facing him and we were both on our sides. I reached a hand up, snaking it around his back and letting my hand glide back and forth on his shoulders. Whether to comfort him or me, I’m not sure. “Maybe it’s not about honoring him. Maybe it’s about saying goodbye to that chapter of your life and opening a new one. One free of his influence.”
The bitter sadness in his expression gutted me. Like he couldn’t even begin to picture a life where he wasn’t not haunted by his childhood abuse.
“I’m never going to be free of his influence. People in this town think I provoked him. They think I enjoyed knocking around my aging father because I had a temper problem. People still look at me like I’m an out of control twenty-year-old who likes beating on my dad. They don’t give a shit that I’ve built an empire, or brought high-paying jobs to town. They only see me as an angry kid.”
“They don’t think that.”
“Yes they do! My mom begged me not to tell anyone how abusive he was to us. So I kept my mouth shut. And everyone thought my dad was just the sweet, loving father he pretended to be.” His eyes shut for a moment, frustration seeping through, tightening in his shoulders. And then he looked at me again, imploring me to understand. “He kept pictures of us in his fucking wallet and showed it off to his work buddies. Then he’d go home and scream about how worthless I was, or throw his dinner across the room because it was cold. Never mind that he was two hours late because god forbid he come home sober.”
I didn’t know what to say. But Landon wasn’t done.