The Truth About Love (26 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

L
andon hurdled out of Gina’s bed and stood toe-to-toe with her. No one had ever challenged him about wanting his father’s love. Not Boomer. Not Ricardo. Not even Calvin.

His jaw tightened. “And who the hell are you to be telling me how to run my life?”

“Other than the woman you just made love to?”

He glared at her, wishing he could tell her that what they’d had between them was just sex, but that wouldn’t be true. Of course, their lovemaking had meant something. It had meant everything. But she was talking about his dad here. All tactics were fair game. “Just because I have sex with you doesn’t mean you get to pass judgment on my relationship with my father.”

Her facial expression changed in slow motion, as if her natural reaction gradually won out over her desire to cover it up. Her eyes glistened. Her cheeks flushed. She was a fighter, and he’d dealt a damaging blow.

“You can’t wait around for your father for the rest of your life.” Her voice cracked.

He knew he’d hurt her, but she’d chosen to ignore his statement about their relationship. “I don’t want to talk about my father.”

“And maybe that’s why you’ve lived with this for so long. Because you’re the almighty Landon Vista.” She waved her hands in the air. “No one is going to challenge you. No one is going to question your motives. And you don’t have the balls to look in the mirror and tell yourself what you’re really doing with your life.”

Landon searched the floor for his underwear and pants and pulled them on. “I don’t have to take this from you.”

She threw her hands in the air. “Yes, because nobody ever dares to challenge Landon Vista.”

Except for her. She challenged him with just about everything she did. “And what is it you think I need to be challenged about?”

Gina stood and faced him, like a worthy opponent preparing for the final attack. “If your father was going to love you back, don’t you think he would have done it by now?”

He bent down slowly and picked up his shirt, using it as an excuse to regain his composure. He would not let her get to him like this.

He pulled the shirt on and buttoned it without looking at her. Finally, he raised his eyes to meet her gaze. “Good-bye, Gina. Good luck back in Nashville.”

Gina’s bottom lip trembled—more in anger than in sadness—but she would not cry in front of him. She marched toward her front door, eager to get him out of her apartment before she broke down in tears.

But if this was the last time she was going to see Landon, she wanted to at least get everything out in the open. To at least show him what he’d lost. To make him understand what might have happened between them.

She stopped and turned as her hand rested on the doorknob. “I thought I was in love with you.” Her jaw tightened. “Past tense.”

Sadness and surprise seemed to swirl together in his eyes. But she didn’t want to be at the mercy of those eyes. Not those damn eyes.

She opened the door and stepped aside to let him pass. “Good-bye, Landon.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

L
andon slid down in the seat of his truck to wait for the few people milling around the freshly dug grave to get in their cars. He hadn’t been to Horseshoe Lake Cemetery in seven years. Not after his last visit had caused such a ruckus and ended up as a feature story on Florida Sports TV.

But now, with everything that had changed over the last few weeks, he’d felt a need to come here. To have some quiet time to himself in the spot that had cradled Mama’s body for the last fifteen years.

Finally, the funeral on the other side of the cemetery ended. The distant mourners got in their cars and drove away. He opened the door of his truck and walked toward his mother’s grave.

Like the people who’d just left, he knew how it felt to leave a loved one here. He’d done that same thing, years ago, as a scared little boy not sure of where he’d live.

He’d felt different as a teen, when he’d come here on his own, once he was old enough to drive and had access to a car. By then he’d realized the depths of his father’s disinterest in raising a child. He’d learned to recognize the looks of pity from his classmates. And that hard lump of anger in his gut had started to grow.

Come to think of it, since the funeral, he’d never come here with anyone else. Yes, that reporter had snapped pictures of him visiting Mama’s grave on her birthday his senior year in high school. That was before he’d learned what kind of damage the media could do. When he’d been a sought-after high school recruit, but still an ignorant kid. But it wasn’t like he’d brought the reporter here with him. No, he’d never shared this place with anyone. He’d never felt like anyone would understand what he felt when he was here.

But now there was Gina. And the hard lump of anger in his gut had started to chip away on the edges.

He reached Mama’s grave and ran his fingers over the top of the humble marker. It felt hot in the Florida sun. He traced the first letter of her name with his finger, remembering how proud he’d been when he’d first learned to write both their names.

What would his mother have thought of everything that had happened the last couple of months? She’d have been angry, for sure, that Cyrus Alexander had spent so many years in prison. But she would have forgiven Landon for what he’d done to help send Cyrus there. She was that kind of woman. Kind. Forgiving. Loving.

So if she could forgive Landon for what he’d done to Cyrus, could he forgive himself? He tossed the thought around in his head like a couple of kids playing catch. He’d have to think about that one awhile.

She had never let him understand, when she was alive, that his father could have helped support them instead of ignoring his obligation to pay child support. That they didn’t have to live in squalor in the back of the country store. She’d protected him from that knowledge as fiercely as a mother bear protects her young.

If his mother could muscle through life—loving and determined and kind as she was—while knowing that Martin had tossed them away, could Landon do the same? Could he, like his mother, accept what life had handed him and go on without the big lump of anger in his gut?

He thought about Gina and how she’d started him down the path of looking at things differently. How she’d forced him to examine the question that had lurked in his subconscious for years: Did he stay in Tallahassee waiting for his father’s love? Yes, he’d been mad as hell when she made him face the truth. But after a few days of thinking about it, he knew she was right. He did need to move on with his life.

A slight smile crept across his face as he looked at the tombstone. “You would like her, Mama,” he said out loud.

The breeze, almost nonexistent in this part of Florida in the summer, kicked up, tousling his hair, just as his mother had done when he was a kid. Like a message from her, it cooled his scalp and comforted him.

Something shifted in the world. Or maybe it was in his heart. Either way, it felt like his mother was releasing him. Like she’d watched him with Gina and she approved. There was now another woman to care for him. Another woman for him to love. Another woman who would be the most important person in his life. He looked around at the trees, thickly draped with Spanish moss, and wondered if he’d ever felt so much at peace as he did right now, in this place. He took a deep, contented breath and knew that the smell of confederate jasmine would always be the scent of peace for him.

But what would his mother think of his relationship with Martin? Would she want him to keep fighting for his father’s love? Had
she
accepted the fact that Martin wasn’t ever going to be there for her or the child they’d created together? She had to have accepted that fact. Otherwise, wouldn’t Landon have picked up on her bitterness? She was the kindest, most loving person he knew. She couldn’t have faked that.

He drew in a deep breath, the smell of the jasmine filling his lungs, then exhaled. If his mother had accepted the way his father had treated them, then maybe he could, too.

He turned as another car rumbled down the gravel drive into the cemetery. He would have liked to have spent more time here with her, but he didn’t want anyone to see him. He knew he stood out. Not many men were his size.

He rushed toward his truck and got in, hoping the newcomers didn’t recognize him. Maybe he’d come back again soon. Maybe he’d bring Gina.

But for now, there was someone else in Pascaloosa County he needed to see.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

C
yrus Alexander looked much older than Landon had expected, but then, he guessed prison could do that to a man.

“Tim.” Landon nodded to the teen as he walked up the steps of their porch. His heart pounded, but he found some comfort in the fact that at least he’d met Tim before. Had thought maybe there was a connection between them.

Landon stood tall. Of all the times he needed to take responsibility for his own actions, this was one of the most important. He held out his hand to the older man. “Mr. Alexander.” As often as he’d thought about this moment in recent days, he still wasn’t sure what he should say.

Cyrus eyed him warily, but eventually stuck his hand out to meet Landon’s. It was rough and calloused. Landon wondered how he’d spent his time in prison. Lifting weights? Working a job?

“I”—Landon cleared his throat—“I don’t know what to say.” His hands crossed over his heart—not a planned motion, but one that might at least show Cyrus how sincere he was. “I’m sorry, man. I know that’ll never be enough for what I did.” His gaze dropped to the weathered floorboards of the porch and his hands fell to his sides. There was nothing he could say that could make up for the time Cyrus had lost. “I’m sorry.”

Cyrus was silent for several seconds. Tim shuffled his feet nervously. Landon looked up, wanting to see the expression on Cyrus’s face, but it told him nothing.

Finally, Cyrus spoke. His Southern drawl was more pronounced—even for someone from Pascaloosa County—than Landon had expected. “I don’t think it’s your fault, son.”

“But I testified—”

Cyrus held his hand up. Landon immediately stilled.

“I hold the police responsible.” Cyrus’s accent elongated each word. “And Maggie Buchanan. She’s the one who never told ’em her boyfriend was in town that weekend. She was more concerned with her Daddy not finding out”—his voice cracked—“than with an innocent man going to prison.”

“We saw a picture of her boyfriend,” Tim said. “He looked just like the pictures we have from when Dad was that age.”

Dad.

Landon was glad Tim could say that word with his father standing right beside him. “I’m still so sorry.” Both of their lives would have been so much different . . .

“You were nine years old.” Cyrus walked to the edge of the porch, his back to Landon and Tim. “What’s done is done.”

Landon was grateful for Cyrus’s graciousness. This could have been a scene that was a helluva lot uglier than this one had been. “Can I loan you some money?” He didn’t want to insult the guy, but he’d been in prison for fifteen years. What kind of money could he make in there? “Until you get on your feet?” He’d sure as hell rather give any extra he had to Cyrus than invest it in one of his own father’s crazy schemes.

Cyrus shook his head and turned to face Landon. “I appreciate what you done, coming by to see Tim and all. That means a lot.”

“Tim has my cell number.” Landon motioned to the boy. “Please. Call me if I can ever help with anything. If you just want to talk . . . or yell at me or something.”

“This is all so new.” Cyrus scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know what to do. What to say. How to feel.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “For now, I just want to put that whole part of my life behind me.”

“I understand.” Landon patted Tim on the shoulder. “I’ll always be there for you.” He looked at Cyrus as he headed to the stairs of the porch. “For both of you.”

Cyrus gave a single nod in reply.

Landon let out a gusty breath as he walked toward his truck. He knew how Cyrus felt. How there was no precedent here. No road map to tell him how to feel or what to think.

All he knew was that he was glad he’d looked the guy in the eyes.

Glad he’d said he was sorry.

Glad that Tim had his father back.

Gina followed her dad down the stairs of her apartment, lugging the last of the boxes they had to load into the back of his SUV.

Her mother followed behind, carrying the pot of ivy she’d given Gina the first day she’d moved into her dorm freshman year. “You’re sure you don’t need to say good-bye to Landon before you leave town?”

Gina tried to ignore the worried-mom look cast her way. “We’ve pretty much said everything we need to say to each other.”

“Suzanne seemed to think there might be some”—her mom glanced at her dad—“loose ends between the two of you.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t discuss my personal life with my boss.”
Liar.
“Isn’t that what you always told me, Daddy? Work is work and your personal life is personal?”

Her father held his hands up. “I’m staying out of this one.”

Gina rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “So I’ll leave first thing Saturday morning.” Her parents had made a trip down to take a carload of her belongings home.

“You sure you’ll have room for the rest of your stuff?” her mom asked.

“Yes, Mama.”

“And you’ll get your oil changed before you leave?” Her mom’s voice pitched a little higher.

“Dad . . .” Both she and her father knew it was a plea to get his wife to stop mothering her so much.

Her mother took her hand. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, honey.”

Oh, great. They were back to talking about Landon again. She didn’t want to talk about him. Not after she’d lain in bed every night this week thinking about their final conversation the other night after they’d made love. “I need to get going.” She motioned toward her car. “I told Suzanne I’d be in by ten.”

Her mother hugged her as if she wouldn’t ever see her again.

Her father walked around the car and hugged her, too. “You’ve done good work here, you know that?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She would always be her father’s little girl.

She waved as they exited the driveway and then got in her car to head to work. Though she’d been here only a couple of months, she was going to miss this place. Its sprawling live oaks and rolling hills would always be a part of her.

She still needed to think of a way to thank Suzanne for the experiences she’d given her. And to tell her that she’d decided not to pursue a career in this line of work. She’d done a lot of thinking about what Landon had said. She’d always known that her guilt over sending Nick Varnadore to prison had colored everything she did, but until Landon, it had never seemed like it was wrong. It had been her penitence. Her payback to the world.

At least until Landon had shown her that she needed to learn to forgive herself. That it couldn’t color every decision she made.

The forgiveness would take a while, but at least she could make different choices, starting today. She’d always be grateful that Landon had changed that trajectory of her life.

Suzanne’s Audi pulled into the small parking lot right in front of Gina’s SUV.

“You’re getting here late,” Gina said as the two got out of their cars next to each other. Her boss was normally here by seven in the morning.

“I was over at the prosecutor’s office.” Suzanne opened her car’s back door and took out the leather messenger bag. Gina wondered if the pistol was still in there.

“They said they’re done with this.” Suzanne pulled a clear plastic bag from her satchel and held it out in front of her. “I think you’ll know what to do with it.”