Zaire’s heart was pumping fast enough that the nurses would have been rushing in to check on her if she were still hooked up to the monitor back at the hospital. “Salem, this is bad. He definitely can’t come to your little party.”
But Salem must have seen the confusion in her expression because she giggled. “Too late. You already said yes. So now I just have to see if Kacy is available. Oh, I didn’t even think of that! What if she’s not available? He can’t come and be the only single person there. That would be totally awkward.”
Salem was obviously doing her level best to return the conversation to safer footing and Zaire decided to let her. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that with the motley crew you seem set on inviting.”
“I guess that’s true enough.”
Zaire didn’t have any more energy for the planning. She let Salem’s words melt into a soft drone in the distance until the jostle of the cattle gate that was a leftover relic of a by-gone era in Zaire’s neighborhood jostled her awake. Her home was one of her favorite havens. Nestled on the shore of Wintergreen Lake just three miles outside of town, it was close to amenities, and yet felt like a secluded sanctuary at the same time. As Salem pulled onto her long cobblestone driveway, Zaire could only feel relief to see her own place.
Salem pulled in next to Zaire’s SUV which sat before one of the double garage’s doors.
She had a fleeting thought of thankfulness to see that it wasn’t still out by the caves, but didn’t have the energy to ask if Salem knew how it got here. She smiled at her friend. “Thanks for bringing me home. I appreciate it. Call me tomorrow. Maybe after some sleep I’ll be able to help better with the planning.” She opened her door.
“Wait, let me walk you up the stairs. You really don’t look so good.”
Landon appeared at her door. “I’ve got her, Salem. Thanks.”
Where had he come from?
As she stepped from the car, she saw that he’d parked behind her SUV. He must have climbed in his car the moment he got Salem’s text, and followed them up the drive. His mother just lived another three miles around the lake.
Her head went woozy and she rested a hand on the top of Salem’s car to maintain her balance.
And when Landon scooped her up into his arms to carry her up her front stairs, she didn’t even have the energy to protest.
CHAPTER 13
Landon’s heart constricted in his chest when Zaire rested her head against his shoulder and made no protest against his help. When he reached the door, he noticed that she’d painted it a soft turquoise, which contrasted nicely with the butter yellow they’d painted the place when they’d first moved in. He also realized that he didn’t have keys.
“Hey, I need your house keys.” He set Zai on her feet, keeping his voice soft and low.
But instead of pulling out keys, she simply opened the front door and walked in.
He felt his jaw drop a little. “You just left the door unlocked?”
She kicked her shoes into the basket she’d always kept by the front door for them and gave him a sleepy little frown. “This is Riversong. No one locks their doors.”
He clenched his teeth, knowing that was true enough and yet not liking the fact that she followed the practice as a single woman. And whose fault is that, genius? He wouldn’t harangue her about it now. They could talk about it later when he could come up with a kind and loving way to say it.
On the way home from Wenatchee, he’d thought through his plan of attack. And displeasure and reprimands hadn’t even made the list. Thankfully, he’d just been pulling back into town when he’d seen Salem’s text, because no matter her stubborn insistence to the contrary, he really didn’t think Zaire should be on her own right now.
She started up the stairs, but stopped only one step up and turned to look at him apologetically, like she was trying to decide if she needed to play hostess. He remembered how she used to pause on the first step, turn and wrap her arms around his neck, and lingeringly kiss him. The memory of it drew his gaze to those soft full lips of hers and he swallowed.
She shifted uneasily.
He tore his focus to the floor near his feet and waved her on up the stairs. “Go. Rest. I’ll get comfortable in the living room. Oakland is playing the Seahawks tonight, so I’ll make myself at home. Call me if you need anything.”
A small frown furrowed her brow like she was contemplating the ramifications of having him stay here. But list or no list, if he had to get tough he would. He wasn’t about to let her stay alone. Especially not as tipsy as she’d been when she stepped out of Salem’s car just a minute ago. If she fell, he wanted to be within the sound of it.
Her voice was soft when she spoke. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
He shook his head and held her gaze so she could see how serious he was. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
She tucked her lower lip between her teeth. “Maybe I should just go stay at Mom and Dad’s.”
“I’ll drive you if that’s what you want to do.” It was probably what she should do, because old Mrs. Lannister, their next-door neighbor—Zaire’s next-door neighbor, he reminded himself—most likely had a pair of binoculars that she used to spy on her neighbors through the trees. Though no one had ever been able to prove it. The woman would probably have it spread all over town by nine AM if he spent the night on Zaire’s couch.
Giving a little yawn, Zaire spun and started up the stairs once more. She threw a succinct wave over her shoulder. “Go, Seahawks.”
He grinned and stayed where he was, watching to make sure she made it to the top of the stairs safely. The Seahawks had always been their team when they were kids. Maybe he shouldn’t tell her that he was also partial to the Raiders now, since he’d lived in California for the past couple years.
Seeing that she had made it safely to the top of the stairs, he checked his watch. Still fifteen minutes till the game started. He headed toward the kitchen to see what she had to snack on. He’d put off his plans to grab a sandwich from Golden Loaves when he’d gotten that text from Salem.
He found a bag of tortilla chips in the cupboard, and a jar of cheese in the fridge. There was also a bag of extra-butter flavored popcorn. He tossed that in the microwave and poured himself a glass of iced tea. When the popcorn finished, he dumped it into a bowl, then gathered everything up and headed for the couch.
He set the snacks close to hand and got comfortable. The commentators were just announcing the opening kickoff as he turned the TV on. Oakland’s returner caught the ball and made a respectable run back to the forty-two-yard line. “Yes!” he whispered, remembering to keep his voice down. He stuffed a handful of warm popcorn in his mouth, and that was when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
He turned to look. Zaire padded towards him in a pair of shorts and a blue Seahawks T-shirt that accentuated the blue of her eyes. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she hadn’t bothered with any makeup—just the way he liked her, though come to think of it he realized he’d never told her that. “You look beautiful.”
“Right.” She angled him a look as she grabbed the quilted throw off the chair she passed and plunked herself down onto the couch beside him, tucking the blanket over her feet and legs.
He grinned at her. “I never lie.”
Her lashes lowered and a pink tinge touched her cheeks.
Satisfied that he’d taken the first step in his newly formed plan, he let the subject drop. He was wondering what had brought her downstairs, however. At his questioning look she shrugged. “You didn’t think you could make popcorn and be watching Monday night football without tempting me back downstairs, did you?”
He grinned and held the bowl away from her. “Who said I made any of this for you?”
She batted her lashes. “Since I’m in no condition to fight you for it, I’ll have to resort to using my feminine charms, such as they are.”
Landon felt the grin slip from his lips. The woman had absolutely
no idea how tempting she was. He leaned close and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek with the back of one finger. “Your feminine charms are a lot stronger than you realize.”
She blinked up at him, so near that he could see the silver flecks in the blue of her eyes. “And yet you still haven’t shared,” she replied softly.
He wanted to share, alright. But not popcorn. He wanted to share soft kisses, and breath, and… But he needed to take this slow. Show her that she was more important to him than just a physical attraction. He eased back and held the bowl out to her, forcing his attention back to the game that he no longer cared about.
Zaire’s heart was beating so fast she could feel the throb of it in her arm. What was she even doing down here? Popcorn and football had simply been an excuse, and she was a masochist for even stepping into this room with this man.
Everywhere she looked in this room, memories lingered. There in the far corner, when they’d first moved in, she’d been putting the finishing touches on the ‘blue as the sea’ paint job, when Landon had slipped up behind her and started dropping kisses against the curve of her neck. At the fireplace they had roasted marshmallows for s’mores in the summers, and roasted chestnuts at Christmastime. And right here on the couch they’d—
Okay. That’s enough. She stood and handed Landon the bowl of popcorn.
“Where you going? You okay?”
“I’m fine. I just need some Tylenol.”
He scrambled to his feet. “Sit. Sit. I’ll get it for you.”
“No, it’s okay. I can—”
“Sit.” There was no give in the word. When she complied. he winked at her. “Be right back. Cheer for the Raiders while I’m gone.”
Zaire pulled in a steadying breath as he disappeared up the stairs. After just a moment, she had the presence of mind to holler. “Sack him, Bennett!”
“Hey!” Landon protested from the top of the stairs.
Zaire grinned and rested her head into the softness of the couch. It was the loneliness that had brought her downstairs. Ever since the day he’d packed his bags and walked out the front door, she’d been swimming in a sea of loneliness. And she had to admit that it felt nice to have someone here to share the evening with. Even if she’d much rather be watching the game on her iPad from beneath the warmth of her comforter.
The realization dried out her mouth and made sweat break out on her palms. Because if she let him back in, even the tiniest fraction of a smidge, and then he walked away again, she didn’t know if she could handle that. Last time she’d thought she might break, but it turned out she’d been nimble enough to simply bend with the pressure of crippling loss. But this time… She felt old and dry and brittle. This time there would be no bend. Only snap. Splinter. And crash.
Landon reappeared with a glass of water and three white pills in his hand.
She looked up at him. “I only take two.”
He nodded. “You just had lifesaving surgery. It’s not going to hurt you to take a couple of extra-strong doses when you’re in pain.”
“I guess, yeah. Thanks.” She took the pills and swallowed them down.
Landon reached between the cushions and pulled the lever to raise her feet—one of the reasons they’d both loved this couch when they bought it—all three sections reclined. Then he sank down next to her and propped up his own feet.
And then they settled into a companionable silence that had all the undertones of friendship in comradery and none of the stifling isolation that silence in this house had come to mean in the past few years.
Zai’s eyelids grew heavy. The sound of the TV grew hazy. And the comfort of the couch welcomed her.
Zaire slumped toward him and curled against his side. He stiffened for a moment, certain that she would wake and realize her mistake, but she only made a soft snuffling noise and wiggled her head, searching for a more comfortable position.
He pushed the top of the recliner back another few inches and slipped his arm behind her head. She immediately found the curve of his clavicle and nestled her cheek against him with a soft sigh of satisfaction. One small hand rested against this chest. He swallowed and pressed his lips to the top of her head, taking in the citrus and spice scent of her shampoo, and relishing the soft curve of her arm below the thick bandage that still encircled it. His other hand came up to cover hers where it rested against his chest and he dropped his head back against the couch with a soft sigh of despair.
He stared at the ceiling. God, please don’t ever let me hurt her again. I don’t know how to fix this relationship, but I know You can. Just help me to be patient and not push for my own way too hard. And help my plan to work to remind her that what we once had was good, and we could have that again.
He watched the game without really seeing it for a few minutes. The whole time he kept telling himself that he should wake her and encourage her to go upstairs. Yet he was loath to give up this bit of closeness, even if she didn’t realize she was giving it to him.
If they were still married he would have scooped her up and carried her up the stairs, but… He swallowed against the memories that invoked. As if just walking into this living room that held so many similar memories wasn’t bad enough. Why right here on this couch they’d… He coughed and reached for his iced tea to dampen the fire that was beginning to blaze inside him. Downing the whole glass didn’t help and he plunked it back onto the side table with a glower. Too bad he couldn’t reach the window without waking her because it suddenly felt like a hundred degrees in here. He chuckled at himself, which disturbed Zaire enough to make her snuggle closer to him.
That did it. He snatched up the remote, and clicked the mute button on the TV. He nudged her gently. “Zai. You should wake up and go upstairs. I think you’ll sleep more comfortably.” He would rather she stayed right here snuggled in his arms, but like Joseph of old, he knew when it was time to flee temptation. “Zai.” He spoke a little louder and nudged her again. “Wake up, babe.”
She stirred and lifted her head, blinking sleepily. Her eyes widened a little when she focused on his face so close to hers, and then she scrambled to put distance between them.
Thank you, Jesus.
She had wrinkle creases from his T-shirt embedded in her face, but he didn’t dare reach to smooth them. “Sorry to wake you. I thought you’d probably be more comfortable upstairs in our—your—room.”
Her brow furrowed. “What time is it?”
“The game’s not even to halftime yet.”
“Okay.” She left the throw in a heap on the middle cushion as she stood and headed for the stairs.
Landon dropped the foot of his recliner and leaned forward to bury his face in his hands. After a moment, he gave his face a good scrubbing, and then reached to unmute the TV. But he thought better of that. He wanted to be able to hear if she fell or something upstairs. Commentators were overrated anyhow. He would just watch the game on silent.
He’d only been sitting there for three minutes when the doorbell rang.
He sprang up to get it, hoping whoever it was hadn’t re-awoken Zai. When he yanked open the door, Mr. and Mrs. Kitzer stood on the stoop, both with a suitcase in hand.
Mrs. Kitzer’s eyes widened for a moment and then her brows slammed into a V. “What are you doing here?”
Landon might have asked them the same, but it was obvious that since Zaire wouldn’t come to them, they’d decided to come to her. He stepped back and motioned them in. “When Salem messaged me to say that Zaire had refused to come to your place, I came over. I didn’t want her to be alone.”
“I bet you didn’t,” Zaire’s mother said, as she brushed by him.
“Pam, honey, let’s at least try to get along. For Zaire’s sake.” Mr. Kitzer followed his wife, but gave Landon a sparing smile as he passed. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
“Yeah. No problem.”
There was an awkward pause as they all stood in the entry for a moment, no one knowing what to say. At one time th
is had been Landon’s home too. But it had never been the domain of the Kitzers.
Landon finally lurched into motion. “Ah, Zaire just went upstairs to sleep. She just took three Tylenol about thirty minutes ago.” He moved into the living room and punched off the TV with the remote as he spoke. “You both know where the guest bedroom is. I’m sure Zaire would want you to make yourselves at home.” That was probably actually stretching the truth a bit farther than a Christian ought to. He grabbed up his food stuffs and started toward the kitchen. “I’ll just clean this up and head on out.” He wanted to add that he’d see them in the morning, because he planned to be back to check on Zai, but he wasn’t sure the room could hold even another molecule of tension, so he kept that comment to himself, with the reminder that any ire Mrs. Kitzer directed his way was fully deserved and warranted.
“We’ll take care of her from here on out.” The woman’s words sliced into him just as he passed her in the entry once more.
Landon paused, on the verge of a retort, but managed to hold his tongue just in the nick of time. He didn’t want to fight with her. But he also wanted to make it clear that he hoped to get back together with Zai, if she would have him. After a short moment of considering, he gave her a look that he hoped held no animosity.
“Listen, I know I blew it. And I hope you believe me when I say I really am trying to be a better man, with God’s help. I also hope you’ll let Zaire make her own decisions on whether she will or won’t have me in her life again. And if she chooses to renew our relationship that you and I can once again find the mutual respect we used to have for each other.” He congratulated himself for remaining calm and matter-of-fact. Had he been too harsh? Maybe ‘mutual respect we used to have for each other’ had been a little much. He clenched his teeth and walked on before he said more and muffed it further. If he wanted her to see him as a different guy, he’d better start acting like one.
Lord, when am I ever going to get this walk with You right?
He halted on the threshold of the kitchen and spun back to face his former mother-in-law. “I’m sorry. That was a bit harsh. I truly do hope that we can one day be friends again.”
Soft Kisses and Birdsong (Riversong Book 2) Page 12
