Unforgiven(13)

“Have you?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Yeah, when she first got there she called but it was really brief. We haven’t heard from her since.”
“Sounds like her.” I let out a little laugh.
“For what it’s worth, I was really happy to hear about you two. There is no one else in this world that I would trust my sister with other than you.”
I swallow hard at his admission. “Kind of a moot point now, huh?”
“Never say never,” he says quietly. “Let’s go inside. There is something I want to show you after dinner.” His face lights up with a huge smile.
“This place is insane,” I comment. “I had no idea how big it was going to be.”
“Reagan wanted a place with lots of room for visitors and… kids.”
“Kids? Is Reagan ready? Hell, are you ready for kids?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You know I’ll give her anything she wants.”
“Yeah, but is that what you want?” I ask.
“It is, when the time is right,” he answers firmly. “But right now, we’re just focused on the wedding and we like to practice making kids,” he smirks.
“Good plan.” I laugh.
Dinner was amazing. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Reagan. Even the company was nice. It was nice to be out of the confines of my stuffy house and in the real world, having normal conversations with adults instead of sulking in my pitiful misery at home. I even made plans with Melissa, Reagan’s medical assistant and mutual friend, to go hiking tomorrow. I felt guilty accepting her invitation, like it was something I shouldn’t be doing, but she’s a friend, that’s it, and it will be nice to start doing normal things again.
As we gather around the outside fireplace with our after-dinner drinks, the girls naturally circle around each other and giggle about the latest celebrity gossip while we guys gravitate toward the fire and talk sports.
“Oh, hey, I wanted to show you guys the game room,” Landon says, stepping back into the house.
“Game room?” Weston questions.
“Yeah, it’s the only room Reagan let me have complete say in.” He laughs.
“One room?” I can’t help but laugh at how much Landon has changed since his single days. “Does she carry your balls around in her purse?”
“Fuck off,” he barks at me. But we all laugh. When Landon opens the oversized interior double doors, we walk into a massive room that holds a pool table in the center of the room.
“Holy shit, man,” I say, admiring the room. It’s decorated in a sports theme with framed football jerseys and autographed pictures. There is a small wet bar in the far corner, and tall barstools that line one wall.
“Want to play?”
“Yeah!” Weston and I say in unison. I set my drink on one of the tall pub tables and pull a pool stick from the stand on the wall and rack the balls. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I scramble to pull it out in hopes that it’s Lindsay. My heart stops when I glance at the screen and her picture stares back at me. The one I took of her on the beach only a few short weeks ago. Her blonde hair curls around tan shoulders and her sunglasses are propped on top of her head. Her bright blue eyes glisten against the backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean. I slide my finger over the screen to accept the call and walk out of the game room and into the hallway.
“Linds?” I answer the phone. She doesn’t respond. “Hello?” Still no answer. “Lindsay, is everything okay?” The phone clicks and she hangs up. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I stare at the screen, whispering a silent prayer that she calls back. She never does. I lean against the wall, a million thoughts swirling through my head. Is she okay? Why did she call? What is she doing? Where does she live? Is she alone? Does she miss me as much as I miss her?
“Everything okay?” Landon asks as he walks toward me.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “She hung up. I’m really worried about her,” I admit. Landon runs his hand across his chin, but doesn’t say anything else. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m going to go say goodbye to Reagan and the girls.”
He nods his head. “Thanks for coming by, and if I hear anything from Lindsay…”
“Yeah. Please let me know.”




 
 
I hung up. I miss him. I needed to hear his voice, but hearing his voice about killed me. I lie in this oversized bed, crying into a pillow and wanting him—needing him. I left the sheer curtains open, in hopes that I wouldn’t feel so alone, yet all I feel is emptiness and isolation. I toss and turn for hours, my eyes never closing as I watch the minutes on the digital alarm clock tick by in slow motion.