Page 55 of Safe (King’s Heart #1)
Grant, Four years later
I lay my piping bag down and survey my work on the kitchen counter.
It still doesn’t quite look right. I feel proud of the grass. I spent way too much time watching Youtube videos on how to get the perfect texture and green color that would scream football field to anyone who looked at the cake.
The football I made out of modeling chocolate that crowns the top tier looks wonky as fuck. I do my best to delicately adjust it, but I really don’t think there’s any fixing it.
I groan out loud before muttering, “Fucking piece of shit.”
“I think it looks nice,” a soft voice replies behind me.
I jump, whipping my head around to see Landon’s mom peeking over my shoulder.
“Oh. Uh, yeah I guess. I tried, but it doesn’t really look as good as I was picturing.”
She smiles warmly and looks at the cake again. “It’s beautiful, Grant. He’s going to love it.” She pauses a moment to meet my eyes. “How are you feeling about today?”
Today is the NFL draft. Landon has been working toward this since I met him. It was always his ultimate goal. He loves football. And more than that, he really wants to be able to take care of his family.
I already told him that my trust could do that for him, but he insisted on this route.
Landon was pretty much a star from the moment he stepped onto the field during his first college game. He was already a stellar player, there was no question of that. But his personality—it stole the hearts of the media and fans alike.
And what seemed to be their favorite part? He was openly queer.
He never tried to hide me from the limelight—often jumping into the stands after a win to tackle me with a scorching kiss. Right in front of the world.
They embraced him.
He got sponsorships left and right, so he’s already amassed himself a small fortune.
The NFL has been clambering after him since the beginning, but he’s always been adamant about wanting a degree to fall back on.
So now, with graduation right around the corner, he’s expected to get drafted in the first round.
“I’m good,” I say, trying to sound calm even though I’m brimming with nerves. “I’m happy for him.”
She stares at me. Maybe a little too long. My skin gets uncomfortable waiting for her to say something. But she doesn’t, instead, she pulls me into a hug.
I bristle at first. Like I always do. Despite how long I’ve been around this family, I still struggle with their love at times.
It felt so foreign. How much they love each other—flaws and all. I’m getting used to it, but every so often, that sad, visceral reaction still pops up when I’m awash in their affection.
I melt into her embrace, and she squeezes me tighter.
“I’m so glad you two found each other,” she whispers.
Tears fill my eyes, and I do my best to blink them away, not quite ready to be that emotional around anyone but Landon yet.
“Thank you.”
She pulls away and smiles again, rubbing my arm. “Come on. Is it ready?”
I nod.
“Okay, lead the way.” She steps back and gestures toward the doorway leading to the living room.
I carefully pick up the cake plate and slowly make my way toward the noise of the other people.
The NFL invited him to fly out to the stadium where the draft was held—even inviting any guests he wanted. But Landon wanted it to be more intimate. He didn’t like the idea of cameras and press in his face right away. Only the people he truly cared about.
I walk out to the living room of our apartment. It’s a nice place close to campus, high up with lots of windows because Landon loves the view of the city.
Everyone else is loitering around the large sectional, facing the quiet hum of the TV, waiting for everything to start.
Gwen is almost eleven now, thoroughly obsessed with anything related to technology, so her nose is buried in a tablet.
Danny sits next to her, just as grumpy at eighteen years old, constantly sneaking glances at Simmons, thinking no one has noticed all of these years.
Simmons sits off in a chair to the side, happily chatting away about something or other with a smile on his face, even though it doesn’t seem like anyone is listening.
“Grant!”
My eyes meet Landon’s excited ones coming around the corner from our bedroom as he flicks them between me and the cake.
He beams as he walks toward me. His smile practically splitting his face in two, bathing all of us in its light.
His attention makes me float right off the ground.
How can that be? That a person’s smile—movement from their lips—can make you feel like this?
Warm. Relaxed. Safe .
Reaching over the cake in my arms, he takes my face in his hands and gently kisses my lips.
“This looks so amazing, baby. I’m serious.
” He lets go of me to step back and admire my work, getting eye level with it.
“Look at the grass you made. And the Xs and Os? Like a playbook. This is so great. I think you should really stick with this one.”
He means making cakes.
I’ve been kind of rotating through some hobbies recently.
I did go to the same university as Landon, but it was really only to stay close with him. Football had never meant as much to me, so I didn’t want to play.
I chose some bullshit marketing degree that I fumbled my way through and never really planned on using it.
Now I have all of this money in my trust and no idea what to do with it or my life.
By the way, that’s the trust from my parents.
I never touched my uncle’s money. My legal team was able to divide it between all his known victims. I know I can never undo the lying that I did when I was a child—and I’ve been going to therapy to help deal with the guilt I carry for that—but I hope the money made their lives a little bit easier.
I look down at the cake.
I guess it looks decent. I spent a shit ton of time trying to get everything right. And I suppose it is the best thing I’ve produced since I’ve started exploring.
I purse my lips. “I guess. I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”
He smiles back at me. “You should.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay. Okay. I said I’ll think. Go sit down. It’s gonna start soon.”
I walk over to the table with the rest of the food and gently place the cake in the center, right as the NFL draft music starts to chime behind me.
I sit next to Landon and squeeze his thigh. He grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the barbed wire there, before placing it back on his thigh.
I thought about covering the barbed wire with something else.
Something more beautiful. But I think it’s ultimately an important part of my story.
It was a terrible time in my life, but now every time I look at it, it reminds me that I survived.
That I’m doing better. That despite how persistent the darkness can still be sometimes—I’ve come so far. And I don’t ever want to forget that.
Everyone gets deathly quiet and stares intently at the TV as they make some stupid introductions of people that no one cares about.
Then the picks start happening, and it feels like none of us are moving.
First pick.
Second pick.
Third pick.
Each time we all hold our breath, but it keeps going, and my nerves are jumping like fucking oil in a hot pan every time they don’t say his name.
Landon’s phone starts vibrating.
Everyone stills and then slowly turns in Landon’s direction.
The tiniest smirk graces his face as he answers the call.
“Hello… Yes, that’s me… Yes, I’d love to… Okay… Okay. Thank you, sir… Yes… Yes… Have a good night.”
And then he hangs up and looks at all of us like we’re crazy. “Let’s watch the TV, guys.”
Simmons stands. “What?! You have to tell?—”
He’s interrupted by Gwen who points at the TV. “Shhhh! Listen!”
“The San Diego Thunder pick… Landon Moore!”
Everyone jumps up and starts cheering. I can feel people hugging me, but I don’t even know who, and I don’t care. I’m yelling and jumping too. Tears are falling down my face.
I think this is the happiest moment of my life. And it’s all for another person. A person I love. A person who loves me back. Deeply.
In the chaos, we somehow find each other as everyone else in the room continues to jump and scream.
His mouth molds to mine, and I feel a lifetime of happiness laced within the kiss.
“Ready to move to San Diego?” he asks through his wet cinnamon eyes.
“Ready, Lan.”
THE END.