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Chapter twenty-eight

Landon

L andon kept his head pressed to her chest as his breathing evened out, feeling an immeasurable sense of peace with her in his arms. He was still riding the high of knowing his words had made her feel a bit better, even if not completely. He wished he could solve it all for her, make it so she never felt insecure about being herself ever again. If only it were as simple as helping her find a choreography job that she loved, that fulfilled her and didn’t dim her light. He’d have spent every penny he had to take care of her if he believed she would have let him.

He closed his eyes as that thought flitted by, knowing he was beyond fucked for Keala.

She shifted in his lap. Frantically, he pleaded, “Please don’t leave.” The other two times, she’d hightailed it out of his apartment. He leaned back, eyes on hers. “Let me take care of you. You spend all week taking care of others and caring about what everyone else wants. Let me do that for you.”

Keala searched his face for something. Nodded. Landon pulled her into his bathroom, helping her out of her clothes and into the tub. She gave him a soft smile as he scrubbed soap over her freckled skin. Smiled wider when he gently shampooed and conditioned her hair. She kissed him when he toweled her dry. Again after he got her into a pair of his boxers and a T-shirt. Again, harder, after he fed her a few bites of food from the facility.

When he finally tucked her into his bed, he asked, “Do you want me to sleep upstairs?”

Her voice was so wobbly, and exhaustion was clear in every crevice of her face, every inhale of air, every tremor of her hand, like the last leaf of autumn clinging to a branch in the wind as she responded, “No. Stay with me, please.”

Thank god.

Landon got under his comforter with her, and she folded herself against him, soft, damp hair pressed to his chest.

“Will you be at the children’s hospital Monday?” she asked quietly.

“I will.” Every year, the team set up visits for players to go to children’s hospitals around San Jose and sign autographs, take pictures, and just generally boost morale. Every year, Landon offered to go despite how much he hated hospitals. “You’re not working?”

“I switched to a Wednesday shift. I’m rarely able to do events, so sometimes I feel bad and move things around.” Keala turned, and even in the dark, he could feel how beautiful she was. “I know we can’t interact, but I’m glad you’ll be there.”

“I’m glad you’ll be there too,” he whispered, pulling her close to himself. “I hate hospitals.”

He thought they’d sleep, but she sat up slightly, and though she said nothing, he knew she wanted an explanation.

“I was in the living room with my mom when she collapsed. Dehydration from the chemo, they said. She’d been doing well, so we all thought she’d be back home in no time. Just there for a day or two.”

He swallowed, his throat tight with the pain of remembering. “But she’d developed an infection, and her chances of recovery seemed to dwindle by the day. That was the first and only time I ever saw her cry…and I think it was then that I finally realized how serious it all was. And being at that hospital…god.” He gritted his teeth, trying not to slip into memories of what the hospital evoked in him. “It felt like walking into a haunted house. I’m sorry, that’s a horrible thing to say, but every time I went to see her in the hospital, which was rare since Dad always had me on the field, I hated every second of it.

“I hated seeing her so frail and weak. Maya, my little sister, didn’t understand that Mom wasn’t coming home after we learned about the infection, so Colton and I tried to shield her from it. We had to act like everything was fine, at Mom’s request. And honestly? It was kind of easy to act that way when I spent most of my life playing football. I pretended she was at home, waiting for us to come back, like she had been before she collapsed. I wasn’t allowed to cry about it when Dad was around anyway, so Colton and I had to find a way to be okay and hide how we felt. No surprise, he was way better at it than I was.”

Keala stroked a finger across Landon’s collarbone, then tucked her head under his and hugged him just that much tighter at his words. A show of understanding, of knowing what it was like to grow up and see yourself as lesser when compared to your sibling.

“But the hospital was where I had to face it head-on, and I didn’t know how. The walls closed in on me, and I…I hated it, that feeling of grief and hopelessness. And, god , of disappointing her. I knew what I was doing wasn’t going to make her better, and yet I kept getting caught smoking or skipping class or fighting. I couldn’t help her, and I could barely help my sister. I craved Dad’s approval, and if not his approval then his attention, so much that I did anything I could to get it. And I hated myself for it.”

Sometimes, often, he still hated himself. But he didn’t say that out loud.

Keala kissed him softly.

“I don’t think she was disappointed in you. I think she understood how hard everything was for you, how tough it was to handle that as a teenager. I think she knew you were being strong for your sister, and even if she didn’t get a chance to say it, I know she was and is proud of you. Because there’s not a sane person on this planet who could know you like I do and not be,” Keala whispered, kissing his shoulder once.

When Landon squeezed her, she continued, “And if on Monday you feel that way, like the walls are closing in on you, look at me. I’ll be there, waving my poms and smiling. Even if I’m not looking at you, know that I’m smiling for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Somehow, despite wanting to spend the evening taking care of her, Keala had ended the night doing the same for him because that was who she was. Her words felt like tangible brushes of her fingers against his cheek, comforting him.

Landon was more than fucked, and he knew nothing, not even trying to hit pause on whatever they were doing, would stop it. It was only the first evening he was getting to sleep beside her, but he realized he wanted them all to be like this.

That should have scared him, but he was too tired to deep dive through all the reasons this could end poorly. Reaching toward his phone on the nightstand, he set a quieter alarm for thirty minutes before he would normally wake up so he could hold her for a little longer before football.