Dirty Sexy Alphas (Twenty Book Box Set) - Hannah Ford Page 0,61

breath. “The thing is, I ran into Landon in town, and he didn’t look so hot.”

“Like how?”

“Like he’d love a reason—any reason—for a fight.”

I groaned inwardly. That explained the how did Landon react question. “That bad?”

“Whatever you’re picturing, multiply it by a thousand. Pretty sure his dad’s death sent him on a war path, though god knows why. I thought the guy was supposed to be an asshole?”

“He was. He treated Landon like shit. You’d think he’d be happy that the guy croaked.”

“Apparently not.”

Silence fell on the line as I sorted through everything in my head. But it didn’t make sense. Landon should be relieved that he’d never have to deal with him again.

“The wake is tomorrow,” Annie said.

“That soon?”

“He died last weekend, so it’s the wake tomorrow and funeral on Saturday.”

“I see.” My mind was spinning, trying to figure out how I could make this work and not risk my internship.

“You going to come home for it?”

“Yes.” I said the word before I registered my own response.

I was going to fly home.

And then I was going to find Landon and figure out what the hell was going on with him.

Chapter 2

The flight back had seemed short, since I’d managed to sleep a large part of it. And now I was home again.

I always seemed to end up back here one way or another.

Annie dropped me at my house, but it was already dark. I set my luggage on the front porch, not willing to go inside and run into my brother. He’d just be pissed I left Texas and then he’d question me about what I was about to do. Considering I still didn’t know what I was going to say to Landon, I wouldn’t be able to explain it all to Matt.

I went to my car, firing it up and backing out of the drive. My heart climbed further in my throat with each mile, and by the time I was parked outside of Landon’s house, I could barely breathe.

This was Landon. The guy I’d known since I was ten.

And the guy who, three nights ago, fucked me in his hotel room.

And the guy who had lost his father and hadn’t bothered to tell me.

I hated that last part. Hated that in his most vulnerable moments, he hadn’t sought me out. Hadn’t wanted me to hold him.

I set the E-brake and turned the car off. Picking up my cell, I dialed him from the recent calls list on my phone. I’d been calling him half the day, but he’d never answered.

“What?” He asked, on the third ring.

“Landon?”

He didn’t reply. But then, it was a stupid question.

“I heard about your dad,” I finally said. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry over. It’s not a big loss.”

His voice was flat and cold, devoid of any emotion. Like he was talking about a profit and loss sheet, and not the death of his father.

“Landon, I know he was a jerk, but-“

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I wasn’t even close to him. You know that.”

But he wasn’t fine. There was so little emotion in his words, it rang false. He had to feel something.

“Landon-“

“Did you call for a reason?” He asked, cutting me off. “Because I have things to do.”

“I-“ My voice caught. I didn’t know how to navigate this call. Landon was acting like a robot, when he should’ve been hurt or pissed or maybe both.

I rubbed my lips together, weighing my options. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his words had sharp edges, betraying his real emotions. Betraying the anger beneath his words.

“Annie said his wake was tomorrow,” I said.

“I’m not going,” he snapped, his fragile hold collapsing. “To the wake or the funeral. I’m in no mood for that.” And there it was. The anger, the bitterness, the darker side of him, born years ago out of the toxic sickness in his family, much of which I still didn’t understand.

“I thought you said you were fine.”

“I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m attending the wake. That man has been dead to me for years; This changes nothing.”

But he was wrong. It changed everything. Landon’s flat voice had given away to his real emotion, doing little to hide the rage boiling under his words.

“Talk to me,” I said, quietly. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you care?” he snapped, as if he really didn’t know. As if I’d called him just to rub it in, mock him for grieving his abusive father. He didn’t understand that I