Only With You (Knights #2)

14

LANDON

“What are your sleeping habits like?”

I huff, sitting up straighter on the mustard-coloured sofa. “The same as every other college student.”

An amused smile tugs the corner of Reid, my therapist’s mouth, and jots something on his notepad.

I don’t need therapy, but Coach Warren insists that everyone on the team see a psychotherapist. He said it’s important to utilise this resource, because not only do we need to be on top of our game physically, but mentally.

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be here, but Coach didn’t give me or anyone a choice. We have to do therapy once a week, at least until the season is over. He did say we’re more than welcome to continue it, but as soon as it’s over, I’m not coming back.

I don’t need someone to dissect my life and try to make me feel better by telling me I’m not alone. Some fail to acknowledge that some people like and thrive on loneliness, and I’m one of them.

I find comfort in solitude, and that’s something I don’t plan to change.

“Do you mind specifying what your sleeping habits are like?”

We’ve been going at this for almost an hour. Because this is the first session, he’s been asking me background questions so he can get to know me. Depending on my answer, he’ll ask if I mind specifying and I don’t because I have nothing to hide.

My life is mundane. There isn’t much to say.

“I have two bowls of cereal, work on my music, play on my keyboard or guitar, then I go to bed.”

He hums, nodding with contentment at my response. “How many hours of sleep do you typically get a night?”

“Four to six.”

“Always four to six?”

“Always.”

His cheek twitches, and finally, he looks up at me, crossing a leg over his other knee, and sets his notepad on his lap. “You’re a straightforward, straight to the point kind of guy, huh?”

I blink, feeling underwhelmed by this conversation. I don’t mind mindless conversation, as long as it entertains me. This isn’t that.

I’m bored and over it.

“It’s pointless to hold back on the inevitable.” I give a half shrug.

He drums his fingers along the notepad. “The inevitable?”

I lean back, resting my arm on the armrest. “Yes. You’ll eventually find out since it seems I have to come here until the season ends. So why hold back on something you’ll eventually know? Might as well tell you now and not waste time.”

Reid stares at me thoughtfully and softly taps his pen along the pad. “Is this how you always perceive life?”

I space out for a second, thinking back to when everything changed. I didn’t always view life like this, but I grew up and understood either you make a choice or life chooses for you.

It’s one path or the other. You can’t take both.

“It’s how I live it.”

Reid tsks, picks up his pen, but he doesn’t write. The ballpoint hovers over the paper, but then he sets everything down on the round coffee table.

“We have a few minutes before the session is over. I just have one more question. Tell me about your family.”

“My mother is dead, my father might as well be, and I have a half-sister and stepbrother.”

His brows jump and I can see the gears rolling in his head. I can tell he’s going to want to unpack my statement and study the tone of my voice, but I have nothing to say.

“Your father, you say he might as well be dead. Why?”

Now, my brows rise. I wasn’t expecting Reid to be this straightforward.

“You know what, why don’t you hold onto that thought, and we’ll discuss this in our next session?” He stands and a broad smile stretches across his tawny face.

I say nothing, because I’m not eager or dying to talk about the man who means nothing to me. So I stand and follow him to the door.

He makes a joke about my short goodbye, but I say nothing and walk away before he can make another one.

Stepping out of NCU’s Student Health Clinic, I head straight to the parking lot where my 1970 Dodge Charger sits. As I slip inside, my phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore it until it stops, but then it goes off again. And again, I ignore it, but when it goes off for the third time, I grab my phone.

“Damn it,” I mumble under my breath at the name on the screen.

I contemplate changing my number, but I know if I do, he’ll somehow find a way to get it.

Since school started, John, my father, has been calling me nonstop. I haven’t answered and hadn’t planned to, simply because I don’t want to talk to him. A normal person would assume if their calls and messages aren’t getting returned, it’s because the other person doesn’t want to speak to them.

Unfortunately, John isn’t normal, or very smart.

I’m tempted to shut my phone off, but I know he’ll call Jagger like he has before in the past. The last thing I want is to pull Jag into my shit. He already has too much going on to also deal with John’s bullshit.

Reluctantly, I answer and put it on speaker. I pull out of the parking lot and drive to the house. “Yes.”

“Hey, son, how are you?”

I’ve told him countless times not to call me son, but he never listens.

“Hello, John, it seems that your memory has gone to shit once again, and you’ve forgotten that I’ve told you multiple times not to call me son. But that’s all right, I’ll remind?—”

“Landon,” he interjects. “Don’t speak to me like that. You need to respect me. I’m your father.”

My hand squeezes the steering wheel as I do my best not to lose my temper. There are four people who seem to always bring out the worst in me. John, his wife, his son, and Hollywood.

“It seems you and I have two distinct definitions of what it means to be a father. I’ll save you the trouble of looking it up, but a father?—”

“Enough!” he heaves an agitated breath. “Please…I just want to talk to you. I miss you.”

“Mmm, I can’t say I feel the same. I have to go.”

I hear shuffling in the background and a faint feminine voice, who I can only assume is his god-awful wife. I wouldn’t have had an issue with her, but it was clear from the moment I moved in with them that she didn’t want me there. She didn’t like that John had his—lack thereof—attention on me and not her son.

He sighs tiredly. “I don’t want to argue.”

“Arguing is what you may have been doing, but I’m only stating facts,” I earnestly say. “If this is what you called me for, you’re wasting my time. I’m hanging up.”

Whenever I speak to John, I keep it short. If I don’t, he presumes I want to engage in conversation and won’t shut up. I could easily block him and ignore his existence, like I have in the past, but he’s a persistent fuck and doesn’t know how to let things go.

“Fucking Christ, Landon, I’m just trying to talk to you,” he exasperates, his voice close to rising, but he manages to keep it low.

At a stoplight, I glance at the time, grimacing at how long we’ve been talking for. Exactly three minutes. What a waste of time.

“Are you done?”

He sighs again. “No, I just have one more thing to tell you.”

“Hmm?” I hum absently, ready for the conversation to end.

“I’m going down to North Carolina for work, and I’m going to be there for a month or so.” My phone almost slips from my grasp. “I thought since I’d be down there, we could meet up. I know you’ll be busy with the season starting in a month and school, but I know we can make it work. When I was in Texas visiting Ashton, we made it work.”

“Can’t, I’m busy,” I immediately reply.

“I know you can spare me at least a few minutes. Don’t forget I know where you live. I’ll just go to you.”

This man and his persistence, I swear.

“I mean it. I’m going to be—” I pause briefly as the most ludicrous idea goes off in my head. My hand tightens around the wheel again until my knuckles turn white. There’s no way this works out, but I’ll think about the logistics later. “Tutoring.”

He scoffs. “Tutoring. You don’t need tutoring.”

“Not me. I’m going to be tutoring someone. Every single day, so I don’t have time to see you.”

“Every day?” John questions, his tone disbelieving.

I bite back a groan and turn in the opposite direction of my house. “Yes, every day. She’s in desperate need of help, and I’m actually going to meet her now. I gotta go.”

“Maybe once I get down there, we’ll figure something out.” Hopefulness brims in his voice, but what he fails to realise is that hope died a long time ago.

I’d pity him if I could feel it.

“Doubtful.” I hang up and toss my phone on the passenger seat.

I once loved that man and wanted nothing more than to have his attention. But he chose a path I wasn’t a part of, and as I grew up, I chose mine.

For some reason, John can’t get that through his head and thinks he can somehow merge our paths as if he didn’t abandon me. As if he didn’t walk away from Mum and me. As if we didn’t watch him from a distance start a new family that became his everything, while we became his nothing.

Yeah, it hurt, but eventually, the pain stopped and I moved on.

I just wish he would, too.

Now because of John and his incessant determination to reconcile our nonexistent relationship, I’ve agreed to tutor Hollywood. I know I don’t have to do it, but I’m not a liar. I also know he’ll show up to my house and not leave until we talk. Hanging out somewhere else isn’t an option. I don’t like to be around others unless necessary.

Except for Gabby and Polly. They’re my best friends and know how overstimulated I get, so they don’t bother me. They let me sleep and eat at their place, no questions asked. I did go less because of their roommate, but now everything changes with John coming.

I guess I should look at the bright side. I’ll be somewhere I don’t mind, with people I like, minus Hollywood, but at least I’ll get paid. I don’t really need money, but having a little extra never hurts.

It doesn’t take long before I’m at her apartment. I knock a few times and wait for her to open the door. It feels extremely odd to be here because I’m not here for Gabby or Polly, but her .

Right as I’m about to knock again, the door swings open. It all happens too fast, but Polly slams against my chest, bounces back, and almost falls, but I grab her arm before she does.

She scrunches her nose and rubs it as I let go of her. “Landon?”

“Pols, hey.”

She picks up her bag that fell on her ground. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“I’m going to tutor her.”

Her brows arch high and a smile teases her lips. “Are you, now? Weren’t you just here yesterday and told her you weren’t going to?”

Explanations are something I don’t owe anyone, but Polly isn’t just anyone, and I know she’ll understand my change of heart.

“John is coming, and he’ll be here for a month or so.”

Polly nods once, understanding exactly what that means. She not only knows John and his family, but she also dated Ashton. So she knows my disdain for them and how much I like to keep away from them.

“And I know you didn’t tell her Gabby also tutored you.”

“What?” Her voice exudes shock, but it’s so fake, she doesn’t bother to hide it. “Oh. No. Did I forget to mention that? Huh, it must’ve slipped my mind.” She swings her bag over her shoulder and sidesteps me. “Guess you could say, it worked out?” she hurriedly says and walks away, but backward. “Be nice Landon, I’m serious. I’m not playing games. Gabby and I really like her, so don’t fuck this up.” She warns with a threatening stare. “Anyway, have fun! And you’re welcome.”

Her smile becomes mischievous and eyes sparkle. Leave it to Polly to create something unrealistic and far-fetched in her head. I blame all of the ridiculous romance movies she spends every Friday night watching with Gabby.

Stepping into the apartment, I slip my shoes off and take a seat on the sofa.

What Polly suggested I do is blasphemous and disturbing. I’ve no desire to sleep with Hollywood. What happened at Liquid was a lapse of judgement, but that was due to being distracted.

That goddamn shirt she wore that day is a partial reason, but really, it was just her.

I may not like her and she’s not my type, but I won’t deny that Julianna Sparks is attractive. Though a ttractive really is an understatement, but I’m leaving it at that. I don’t need to think about her more than I already have.

A door opening drags me out of my thoughts, and my gaze snaps in that direction. But I look away and close my eyes as a soft hum drifts into the living room. The mellifluous sound evokes colours that I wish would go away, but I know for as long as I live and hear her, they never will.

Snowy white and electric sapphire swirl in my head.

Closing my eyes is futile. Whether they’re open or closed, I still hear colour.

Fuck chromesthesia.

Tucking my chain underneath my shirt, I revel in the slight coolness from the metal and look at the girl who has become an unexpected complication in my life.

The same girl who’s wearing nothing but a tiny pink pastel towel around her damp body.

“Holly—” My throat dries up and I gawk in disbelief as her towel gets caught on something and falls to the floor as our gazes collide.

She shrieks, and I—well, I…stare.