Only With You (Knights #2)

33

LANDON

“You can put on some music if you want. You can even use my record player. It works now. This guy fixed it and I hate to admit it, but he did a pretty good job.”

I hold back a smile. “Which guy?”

“Just some guy. He’s not important though, but you’re welcome to use it. I’m going to change. I’ll be quick.” She simpers to herself and bolts to her room before I say something.

I let loose the smile I was trying to hold back. I’ve been doing that a lot and I really don’t mean to, but anytime she’s around, my lips stretch of their own accord. Something about being around her makes me feel really good.

But a nagging thought springs in my head, asking, But for how long?

My smile drops, and instead of using her record player, I turn the TV on and go to YouTube, but pause when I look at myself on the screen. She doesn’t have any idea I’m her favourite singer and I’ll never tell her, but it’s fun to watch her obsess.

When I hear some shuffling in the background, I click on the song I recently did a cover on, “Yellow” by Coldplay.

She comes out and gasps from behind me, and when I pivot to look at her, I don’t blink or breathe.

She’s out of the angel costume, and now wearing the black jumper I gave her and wow, she looks lovely. “Did you just willingly put on Haptic?”

“I don’t want to hear it.” I will myself to stop staring at her and grab the pizza from the dining table.

She pretends to zip her lips and hums along. “God, I love this song. He must’ve just posted this.”

I know she does. She mentioned it once and said she’d love Haptic to cover it. So I did. How could I not? She’s an avid listener, it’s nothing.

When her stomach grumbles, she stares at the box of pizza in my hand. “I really shouldn’t be eating this, but God, I’m starving,”

“Why’s that?”

“My sister, Natalie, is getting married in a few months and I’m the maid of honor, so I need to watch what I eat,” she explains, grabbing two bottled waters from the fridge and some napkins.

She follows me to the living room and pushes the coffee table and we both take a seat on the floor, setting the pizza between us.

After we left the museum, her stomach started grumbling, and after minutes of going back and forth, she tentatively agreed on getting something to eat.

I don’t want to be an arsehole and say she doesn’t need to watch what she eats, because I’ve seen the way she eats. It’s always wholesome and nutritious foods. I would know since we’ve cooked and eaten together.

“Good thing it has fruit.” I pick up a slice, pointing at the pineapple scattered around the pizza.

Saint would hate this. I almost snap a picture to send to him, but decide against it. That’ll only rile him up and he’ll blow up my phone with facts and other bullshit on why it’s the worst thing anyone could have ever created.

That draws a small smile on her face. “Can you tell my mother that?”

I know she means that as a joke, but the strain in her voice tells me otherwise. She must’ve not meant to say that out loud, because she clears her throat and grabs a slice, along with a small cup of ranch and a napkin.

“Look at us.” Pleasure laces her voice.

I stare at her, conflicted, wanting to say more because what she said about her parents at the museum resurfaces in my head. But it’s obvious she’s done talking about it and I don’t want to push.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” I ask, taking a bite of my pizza.

She kicks her foot against my leg. “We’re getting along. Sharing food. And we’re alone. Not arguing. I’m so proud of us.”

My brows furrow. “You just kicked me. I’m not sure that counts as getting along. Now you’re going to have to put a dollar in the jar.”

She scowls.

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t make the rules.” I shrug and take another bite and peek down at her uneaten slice. “Eat, or it’ll get cold.”

“Just know, I still can’t stand you.”

My cheek twitches. “Are you still plotting my downfall?”

“Always,” she quips.

“Good. Now, eat.”

She pulls the lid off the ranch and dips the pizza in it. When she peers up at me, she quietly chuckles.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like ranch?”

“I’ve never tried it.” My lip curls upward distastefully. “It smells weird.”

She gasps, looking at me like I’ve offended her. “Smells weird? You’re the weird one.”

“For not liking ranch?”

“Yes, for not liking raunch ,” she emphasises the word, and mimics the sound of my voice, making it sound low. “You need to try it.”

“I don’t sound like that and I’m not going to try it.” I shake my head, backing away when she holds the small container up.

She laughs and sits on her knees, pushing it closer to me. “Yes, you do, and you have to try it. Stop being like that.”

I scrunch my nose, adding more space between us, but the further I get, the closer she gets. “I’m not being like anything, and I’m not going to try it. I’m sure it tastes bloody awful.”

She giggles, eyes shining vibrantly. I want to be annoyed, because I hate when people are pushy, but I can’t help but soak in how enthralling she looks.

Snowy white and electric sapphire swirl in my head.

The mesmerising colours dance in my mind’s eye, like the sound of her voice. Bewitching and harmonic. The ribbon-like rays unpredictably whirl and glow vividly.

It hypnotises me, binding me like a spell, and when I try to blink out of the daze, my gaze collides with hers and something shocks me.

Blinking again, I shake myself out of the stupor, only, it doesn’t go away.

“Come on, just try it once. If you don’t like it, I’ll leave you alone.” She dangles the tiny cup in my hand like that’s supposed to entice me. It does nothing, but when she bites her pizza with ranch on it and moans, another array of colours appears.

Vivacious aurous and intense impetuous cherry red.

I blow a breath, feeling dizzy. “Fine.”

Julianna beams and hands me the dressing. She watches me keenly as I pour a small amount of it on my slice and take a bite.

“Wow, that was?—”

“Delicious, right?” she animatedly replies.

“No,” I flatly say, earning me a scowl from her.

It’s actually not too bad, but I love annoying her.

She gives me a half shrug. “Whatever, it was worth a shot. Maybe you need to try it with fries.”

I shake my head, and she blows out a tired breath and sits back down.

With the music still playing in the background, we eat our pizza in silence, but I sense there’s something she wants to say or ask. Every so often, I feel her eyes on me and then she drums her fingers on her lap like she’s hesitant.

“Ask.”

She angles her body to face me and tucks her legs underneath her. “Is there a reason you don’t drink?”

Like a rewind button has been pressed, a flashback as if it happened just a second ago plays in my head.

“I just wanted him to stay! I was there. I was always there! Why was I not good enough?” Mum slurs her words, sobbing into her hand. The tears roll down her cheeks and soak her already wet shirt from the alcohol she accidentally spilled on herself.

I cautiously approach her, eyeing the bottle of whiskey in her hand. “Mum, it’s going to be okay. I’m here. We’ll work throu ? —”

She bitterly laughs, wiping her tear-stained cheek with her forearm. “This isn’t about you! Matter of fact, you’re the reason he left. You’re the reason he left me!”

This isn’t the first time she’s said that, and by now, it should hurt less, but the hurt intensifies, yet I push through because this isn’t about me.

“Mum—”

“Enough, Landon!” she yells and hurls the bottle straight at me, but I duck just in time before it hits me.

I stand frozen, staring unblinking at the broken shards of glass on the floor. The brown liquid trickles down the wall and gathers on the floor in a puddle.

It’s not until she walks away and slams the door behind her that I snap out of it.

Blowing out a ragged breath, I bend down to pick up the mess.

“My mother was an alcoholic.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t apologise.” I set my pizza back down and grab a napkin to wipe my hands. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not something I go around telling anyone, but I told you I’d be honest with you.”

I expect words of pity or a sympathetic expression, but I get neither.

She tenderly smiles at me and places her hand on top of mine. Her soft hand squeezes mine; it’s gentle, but reassuring, and it grounds me.

“You didn’t have to, but thanks for sharing that with me. I promise anything you share with me stays between us.”

I raise my hands to my chain as Reid comes to mind. In every one of our meetings, he’s always been so insistent that if I can’t talk to him, that I talk to someone I can confide in.

I’ve considered talking to Jagger, or even Gabby and Polly, but they have their own shit going on. I don’t want to burden them, and it’s pointless to bring up things from the past that need to stay in the past.

But for some reason unbeknownst to me, I’m compelled to talk to her. I don’t know why. She’s never been someone I would even consider opening up to, but she’s here and she feels like a weighted blanket. Something— someone I didn’t realise I needed.

I drop my hand from my chain, but I don’t let go of her hand. I think she’ll move hers, but she doesn’t. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m here, whenever you want to talk about anything. I’m here.”

She scoots a little closer to me and I somewhat push the box out of the way. We’re acutely aware of what we’re doing, and maybe this is where we should draw the line. We’ve already crossed a territory we shouldn’t have, but this is different.

“John, my father, left my mum for someone else, and she just…” Stop smiling! Just fucking stop! God, I can’t even look at you right now. You look just like him. “Checked out. Alcohol became her choice of therapy. Particularly whiskey. It was her favourite. And eventually, she died from…alcohol poisoning. So being around anyone who’s drunk makes me feel…” Please don’t die, Mum. “Anxious.”

It’s why I stayed with her two years ago and a few weeks ago. It’s why I watch over my friends when they drink, because what if something happens?

Julianna doesn’t say anything, but squeezes my hand and lays her head on my shoulder.

I inhale the scent of her sweet perfume, bask in the comfort she exudes, and for the first time, exhale a breath of relief. But it’s not just relief that I feel, but a little free, a little alive, a little okay.

She peers up at me, brows pinched. “Wait, if alcohol bothers you, why are you always around your friends who drink so much? Have you told them?”

I shrug, crossing my ankle over the other. “No, it’s pointless. I don’t want to be that person.”

“You’re not being that person. You’re setting boundaries. Oh my gosh.” She gapes, then winces as if she’s suddenly remembered something. “I was all over you that night you brought me home, and that night…two years ago. Oh, God, Landon. I’m so sorry.”

Halloween two years ago flashes in my mind.

Julianna was all over the place, stumbling, confused, and slurring her words. I quickly registered that she was on something, and she had said as much the morning after. She woke up in my bed while I sat all night on the floor, watching her to make sure she didn’t choke on her vomit.

I hadn’t planned to take care of her that night, but I wasn’t sure who she was with and she seemed off. And I know it had nothing to do with the drugs. Something was off, but she was insistent it was whatever she took.

“It’s fine. It happened.”

She casts her gaze downward, puffing out a weary breath. “It’s not fine. I’m sorry you had to deal with that—with me. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Her words are quiet, almost embarrassed, remorseful, and despondent.

“Hey.” I tuck the curtain of blonde hair that covers half her face behind her ear. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“It’s not okay.” She brings her knees to her chest, threading her arms around them. “I didn’t mean to put you through that. It wasn’t my intention.”

I pivot, sitting in front of her, placing my legs on either side of her, and hook my palms underneath her knees.

“Julianna, I promise I’m okay. My issues aren’t your fault. You have nothing to apologise for.”

I hate myself for bringing it up and ruining the night. I hate myself even more, because I want her to smile. I want to be the reason she does, but I’m not very good at drawing them out.

“It’s not that. It’s—I haven’t been honest with you.” She exhales a shaky breath and pries away from my hold. “I really don’t know what happened. I know you’re going to think I’m stupid, because who wouldn’t? I know it’s really all my fault. I’m the one who was there. I’m the one who wasn’t careful enough. I really should’ve known better.”

A heavy weight lodges in my chest, all the air around us getting confiscated as I understand her words.

“You didn’t willingly take something that night, did you?” I ask, slicing the suffocating silence.

She swallows thickly. “No.”

I flex my hands at my sides, grinding my teeth before I ask the dreaded question. “Did something happen that night?”

“Nothing happened, but it was my fault.” Her bottom lip quivers and her voice cracks before she clears her throat.

She won’t look at me, and despite how sure she sounds, I can’t shake off that something did happen. But I don’t want to push. She doesn’t need that.

“Julianna.” I drag myself closer to her and cup her cheek. “It’s not your fault. It wasn’t your fault.”

She rolls her lips anxiously. “You don’t know what happened that night.”

I take her hand in mine, keeping the other on her cheek. “I don’t need to know what happened that night to know it wasn’t your fault.”

A small crease settles between her brows and her sad eyes search mine. “You don’t know what happened and you believe me? Just like that? I don’t need to explain myself to you? You’re going to just…believe me?” she tentatively asks.

I don’t miss the way her shoulders sag and how she tips her head down like she’s making herself small, prepared for the worst.

“I believe you, Julianna,” I earnestly say, and the moment those words fall from my lips, the tension on her shoulders subsides, and the exhausted look in her eyes morphs into relief. “I believe you.”

There’s more I want to say, but it may be a lot for her, so I do the only thing I can think of. The only thing I know I might not fuck up.

“I’m going to hug you, okay?”

“Okay.” She limply nods.

I easily tug her close until she’s on her knees and she looks at me as I do to her. We don’t have to communicate out loud what we’re doing because I understand the look in her eyes. She’s trusting me and I know I’ll do everything in my power never to break that.

She lifts one leg to straddle me, slipping her arms around my neck as I securely wrap mine around her waist. Once she rests her head on my shoulder, I hear the heavy exhale of her breath and her body melts against mine.

I’m not sure how long we sit here, but I hold her, while the cover I sang of “Let Me Follow” by Son Lux plays in the background.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a great hugger?” I hear the smile in her voice and that pulls one from me.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t usually make it a habit of hugging people.”

“But you’re hugging me?”

I suck in a breath as she gently winds the hair at my nape around her fingers. “I guess you’re the exception.”

She pulls back, staring up at me with those bright sapphire eyes. “Does that mean you’ll hug me again?”

“If you need it, yeah.” I swallow, glancing down at her lips as she licks them.

Julianna leans in closer, and right as we’re about to snuff the distance between us, we freeze when we hear a shrill laugh come from outside, followed by more laughter.

Once the noise fades and we hear a door slam, Julianna yawns.

“You’re sleepy.”

“A little.” She yawns again.

I give her a pointed look. “Go to bed. I’ll clean up.”

She climbs off me and stands. “Do you want to stay?”

“You want me to sleep over?”

Standing, I grab the box of pizza and set it on the coffee table, attempting not to smile.

She rocks on her heels. “Yeah, but you might actually not be too comfortable. My bed?—”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Yeah,” she softly replies.

“I’ll be comfortable.”

Julianna leads and I follow, and as I shut the door behind me, I realise there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.