I hugged him back, not caring that I looked like a total pussy for embracing my brother.
He needed the affection.
I did, too.
I shook my head, clearing my mind of the memory.
I missed Landon. I missed the relationship we used to have. I needed him back in my life.
So I turned down a side street and started to pass familiar houses. I pulled up in front of the one-level brick house where I had spent my bleak formative years, and killed the engine.
I hadn’t called Landon since leaving rehab, knowing that what I had to say was better said in person. Though I was terrified that the kid who I had practically raised wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
I was sweating bullets, which wasn’t like me at all. Well, it wasn’t like the old me, anyway. This new me seemed to get freaked out over everything.
I walked up on the porch and put my hand on the doorknob and then thought better of it. Ringing the doorbell, I stood back and waited.
Landon appeared after only a few seconds and looked irritated at seeing me standing there.
“You’re out, I guess,” he said coldly, crossing his arms over his chest like the teenager he was.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and shrugged. “Yeah, I am.”
“I thought you’d call,” my brother said bitterly.
“I would have if I thought you would have answered,” I threw back.
Landon rolled his eyes.
“So are we going to have this conversation out here or can I come inside?” I asked.
“David’ll probably be back soon, so maybe another time.” Landon started to close the door and I stuck my foot out, wedging it in the jamb.
“Look, Landon, I know you’re pissed at me, but there are things I need to say, that you need to hear. I fucked up, buddy. Big-time. Give me a chance to make it right.”
I saw Landon waver and he dropped his eyes. “Okay. But not for long. I’ve got stuff to do.”
I wanted to laugh at his petulance, but I knew that would be a bad move, given the state of our relationship.
“Not a problem.” I walked into my uncle’s house and for the first time I didn’t feel angry and resentful toward the man who had begrudgingly taken us in after our dad’s death. What was the point in wasting the energy to hate him? It hurt me more than it hurt him. And I couldn’t focus on that sort of bullshit. Not now when I was trying to make the people I cared about see how much I had changed.
And holding on to bad blood kept me stuck. And stuck was not something I wanted to be.
“Can I get something to drink?” I asked, noting how unchanged everything was. The same green-and-tan sofa that had been there for the last decade was pushed against the wall. The stained rug that had been my grandparents’ laid haphazardly on the floor.
“Yeah, you know where everything is,” Landon said, sitting down on the couch and turning up the volume on the television. He wasn’t going to make things easy, that’s for sure.
I went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, surprised to see that it was full of food. I checked the cabinets and found that they, too, were full. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the tap and returned to the living room.
“You doing the grocery shopping now?” I asked.
Landon didn’t bother to look at me as he answered, his eyes still trained on the cartoon that played on the screen. “Nah. David’s been home a lot more. He got a job at the county office building doing maintenance.”
“Are you shitting me? Is he on something?” I asked, hardly able to believe that David had turned over a new leaf. Though if I was capable of change, why not my dickhead uncle?
“No, I think that’s your thing, not his,” Landon said blandly.
“Okay, I deserved that,” I stated.
