Ouch. She couldn’t blame him for the resentment in his tone, but what would he think about her if she opened up about Hunter? For now, she’d keep silent. She didn’t want the friendship to end before it had a chance to really begin. “That’s tough.”
“Life lessons learned early in life.” He uncovered the cake and forked a bite to his mouth. “This is amazing.”
“Mrs. Addy makes the best cakes. She said she’ll teach me one day if I want.”
“Do you bake at all?”
“The only cakes I make are out of a box.” She sipped her coffee. “My mom did teach me her chocolate chip cookie bar recipe though, and I can hit that out of the park.”
“Gran is the best cook. When we were younger, she’d make homemade bread often and always had a homemade treat waiting when we got home from school.” He took another bite, his eyes taking on a faraway glaze. “Before Granddad died, he made it a point to do something special with each of us kids individually. Sometimes it was tinkering on his cars, working on the garden, and on extra special occasions, he’d take us for ice cream. We’d sit at the table, and I’d have his undivided attention while I talked about my day and drank my milkshake. That’s probably why they’re my vice now—they take me back to good memories.”
“Makes perfect sense.”
“Did your family have any special traditions?”
“The normal, I guess.” She didn’t want to talk about her family, not now. Tonight was about helping him. “Growing up, I didn’t think we were anything special, but when I look back, I see the little things my parents did to make it memorable.”
“Like what?” He took another bite of cake, and when she still didn’t answer, he elaborated. “Remember my childhood was atypical, so I’m curious what a normal one looked like.”
“My parents made us sit every night for a time of family devotion and prayer. We always complained about it, but it brought us together. Every other Saturday, my dad would take all us kids out for the morning to give my mom a break.” The memories of those outings made her smile. “I thought every dad did that. Little did I know.”
“How many siblings do you have?”
She coughed. “One brother and two sisters.”
“You don’t talk about them much.”
“There’s not much to say.”
His mouth twisted into a frown. “I find that hard to believe.”
“We’re not here to talk about me.” She stretched her arm and nudged his shoulder. “What happened with your dad?”
He took the bait, but with questions remaining in his eyes. “I’m not sure how it started. One minute we’re on the porch, taking in the view, and the next he’s accusing me of being a poor excuse of a Christian.”
“Isn’t he the one who abandoned you?”
“Right?” He threw his arms up. “That’s what I said, then he yammered on about how he’s a changed man and I should forgive him, blah, blah, blah.”
“What happened to prompt that accusation?”
Landon glanced away, but not before she saw the sheepish scrunch of his features. “He thanked me for inviting him and mom on the trip and told me it meant a lot that I was reaching out to reconcile.”
“Please don’t tell me you told him Gran made you.”
“I might have.” He looked up and ran a hand through his hair. “He caught me off guard, and it came out before I could catch myself.”
“And he didn’t take it very well?”
“I may as well have slapped him across the face.” One of his hands curled into a tight fist. “He teared up. I’ve never seen my dad show emotion like that. It was weird.”
She considered her next words carefully, debated not saying them but decided they needed to be said. “Maybe he’s truly changed.”
He shook his head with unsuppressed vigor. “That’s what he wanted me to think. It’s all an act, and I let him know as much.”
A clear replay of the argument was coming into view. “Can I ask a question?”
“Go ahead. You’ve been asking.”
