Since You Happened by Holly Hall
Chapter 17
“Sure you’re ready for this?” I ask Landon when we climb the stairs to enter Skyline. The bar is an industrial-type place in LoDo and is one of my friend group’s favorite haunts. At Haley’s insistence, we finally set up a night to get everyone together for a night out, though I strongly suspect it’s just a front for them to get to know Landon.
“You make it sound like I’m being sent to the battlefront,” Landon says, smacking me on the butt from where he’s walking behind me.
“You basically are. Let me preface this night by saying I am not responsible for what comes out of their mouths. Okay?”
“You think I’m going to judge your friends?”
“I think my friends are going to judge you,” I answer with just a tinge of humor.
We enter the bar, and I have to scan the room for the group before my eyes land on them, standing in a clump near the bartender. When we approach and I cover Arielle’s eyes from behind, she grabs my hands and squeals, spinning and throwing her arms around me.
“Finally!” she crows, turning to Landon and hugging him, too. Thankfully, he doesn’t hesitate to embrace the tornado of a girl that is my best friend.
“Landon. And you are?” Landon asks when they separate.
“Arielle. Don’t worry, you won’t be able to forget me.” I give him an insistent nod. That is definitely a true statement.
When Haley steps over next, Landon’s eyebrows go up in recognition. “I remember you from Finest Hour. You’re the reason I met this one,” he says, giving me a fond smile.
“Well, I just got her to the bookstore.” Haley smirks and tugs a strand of my hair playfully. “It’s the coffee that kept her coming back. Our Blake just can’t get enough coffee, can she? It must be strong, your coffee. And really, really good.”
“Okay, let’s meet the rest of the group,” I say as my face burns, pulling Landon toward the other couple in the group. I introduce him to Kara, whom Haley knows from work, and she introduces us both to her boyfriend Zach.
Landon and I both order drinks, then we all claim a table along the edge of the room. The usual line of questioning begins, my friends carefully vetting Landon while trying not to let on that they’re doing it. I haven’t told them anything about our updated relationship status; my uncertainty as to how long it will remain that way preventing me from sharing it with the people I’m closest to.
“I do a lot of work with charities across the city. I’m surprised I haven’t run into you at any events,” Arielle implores subtly.
“I don’t really attend events. I prefer to do my work and donate behind the scenes,” Landon answers from beside me. He sounds relaxed, his arm resting casually across the back of the booth, but every now and then, I feel his thumb graze my shoulder. I’m not sure how it’s possible to be so attuned to such a subtle gesture, but even in the middle of a noisy, crowded bar, the lightest touch sends a shudder down my spine.
“I understand, yet you’d be surprised how much business you can drum up at these things.”
Landon shrugs. “I know schmoozing can have its benefits, but I’m enjoying the intimacy of what I have going on; just me, my customers, and the organizations we contribute to. No politics. No bullshit.”
I tense. Arielle is very passionate about the work she does with fundraising events. I’m not sure she would appreciate hearing it referred to as “bullshit.”
Arielle just cocks her head, one side of her mouth curving into a half-smile, and raises her drink with a shrug. “Fair enough. To no bullshit.”
“To no bullshit,” Landon agrees, bumping his glass against hers.
They begin to flesh out the occasional behind-the-scenes drama of some of the events Arielle has worked before, and as always, her charismatic storytelling has us all bent over in laughter.
When there’s a lull in conversation, I slide out of the booth. “Want to come with me to get another drink?”
“Sure.” He downs the rest of his beer and scoots out after me. “Anyone need anything?” he asks, but everyone just shakes their heads.
“They’re an interesting bunch,” I say to him while we wait for our beverages.
“They’re fun, though.”
“Yes. And crazy.”
“Lucky you have me to keep you sane, then,” he says with a smirk.
“Sane? I don’t know about that, Farrar. You’ve been driving me crazy since I met you.”
He runs his hand to the back of my neck and lowers his mouth to mine, giving me a soft, sweet kiss. Arielle’s probably having a cow over at the table right now, so I slip him the tongue to give her a show.
“Same to you, Kendall,” he says, brushing a thumb over my cheek. “Arielle is . . . fiery.”
I laugh, looking back over toward the table where she’s gesturing animatedly about something. “That’s an understatement. She is very passionate about what she does. I’ve told her before I want to help out with one of her events at some point.”
He nods, his eyes tracing my face. “It’s always good to get involved.”
“Yeah, I’ve always admired what Arielle does. And now I have you to keep up with,” I say, patting his firm stomach.
“Good luck with that,” he teases, his confident grin returning.
When we make our way back to the table, the DJ announces a string of throwback jams coming up, and he begins to play “Bye Bye Bye” by NSYNC. Arielle immediately comes sliding out of the booth.
“Set that drink down,” she warns, taking one of my hands in hers.
I immediately shake my head. “You go ahead. I’m going to sit this one out with Landon.”
“Landon will be fine. He has Zach.” She cocks her head toward Kara’s boyfriend, who’s about to be left behind as Haley and Kara both shimmy out of the booth.
I glance helplessly at Landon, but he just shoos me away. “You said you like to dance. It’s about time you show me what you got.”
“Traitor,” I growl. “One dance, then you’ll have to join me if you want me to stay out there looking like a freak show,” I challenge him, and he laughs and nods in acceptance.
Once I set my drink down, Arielle drags me out to the floor where several other people—mostly women—are gyrating and singing in time to the music. Landon told me to show him what I’ve got, so I don’t hesitate to jump into it. We all do our own poor impressions of the music video, lip synching and putting on a performance, and the guys hold up their fingers to rate our dance moves from one to ten. I send rude gestures Landon’s way every time he gives me a number less than ten.
Assuming I would be able to sit down after one song was a mistake, however, because “Pony” by Ginuwine blares through the speakers next. We stay out on the floor for that song and the next, then return to the table, giggling and exhilarated.
“Would you say those moves were more Justin Timberlake or Lance Bass?” Landon asks with an amused grin, and I roll my eyes at him, unable to keep the smile from my face. When you get caught up in the endless cycle of daily life, it’s hard to remember how much a night of dancing moronically, without a care in the world what anyone else thinks, is needed.
“I know you didn’t forget my great moves from the wedding,” I say, taking a long drink.
“Oh no,” he leans his head closer. “Those moves are forever committed to memory.” His tone makes me blush furiously with the help of my buzz.
The night continues just as lightheartedly, and I observe with pleasure as my friends get to know Landon. It still impresses me, how easily he can relate to others. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t see them as a threat to his determinedly solo lifestyle, or because they haven’t frequented his bookstore multiple times in the hopes of seeing him, as I did, but I’ve never fully admitted that last part to him.
At one point in the night, Haley spots someone near the entrance and gives us a mischievous grin before trotting across the room and into the arms of a smartly-dressed man in a pea coat and scarf. When she leads him over to the group, their hands intertwined, I wonder aloud if it’s Daniel.
“Has to be. She did say he was blonde, and he’s giving me major Alexander Skarsgård vibes.” Arielle says, nodding in agreement.
“Everyone, I want you to meet Daniel,” Haley announces when she reaches us, and Arielle and I exchange knowing grins.
We make our introductions, and Landon pulls a chair over for Daniel. He’s more reserved than the rest of us, especially after we’ve had a two-hour head start consuming alcoholic beverages, but he’s friendly and warm, and he practically glows when he looks at Haley. It’s wonderful to see someone return her affection, and also that a new person has arrived to detract some of the attention from Landon and I.
It’s not often that our group stays out until two in the morning, but with Daniel to get to know, and the comradery that’s quick to develop between all of us, the flow of conversation allows time to slip by. Last call is announced, and we stand to gather our purses and shoulder into our coats before braving the cold.
Haley and Daniel say their goodbyes and begin their trek a block over to where his car is parked while the rest of us stop on the sidewalk, and I cling to Landon’s side as we await the arrival of our Uber. It’s a chilly night, with a biting wind that hints of snow, but the alcohol has helped to warm me from the inside out. We’re all laughing and joking with each other, until Zach hands over his ticket to an attendant at the valet stand. I feel Landon immediately stiffen beside me.
“You’re not planning on driving, are you?” he asks in disbelief.
“Uh, yeah. I’ve only had, like, four drinks,” Zach answers, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face.
“In the last hour, maybe,” Landon continues, but Zach just ignores him. Arielle gives me a concerned look, and I shrug helplessly. I stay beside Landon, placing my hand on his back in what I hope is a soothing gesture. He doesn’t seem to notice.
When the attendant pulls the car up to the curb and Zach starts for it, Landon strides forward and into his path. Zach starts to veer around him, but Landon places a hand on his shoulder. Every muscle in my body tenses when I see the challenging look in his eyes. I’ve never seen Landon like this.
“Hold up. I will call every person in your phone to find someone to drive your car home. It’s not worth the risk.”
“There’s no risk.” Zach takes Landon’s hand and forcefully removes it from his shoulder. “I’m fine, dude, just get out of my way.”
Landon doesn’t move, and I begin to step forward, thinking of anything I can say to help convince Zach to find a ride so this ordeal will be over sooner, but Arielle catches onto my elbow.
“There’s only so much he can do, Blake. At the end of the day, it’s Zach’s decision.” I shoot her a look, trying to converse with her without exchanging actual words. This is the wrong decision. She knows what could happen if Zach happens to get distracted and swerve just a few inches out of his lane on the drive home.
“Come on, Kara. Get in the car,” Zach calls over his shoulder, and Kara ducks around Landon to open the passenger door.
As if accepting defeat, Landon’s arms drop to his sides, and he watches the car drive off into the distance until the only thing left is the red glow of the taillights. Just as I’m about to say something, he turns and stalks directly past me, his face twisted in anger. I begin to follow him over to the side of the building, stopping short when he draws his fist back and punches the dumpster with all his might.
“Landon!” I cry, trotting the last few strides. My words don’t seem to penetrate whatever it is going on in his mind right now. He walks away from me, farther along the side of the building, his hands gripping the back of his neck. When he spins to pace toward me, it’s like he looks right through me.
“What the hell was that?” I demand.
“Blake, you going to be okay?” Arielle calls from the sidewalk, her voice wavering with concern.
“Yeah. We’re good here.” I turn back to Landon, my eyebrows lifted to ask if we’re actually good.
Landon blows out a breath, running another hand through hair that’s already disheveled.
My breath fogs in front of me, but I hardly notice the cold anymore. “Are you going to acknowledge that little outburst, or leave me hanging all night?”
“No. Let’s go.” He grabs my hand on his way toward the curb.
“I meant for you to elaborate,” I grumble.
“I’ll elaborate when I’m not so fucking pissed,” he says through gritted teeth. I try to decipher what I can from him other than anger. The red in his face from barely-suppressed rage is beginning to fade, but his expression is still unreadable. The way the muscle in his jaw ticks makes it clear that he intends to keep it firmly closed.
We return to the sidewalk in front of the bar, and I hug Arielle before she leaves, assuring her that Landon and I will be fine. Our car finally arrives, and I climb across the backseat to make room for Landon, not missing the teeth-rattling force with which he slams the door behind him.
I sit back and stare out the window, my mind still reeling from the night’s rapid downturn. During the short time I’ve known Landon, I’ve never seen him come close to losing control like that. Granted, I didn’t want to see Zach take a chance behind the wheel of a car, either, but I wouldn’t punch a dumpster over it.
I glance over, taking in his rigid posture, my gaze trailing down to his hands clasped firmly over his knees. The knuckles on his right hand are scraped and bleeding. Seeing me looking, he wipes the back of his hand on his jeans. He probably won’t tolerate my medical advice just now, so I keep my mouth shut. The remainder of the drive is silent, along with the elevator ride up to my apartment.
Once we walk through the door, I turn to face him. Sometime during the walk up to my place, the anger in his face has withdrawn. Instead of immediately questioning him, I lift his hand by his wrist and carefully inspect the abrasions on his knuckles.
“Will you let me clean this? Your opponent was pretty filthy.” When he doesn’t immediately protest, I take it as a yes. I walk toward the bathroom, and he trails behind me.
Landon leans against the counter beside the sink, and I take advantage of his stillness to more closely examine his hand. As I prod each of his metacarpals, feeling for breaks, I observe his response to the pain. His face is still as stone; he’s either as stubborn as ever, or he hasn’t broken anything. He remains silent as I continue to work, running his hand under lukewarm water and cleaning his wounds with antibacterial soap. I dry his hand with a clean towel and dab some ointment onto each of his knuckles, handling his long fingers deftly with my own.
“It’ll probably hurt when you shower, but I think you’ll live.” He just shrugs, like he couldn’t care less.
Once I’ve wrapped his hand in gauze, I sink down onto the toilet seat. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?”
I didn’t think it was possible to anger him anymore, but his lips turn white when he draws them tightly over his teeth. He stares at the wall across from him for almost a minute before he speaks.
“On November 14th, four years ago, my fiancé was killed in a car accident. I was in the passenger’s seat,” he says in one big exhalation. “We were hit by a drunk driver, who survived.”
My insides jolt, like I took a misstep in the dark, while his words swing like a pendulum between us. The room sways a little, though it might be me swaying on the toilet seat. Landon doesn’t seem to notice. He’s still staring at the wall with the same intensity.
Now, his reaction doesn’t seem so over-the-top, and all the times he’s answered my questions vaguely, or avoided them completely, seems warranted. Every time he tried to rudely brush me off is understood. He told me he lost his fiancé, but I could never have guessed it was under these circumstances. And yet still, I pushed and pushed. I fought my way past his defenses, and now that I’m here, I want to run out screaming. Not because I think he’s damaged beyond repair, or that his response was a huge overreaction, but because I was there, in that other car, on November 14th, 2012. I was in the car that killed his fiancé.
His voice is so unexpected it shatters the silence. “Probably shouldn’t have taken it out on a dumpster, but I’m sure you can understand my reaction. That other driver could have been anybody. It could’ve been you . . . or me. It could’ve been Zach.”
I feel a shift in my stomach and stand abruptly, lifting the lid I was seated on just in time to empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. The alcohol burns way worse on the way up. I feel Landon behind me as he gathers my hair, holding it out of the way until my heaving subsides. I’m too distracted by how horrible I feel to worry if he thinks my reaction was a little extreme.
Once I’m fairly positive there can’t be anything left in my stomach, I sink onto the cold tile floor, my legs as useless as jelly beneath me. Landon leaves my side and I hear the faucet turn on, then he returns with a wet washcloth. He squats down and dabs the cloth across my forehead, shockingly cool against the heat of my skin, before wiping the corners of my mouth.
“You okay?” he asks, settling back on his heels.
“I feel like I should be asking you that.” My voice comes out thin and weak. He’s so perceptive, but I don’t think he’s worked out the connection between us. I know I shouldn’t keep it from him, but I can’t stand the thought of breaking that news to him after the night we’ve had.
“I’m okay. It’s been a long four years, but it gets a little more bearable every day.”
“I’m sorry,” I manage, but he shakes his head, rubbing my back.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” If only he knew how wrong he was. “In fact, I should be apologizing to you. We could’ve moved past this if I had told you sooner. From now on, I’m an open book. No more refusing to answer questions. There won’t be a thing you don’t know about me.”
His words are meant to be soothing, reassuring, but the more he speaks, the more the guilt piles on. I could just fess up now, just get it off my chest so I don’t feel it hovering in the back of my conscience. But I know that if I tell him, there’s a good chance I could lose him, and I can’t imagine adding that to everything that’s happened tonight.
“I think I’m just ready for bed,” I say. It’s an unsatisfying statement, after everything, but it’s all I have.