That caused a bit of laughter as they stared at one another, settling into a comfortable silence. Landon watched Dr. Adams as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back comfortably in the seat. His leg followed, one crossing over the other. Landon couldn’t help it. Dr. Adams oozed a natural, maybe even instinctual, sophistication. He was a classy guy, something Landon had wished for in his life, but had never been able to achieve.
“It seemed to work out for you.” Dr. Adams’s grin broadened as his eyes slid down the length of Landon’s battered body. “All things considered.”
“You’ve got jokes.” Landon chuckled, enjoying the easiness between them. “My parents are proud of me now, but I carried guilt for a good long time. My father still struggles with my sexuality. It’s hard on him, but he tries. That’s all I can ask for.”
“Yeah, guilt can rip you to pieces and sometimes those pieces never quite fit back together again, no matter how hard you try to twist and turn them.” Dr. Adams gave a resigned sigh as he reached for the paperback on the tray. “So, are you ready for me to read?”
Landon didn’t like hearing the rawness in the doctor’s tone. The words were packed full of emotion; the earlier smile had vanished as Dr. Adams scrubbed his hand down the length of his face. The friendliness they had shared vanished. Walls seemed to drop between them or maybe the walls were dropping to protect Dr. Adams from the world. Either way, it wasn’t good. Landon watched the doctor open the book. He couldn’t decide if he should bring up his role as honor guard in Avery Adams’s funeral. In the end, he decided against it. Something told him he needed to tread lightly.
The soft, even snores had Robert looking up from the book to find Landon sound asleep. He looked around the room, spotted the clock on the wall, surprised to see it was almost nine at night. He moved the feather bookmark back two pages, not a hundred percent sure when Landon had fallen asleep.
He stared at the thin metal bookmark before sliding his fingers up the feather’s shaft. He wasn’t sure what happened today to solidify his certainty of signs, but without a doubt, there was meaning to this feather. Not only this one but all the others that kept materializing in the strangest places since he’d found the one floating across the top of a LRMC brochure—the whole reason he was even in this hospital to begin with. Robert pulled the small feather from his pocket that he had found at his feet seconds before he entered Landon’s room for the first time last night. When had he gotten to the point of keeping them like some long-lost treasure?
He conceded that there was no question he felt better inside these four walls than he had in a long time. He didn’t know Landon any more than anyone else in this hospital—hell, in the whole country for that matter—but Landon had a settling way about him, countering Robert’s newfound negativity and giving him a much-needed breather.
“You’re being weird,” he muttered to himself as his eyes were drawn back to the sleeping man.
Robert closed the book, crossed one leg over the other, and reached for the glass of water he’d been sipping to help keep his voice from growing hoarse. He couldn’t force his gaze away from Landon. Gay. He didn’t know why he was surprised, but he had been. In another place and time, he suspected he’d be all over those dark good looks. Landon looked Mediterranean, dark hair, dark eyes, olive complexion, and built like a brickhouse—all of it just Robert’s type.
Who the hell was he kidding? Landon wouldn’t be interested in a train wreck like him. Landon had a different meaning to his life, and Robert marveled at Landon’s strength of character. It amazed Robert to meet people who came from adversity and changed their course in life. He knew nothing of overcoming the odds to achieve. His life had been handed to him on a silver platter. His dad would have truly liked Landon.
Robert had had a real conversation with Landon tonight, something he rarely ever did, and he was better for it now. He had reminisced over his life, opened up in a way he certainly hadn’t done since his fathers’ deaths. He took another drink from the almost empty water glass and continued to stare openly at Landon.
Landon had asked him direct questions, but never pressured him to answer. Where Autumn was a natural at evading questions, Robert wasn’t. He remembered one summer, sitting on the back porch of his Minnesota childhood home waiting on a reporter from a magazine to arrive to interview the entire family. His dad drilled him and his sister with pre-questions. Every single time Robert answered honestly, much to his father’s growing frustration. In the end, his dad encouraged him to just play mute. That had pretty much become his strategy on life since then.
Robert looked down at his lap, a silly smile playing on his lips as he remembered Avery calling to Kane, telling him there was no question Robert was his son. Maybe his dad would have been proud of him tonight for his evasiveness. More than anything, he wished his father was there with him to hear all the glowing praise Landon had given him.
Instead of going down that dark rabbit hole again, Robert stood, moving closer to Landon’s bedside. He carefully adjusted the pillows, giving his patient’s bandaged arm more support. Landon moved, those long, thick dark eyelashes fluttered open.
