THE WIND IS COOL AND steady as we step off the porch and away from the house. I let my father lead me. We amble down the driveway for a bit before he takes a detour off the asphalt and towards a little bench near the tree line.

My stomach knots and twists as I try to read his body language. He’s said nothing, indicated nothing, and it has me wanting to just ask him outright what he has to say. Because there’s something. There always is.

Looking towards the house as I take a seat next to my father, I wonder what Dani’s doing. If she’s okay. If she’s nervous or anxious. This kind of thing is new to her, and I have no clue how she’s feeling, and that adds majorly to the chaos inside me.

I want to be with her. My hand around her waist. My ears picking up her giggle, making sure she’s happy and comfortable.

“Lincoln?” Dad’s voice pulls me back to the cold, iron seat. His eyes are on me, but the fire I expected in them isn’t there. I breathe a sigh of relief.

He’s always treated me like the youngest boy in the family. True, I am, but I’m capable. I’ve never needed him, not like Barrett and Ford have. I’ve never asked him for a dime, for a job, or for anything more than a piece of advice and that was only when there was not one other person in the world that knew what I needed to know. Yet, he always seems like I’m hanging by a thread or on the cusp of destroying everything. Sure, I might have wrecked a couple of cars and got tossed from a game . . . or two. But I’m not whatever he thinks I am.

“How are you doing, Son?”

My head bobbles around. “Good. Fine. Everything is chugging along.”

“Therapy going well?”

“Sure.” I toe a rock with my sneaker. “I meet with the management when I get back about the assessment I did yesterday.”

He nods, taking in more than my words. He already knew this, but what he didn’t know is how I feel about it. I’m careful with him. I project what I want him to take away. The way he’s looking at me now has me nearly squirming. He’s putting together every cue I’m emitting.

“I talked to your agent about that briefly yesterday. What’s your plan, Lincoln?”

“For what?”

“For your career.” He blows out a breath, fixing his gaze on something across the lawn. “I’m assuming you want to re-sign in Tennessee.”

“Definitely,” I say without hesitation. “I love it there. They love me there. I’d love to be a franchise player for them.”

“Have you given any thought to being traded?”

The knot winds tighter. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And I’ll have to go,” I nearly bark. When I see his eyes narrow, I relent. “I’m just worried, Dad. I’ve had this over my head for weeks now. I just need an answer so I can get comfortable. Does that make sense?”

His hand clamps on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It does. It’s hard to not know what the future holds. It causes a lot of stress.” His hand falls back to his lap. “That’s the hardest part of elections. You gear up for these things for months, even years sometimes, and have to wait it out. It’s not good for a man’s sanity,” he chuckles.

“How did you handle it?”

“Well . . .” He tosses around the words in his head before speaking. “To tell you the truth, it’s why I stopped campaigning. It’s why I took Landry Holdings to another level. The nerves couldn’t handle it anymore. And neither could your mama.”

“Mom can handle anything,” I laugh.

He shrugs, a smile still on his face. “She’s a tough one. She’s handled this life with the dignity and class of a saint, especially considering who she’s married to,” he winks. “But after my last campaign, we had a sit down. She was really over it. She never once asked me not to run again. She wouldn’t do that. She loves me too much, understands this is in my blood. But she stood beside me and supported me for years, Linc. There had to come a time when I decided to do what was right by both of us.”

This is news to me. I always thought my mom loved the publicity as much as my father. And I also always thought my dad did whatever he wanted. How weird.

“Sounds like you made the right choice then,” I say. “But why did you push Barrett into politics?”

My father takes a deep breath. “From the moment you all were born, I tried to find your strengths. Then push you into areas I thought you might like and things I thought you might excel doing. Barrett is a natural politician. Did I push him too much there? Did I hang too many of my own aspirations on his shoulders? Maybe.”

“I think you did. You know I think that.”

“I know,” he sighs. “And you’re probably right.” His lips press together, the lines on his face deepen. “You want to know what your strengths are?”

“I’m definitely the best looking.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re wrong. I am,” he deadpans, making me laugh. “You can do anything. You can do everything you want to do with such ease, it’s crazy.”

I still. I have never heard him talk like this before and I’m not sure whether he means it or if he’s going to start laughing.

“You are one hell of a baseball player, Lincoln. Watching you on the field, reading your name in the paper gives me so much pride . . . You’ll never understand it until you have a son of your own.”

“I just hope I haven’t fucked it up,” I say through the tightness in my chest.

“Here’s the thing,” he says, his hands on his knees as he watches a car come towards us on the driveway. “Regardless of what happens in your career, you’re going to be fine. There are seasons of our lives. Look at me. I was a businessman. Then a politician. Then a businessman again. Now, I’m thinking about retiring altogether.”

“You are?”

“Ford’s coming home. The company is branching out. Graham is doing a fine job.” He smiles softly. “I’m tired, Linc. I want to sit back and maybe have some grandkids driving me nuts. I want to take your mother on some vacations and have my phone stop ringing so damn much. I’m getting old, kid.”

My jaw is hanging open. I barely register the car has stopped and someone is walking towards us. I just look at him and watch him laugh at my reaction.

“What I’m saying is this: don’t worry too much. What’s done is done. We don’t always see eye to eye and part of that is because you’re a lot like your old man, Lincoln,” he chuckles. “You’re hard-headed. You’re a man’s man. You’re opinionated, and while that makes me want to strangle the life out of you sometimes, I also respect that.”

“Wow,” I whisper, exhaling a deep breath.

“Graham’s coming, so I want to say this quick and be done,” he says quickly. “Out of all my children, you are the one I worry about the least. Yes, I may second guess you and question your decisions, but it’s only because I want to make sure you’ve thought it through. But, like me, you’ll figure out a way to succeed. Nothing will hold you back.”

He pats me on the leg, stands, and heads across the lawn to meet Graham. I just watch, speechless, unsure as to what the hell just happened.