Waiting for Ty by Samantha Ann King Read Free Book Online Page A

Her love and warmth had filled their home when he was growing up. It was hard to imagine his life without that love. But her faith was strong, and her church’s interpretation of God’s word was law. Ever since he’d realized what he was, the love that he’d taken for granted, that had once embraced him, now seemed fake, glossed over, brittle. Because the truth was his family didn’t know him. If they did, that love would shatter.
    He and Landon had screwed up last night. He didn’t need a brainstorming session to know that. If they couldn’t go back to the way things were, they would have to end their friendship.
    Just the thought of it left him feeling empty.
    Scared.
    Sick to his stomach.
    Landon was pretty easygoing, so he might be okay with Ty’s crawdadding, his skittish retreat back to the hole he’d been hiding in until yesterday. Hell, Landon might even be relieved. Either way, Ty didn’t think he’d force the issue.
    He didn’t want to lead Landon on. Landon was an optimist. Had to be in his line of work. If anything was more hopeless that finding a cure for cancer, Ty didn’t know what it was. And yet, Landon truly believed that scientists would find a cure in his lifetime.
    Fucking optimist. He loved that about him.
    A long, deep sigh escaped him. Ty had to make it clear that they couldn’t be anything more than friends. Couldn’t even be friends with benefits. Sitting in a parking lot trying to avoid that discussion wasn’t going to make it any easier. A couple of beers might.
    No. The beers had gotten him into this situation. The beers and basketball.

Chapter Eight
    Landon inhaled the mouthwatering smoke sifting from the sides of the small round grill, where the steaks were searing. His stomach growled. From the lone, plastic chair on the balcony, he saw Ty’s white, extended-cab pickup lumber into the parking lot. His heart lurched like a drunken frat boy. All day he’d worried about what Ty would say when he returned.
    He stood, rolled his head and shoulders, trying to loosen the tension in his neck and back, then leaned into the wrought iron railing. When Ty climbed out of the truck, Landon lifted his hand in acknowledgement. Ty gave a short wave back and then slammed the truck door. The alarm chirped and the headlights flashed. He looked good in his khaki chinos, white dress shirt and blue-patterned tie, but Landon had to admit that he preferred him in worn blue jeans and a T-shirt.
    His navy jacket hooked on a finger over his shoulder, Ty crossed the parking lot, his normally loose-hipped gait stiff. Landon tried not to guess what that meant as he opened the sliding glass door and headed to the kitchen for a beer. He met Ty with the front door open and extended the longneck.
    Ty shook his head. “I need to eat something first.”
    “Soda?” he offered.
    “Yeah. I’ll get it.”
    Landon’s appetite abandoned him at the hopeless expression on Ty’s face, but he forced himself to sound upbeat, unconcerned. “Steaks are almost done. While you’re in the kitchen, can you get the plates and stuff and take the potatoes out of the oven?”
    “Sure.” Ty headed for the kitchen. “Smells great. I’m starving.”
    His heart pounding, Landon tried to keep his step light when he walked back to the balcony to check the steaks. It’ll be okay , he told himself. Hands shaking, he lifted the grill’s lid and pressed a finger in the center of each of the two New York strips. Medium rare. Perfect. Too bad he wouldn’t be able to appreciate them.
    When he carried them inside, Ty had already set the bar with two white ceramic plates, forks, steak knives and paper towels. Landon slid the platter of steaks on the bar between their dinner plates. “Give ’em a few minutes to rest and we’ll be ready to go,” he said.
    Ty snagged a potholder, opened the oven door, grabbed a huge baked potato and put it on Landon’s plate before repeating the process with his own. He closed the oven door with