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“Whatever I want?” he asked, his voice almost a growl. “If I beg down on my knees, will you please tie me up?”

Sometimes Landry needed to be rendered completely helpless to allow his brain to just shut off. In the following moment of vulnerability, when there was no choice but to surrender to me and trust in me, everything could just stop. He was asking me now for the peace that only I could provide for him even as I recognized his desire for the reset even sooner.

“Yes,” I assured him.

He was instantly breathless. “Thank you.”

I could tell from the way his hands were clutching at me that he needed something else. The problem was that I had no idea what it was.

The landing, getting off the plane, getting our luggage, all of that was easy. It was when I told Chris that we were going to rent a car that he balked.

“My father sent our driver to pick us up; he’ll be at your disposal when we get home. You don’t need to get a car, Trevan.”

I cleared my throat. “We do.”

“I just—”

“If we need to leave, we need a car,” Landry said flatly, eyes leveled on his brother. “So let us rent the car or we’ll just get back on the plane. Your choice.”

Chris wasn’t happy. He told me, leaning in, whispering harshly over my shoulder, that he felt I was adding tension that had not even been necessary. I wasn’t going to argue; it was how I needed it to be. I had to have an escape route, and I was much too independent to ask for permission. If I wanted to go, I would go, and that was it.

“I’m starving,” Landry told me minutes later.

“I called Mom last night and told her when we would be in; she’s having breakfast catered this morning.”

I looked at Landry, surprised and a little intimidated. How rich was his family? Catered.

He shook his head, disgusted.

“What?”

“Typical.”

Typical?

Once we were in the silver Dodge Charger following the black Audi sedan, I asked what he meant.

“It’s just like I told you they were. They’re not like your mom or your aunts or your sister. Breakfast for me for the first time in eight years—catered.”

“It’s nice.” I shrugged. “I mean, this way no one has to get up. It’s like being at a restaurant, you can all just talk.”

He was quiet, and I reached out and took his hand, lacing my fingers into his.

“You know what I’d like?” he said.

“What’s that?”

“I’d like you to pull over so I can give you a blow job.”

I rolled my eyes. “Or, you can think about what you’re gonna say in the next half an hour.”

He sighed deeply and looked away from me.

I so wanted to ask him about what Chris had told me, but I really didn’t want to sound like I doubted his word. We would go with his recollection of the events until it was proven that he was wrong. If he was.

It took a lot longer than half an hour to get to Landry’s childhood home. We passed the strip and just kept going. I had never seen so many mansions, golf courses, and long private drives. The one that led to the Carter home was a mile in and tree lined, so it was like driving under an arbor the whole way. The grounds looked like a botanical garden. There was a man-made lake, and when we were almost to the house, we were suddenly driving over cobblestones. The house was huge—I couldn’t see anything else—and it looked like a giant white Spanish-tiled movie set.

“Holy fuck” was all I could think of to say as I leaned forward over the steering wheel and laughed. “Are you shitting me?”