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I worked my throat a few times to make sure I could actually speak before saying anything, but even then, I felt dead when I said, “I will always love you. Nothing can change that. Happy birthday, Harlow.”
I couldn’t end the call fast enough. I couldn’t get away fast enough; but I also couldn’t move.
I don’t know how long I’d been standing there in the rain when someone said, “Whatever you did, that’s a good start, man—but it’s only a start.”
It took a few seconds to comprehend the voice was talking to me. I looked up at the guy walking in my direction away from Harlow’s dorm, and gave him a confused look.
He gestured to the flowers in my hand—red poppies. “You look like shit and you’re holding flowers. It’s a good start, but you’re better off buying something she can show off. Know what I mean? Sure way to make them happy and forget whatever happened.” He laughed and smacked my shoulder as he walked past me, but it was enough to get me to move.
I turned around and headed back toward the parking lot, only stopping to hand over the flowers to the first girl I passed. As soon as I was in my car, I sat there for what felt like hours playing with the ring I’d had in my pocket before finally putting it back in the box it had come in, and started the drive back to Seattle.
I’d known it was crazy, and probably a long shot, but I’d gone to Harlow’s dad a week before she’d left for college to ask if I could marry her. It had been a long talk that had ultimately ended in me promising that we wouldn’t get married until she graduated, among some other conditions, but he’d given me his blessing to ask her after she turned eighteen, and I’d gone to buy a ring that night.
Because I’d known that nothing would come between us. And now, all I wanted to do was blame her dad. The conversation I’d had with him months ago flashed through my mind, and I bit back a curse because I knew this was his fault . . . all of it was his fault.
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Mr. Evans said after long minutes of staring blankly at the floor. “Knox, you may ask her to marry you, but there are conditions.”
I straightened in the chair and tried to contain my smile. “Anything.”
“She needs to graduate before you get married.”
I wanted to remind him that that was another four years away, but still didn’t care as long as it meant she was mine. “Done.”
“And this one might be harder for you . . .”
“Harder than waiting another four years?” I teased, but Mr. Evans didn’t seem to find it funny.
“When she leaves for school in a week, I want her to try to enjoy it.”
“Of course,” I immediately agreed.
Mr. Evans shook his head. “Knox, the wife and I like you. Not many young men would treat our daughter with the respect you have, and that quickly earned our respect. However, we’re worried that her mind is so focused on you that she will miss out on life, which is why we pushed her to go away to school instead of staying in Seattle. If all she thinks about is making it to her eighteenth birthday, then she won’t try to enjoy her time when she is away from you—do you understand?”
“I’m not sure,” I said slowly, but I was worried I did.
“You’ve always given her space, but not the kind of space I think she should have when she leaves. You’ve let her be her own person, but she needs to decide who she is now, and she can’t do that with you always there beside her. She sees her future as Harlow and Knox; I need her to see what it could be as just Harlow. Like I said, the wife and I like you, and I would be glad to have Harlow marry you . . . but I want her to be sure this is what she wants once she finally gets to be on her own and makes her own decisions. I don’t want my daughter to ever look back on her life and regret it. You look confused,” he grumbled, and searched for the words to explain himself.
I didn’t need him to explain more. I got it . . . I just didn’t like it.
“Now, I’m not asking you to push her into dating other guys. Just make sure she enjoys her time there, and lives a normal college student life. The constant phone calls, the flowers—they should be scaled back. Way back. I would ask you not to call her at all, but I don’t think you’d respect that wish, and my daughter may never forgive me for it. And you may not have been dating my daughter the last couple of years, but to everyone else that is what it has looked like, and, son, I don’t want her to go away to school with a boyfriend. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
My heart sank as I realized exactly how far he wanted me to take this. “I can’t . . . I can’t break up with her.”
“I’m just asking you not to be the boyfriend you technically aren’t yet, okay?”
I nodded hesitantly, and he tried to give me a reassuring smile.
“Even though those few months don’t seem like much, those first few months away from home are everything, as I’m sure you remember. So, if you are what she wants once they’re over . . . then you may ask my daughter to marry you. And, Knox, I have no doubt that you will be asking my daughter to marry you.”
I nodded once and shook his hand. I also had no doubt that come Harlow’s eighteenth birthday, I would be doing just that.
But now none of that mattered. Graham and Deacon had been right. All of the waiting, and all of the time spent getting ready for this day, had been a game for Harlow. And now the game was over.
Present Day—Richland
THE SHAKING IN my arms and legs abruptly stopped when the call to Harlow went straight to voice mail. Ending the call, I waited a couple of seconds before tapping on her name again, and held my breath until I got the same result.
“Shit,” I hissed, and dropped my phone onto the table I was sitting at. She’s okay, I chanted to myself over and over again. Give her another thirty minutes.
