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Sariah was happy to have her partner in crime back and made me tell her everything about Garnett and the Sons of Templar.
Elden called when it rained.
If I was driving, we spoke for however long it took to get to my next destination. I drove extra slowly and lingered in my car for as long as I could. We didn’t venture into the more dangerous topics … like what the calls meant or if he was seeing anyone else, though I tortured myself with the memory of that woman coming out of his room.
He asked about my classes. His tone got deep and tight if I mentioned lack of sleeping and eating. I didn’t even mention the partying, which there was a lot of. I asked him precious little about his life in Garnett because those questions were much too dangerous. I asked him about what he was reading, and then the second I got off the phone with him, I bought that exact book so we talked about it the next time he called. Once, there was a barking in the background of one of our calls.
“Did the club get a puppy?” I asked, no longer focusing on the rain or the tightness in my chest. In fact, the only tightness I got in my chest when it rained was caused by the excitement I felt hearing Elden’s voice.
“No,” Elden answered. He was a man of few words, but it was rare that he answered using only one.
“There’s a dog in the background,” I pointed out.
Elden sighed audibly. “You’re not gonna stop askin’ about the dog, are you?”
“Nope. I love dogs. I always wanted one, but my father never allowed them.” My breath caught as I realized I’d mentioned him. I never did that. Not even in passing.
“Local shelter calls me,” Elden began, filling the silence. His voice was deep, smooth. It calmed me. “If they get a dog in that they can’t get adopted here and need someone to transport it to a family outside of the city or state. They don’t have enough funding for that. So I do it.”
I digested that information. “So you rescue puppies?” I asked on a whisper.
“I transport dogs across state lines when I have the time,” he corrected.
I grinned. “You rescue puppies,” I sang, my fondness for this man growing with every passing second.
“You should have a home,” I decided. “One that isn’t a room in a clubhouse. One that has space. Land. For dogs.” I thought about the space I’d been designing for him in my head. “Open plan,” I continued. “Lots of windows. Nothing closed in. So you feel free.”
Elden didn’t say anything for a long time. All I heard was the barking.
“Are you there?” I asked, concerned.
“Yeah, baby, I’m here,” he said, his low tone wrapping around me.
It had changed something, me talking about a home. Me talking about his future. I didn’t know what exactly it was... But we didn’t speak for the rest of the drive.
I found myself praying, hoping for rain, scouring the weather forecast just so I could go out driving in circles when rain was predicted. Sure, it was a little crazy, but Elden made me abandon sanity. I might’ve been living a college life and even enjoying it, but I only felt partially whole there. Whatever free time I had was spent imagining what life would be like if I was with Elden.
I was getting to know that. In small slices. On rainy days.
My need for him hadn’t dimmed. Not even a little.
I couldn’t bring myself to even drunkenly make out with the many frat boys Sariah had pushed into my arms. I wished I could because that would be some juvenile way of punishing him. But the whole point was to have himstopseeing me as a child.
Those thoughts were swirling in my mind, along with a mild hangover and stress about an assignment due at midnight tonight, as I walked across campus.
I didn’t even notice him until he was standing in my path. I almost bumped into him. I didn’t recognize him at first, and I reacted on instinct, my hackles going up, alarm bells ringing in my head to get away from this man. He didn’t fit in with even the scruffiest of the hipsters. He was out of place here, everyone giving him a wide berth, but I’d been too caught up in my own head.
“Sorry,” I muttered, glancing up, intending on walking quickly away.
But then I focused a little more on him.
“Dad?” I stuttered. The word came out on instinct, even though I’d sworn black and blue to anyone who would listen that he wasn’t that to me anymore. Well, I didn’t talk about my father, so I didn’t swear to everyone, but I reassured my mother every time she brought him up that I was done with him, and I didn’t want to talk about it. I knew it bothered her. Knew that she carried a lot of guilt for something that wasn’t hers to carry. I knew she worried about me endlessly, which was why I was still playing the part. I was still Violet, her sensible, well-mannered daughter with radical ideas to be sure, but not to be worried about.
Certainly not the Violet who did drugs, got abortions and became infatuated with bikers almost twice her age. It saddened me, the lies I told my mother to protect her. That the reality of experiencing adult type things—the things I had been so anxious to experience—had created a distance I never could’ve imagined having with my mother.
But the biggest lies I told her were when I spoke about my father.
When I said my biological father was dead to me.
