He laughs under his breath. “Easton, I watched you get thrown off a moving car when you were ten and you barely winced. There’s no way you’re crying over a piece of glass in your foot.”
God, could this night get worse? I can’t believe he’s acting like nothing happened and that I’m crying over him again infrontof him. I’m over this. I don’t care if there’s glass in my foot and blood on my dress.
“Fuck you,” I snap. I try to hop down, but he steps forward and keeps me in place.
“Please stay,” he says, “and hear me out?”
God, I hate this fluttering thing in my chest, this hopefulness. Why has it not been crushed to death by the number of times Elijah’s tried to kill it off? Tonight in the bathroom, five years ago.
“I’m getting whiplash from your personality changes, Elijah,” I tell him, though I don’t sound as angry as I’d intended.
“I know,” he says, “but this is the last one you’ll ever have to deal with, I swear.”
I want to stay mad. I want to reserve judgment. Already it’s a struggle. “You probably ought to go get your car out of the street,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “I’ve wanted to say this for so many years. The car is the least of my concerns. I love you. I have always loved you. And for a long time I thought I was protecting you, and I didn’t realize until tonight that...you don’t need me to do that. You’re brilliant and capable and deserve to decide for yourself.”
He sits beside me. I allow him to take my hand though I shouldn’t.
“Decide what?” I ask faintly.
“Let’s start by talking about what happened five years ago,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “When you ended things? We’ve been over that.”
He shakes his head. “No. Before that. Let’s talk about what happened after I dropped you off.”
37
ELIJAH
I’d waited so long, too goddamn long, for Easton.
I’d wanted her before I’d even realized that was what I felt. All those years she spent informing me we’d be getting married? I’d laughed, but I think some part of me suspected she was right.
And even after I did realize it, I knew she was too young. I didn’t want her to spend a single minute of college and med school thinking about some guy back home. I’d planned to wait even longer, but that night at the party, when she smiled at me from across the room, it was as if she’d armed an explosive I wasn’t able to defuse—I stalked toward her as if she’d disappear if I didn’t get there soon enough and was undressing her in the garage a few minutes later.
I couldn’t sleep after I dropped her off. There were conversations we’d still need to have—I didn’t want her giving anything up on my behalf, but she’d need to understand why I had to remain in Oak Bluff at least half the time before this went further, and that required telling her about my mom.
Here’s how sure I was that it was all gonna work out: I stayed up scheduling the weekends I could fly to Boston before Easton’s winter break. I even booked a flight.
It was just before dawn that I gave up on sleep entirely and went downstairs, freezing when I reached the main floor. Outside, in the grey-black morning air, a lump sat on the front porch. As I got closer I realized it was Bud Walsh, Easton’s dad.
Maybe he’d heard we were together. Maybe someone had seen us at the party. No matter what he thought he knew, Easton was too old to have her dad here settling a score, and I wasn’t going to take shit from a guy who’d been as poor a parent as he’d been.
He was asleep—his head pressed to the porch railing, but he woke with a snort when I opened the door, looking around as if he didn’t know how he’d gotten here.
It was only when he saw me that he seemed to remember.
“What’s your plan, Elijah?” he asked, his voice tired but sober.
“My plan?”
He ran his hands over his shaved head. “I saw you in front of the house with my daughter, so I want to know what your fucking plan is.”
I was tempted to slam the door and walk away. Where did this asshole get off acting like a concerned parent?
“You gave her a black eye when she was just a kid, but now you want to act like you care?”
