Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
* * *
“You’re allowed to hurt, darlin’.” Like his words, his stare was soft and unyielding. “And I know that no matter what I tell you, you’re not gonna stop protectin’ your mother. But I don’t know if you’ve noticed, I’m kind of a badass,” he grinned. “You don’t have to protect me from shit. You can hurt, Violet. It’s okay.”
Maybe it was his steady and understanding voice, maybe it was the creeping exhaustion of the past few months, maybe it was just because I couldn’t pretend anymore, but the second Swiss put his arms around me, I buried my face in his chest and sobbed.
For a long time.
I did not attend my father’s funeral.
My grandparents did not mention it when they arrived in Garnett a few days after Declan’s birth. They looked tired. My grandmother didn’t look as flawless as she usually did; her eyes were red, the creases in her face deeper somehow.
But she still fussed endlessly over Declan, still arranged all the gifts she bought him around the adorable nursery.
My grandfather was quiet. He, like everyone else, doted on the new member of the family, but his smiles were sad, his eyes looking at his grandson but also seeing the son he had lost. I know both of them felt uncertain about their connection to him, worried that they had no claim. I also knew Swiss had some kind of talk with them that changed the atmosphere. Made them surer of their roles.
He was a good person. The best.
My mother and brother were safe with him. I was safe with him.
As long as I kept my secrets, my truth, far from him. It was at some point during the time spent at home after Declan’s birth that I realized how bad things would get if he ever found out about me and Elden.
It would break apart the idyllic family they’d worked so hard to create. So even though it hurt me, even though it killed me, I did not seek Elden out again while I was back in Garnett.
He didn’t seek me out either.
It hurt. Even though I was a woman, was capable of making the first move, going out and getting what I wanted. I couldn’t make that choice. Couldn’t decide to go and ruin both of our lives.
And as horrible as it was for me, I resented him for not making that choice either.
It hadn’t rained in two months.
Which was why I didn’t hear from him.
The bitter cold brought biting wind, dreary days and the threatening prospect of snow. But it never did.
And it didn’t rain.
So Elden didn’t call.
Even though I’d been faced with hard truths in Garnett, after Declan’s birth, I’d had some kind of warped idea that that night might’ve changed something. Might’ve shifted things between us.
But of course, Elden was still beholden to the club, though he never said it out loud. I knew I’d never be his. Not with my stepfather being his brother in everything but blood. I may not have had a huge amount of experience with outlaw motorcycle clubs, but I was quickly understanding the dynamics, and it was easy to see how seriously they took their commitment to the club.
It sent me into a spiraling depression. Probably not entirely because of Elden. I assumed at least part of it was about my father’s death and everyone tiptoeing around me, waiting for me to have some kind of reaction. Any kind of reaction. Sariah was worried. She’d gently suggested I go to see her therapist—it had helped her greatly. It was a good idea, I knew that. It was healthy. And it was irresponsible for me to shove things down. Still, I’d refused just as gently as she’d offered.
She also didn’t leave me alone, dragging me to and from every party she went to—which was a lot—even though we were both bogged down with work due before the Christmas break.
There was barely a moment to pause, to suck down coffee and scarf some muffins that Ollie made before I was out the door, back only to shower and change into whatever outfit suited the theme of whatever party we were going to.
One of the many parties was where I met him.
When I was vulnerable, angry and vicious enough not to gently rebut his advances. Because as much as I wanted to tell every guy who hit on me to go and fuck himself, I couldn’t since once a man was rejected, he was unpredictable. He could’ve spiked my drink, followed me home to try to rape me... That kind of thing.
Or maybe I was just sick of rejecting them. Maybe I was sick of looking down my nose at college boys, measuring them up against a man I would never have.
The reason didn’t matter much. All that mattered was that I met him, let him flirt with me, let him take me out on dates. When he mentioned his parents were in Europe for Christmas and he didn’t have the time to go because of his winter internship—I didn’t even know those were a thing—I invited him back to Garnett with me.