Rush (Roam Series, Book Four) Page 3

  The pure joy that ran through my bloodstream was quickly replaced by my pride. The first loving gesture he’s ever shown you, and you respond like an eager five-year-old.

  “Goodnight,” I replied stiffly, turning away from him.

  I waited until I heard the bedroom door close before sighing, laying back on the couch.

  “Shit just got real,” Logan said, dropping to the arm chair near the back window. “I’m going to dig up something to eat in the kitchen. Are you hungry?”

  “No, we just ate an hour ago.”

  “I know. God- I feel like I’m always hungry.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re so huge and- ripped.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied. I opened my eyes, watching him flex his arm into a dramatic pose on the chair, his thumb and forefinger framing his jaw in an L. He raised one eyebrow, sending a smoldering look my way.

  I burst out laughing, shaking my head and pinching my eyes closed again. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Maybe I should wash a load of laundry- on my abs.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I fought the urge to cover my mouth, my smile refusing to leave my lips.

  “Everything is bigger- in 1955.”

  “How nice for you,” I slung my arm over my face, curling my lips inward to stop laughing. “Do you need some alone time with yourself?”

  “No no, I’ll share my incredibly hot presence with you. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Oh, wow, thanks,” I sighed, resisting the urge to steal another glance his way.

  I listened to him move around in the kitchen, wondering about his relationship with Roam. It’s obvious that he still loves her. I was surprised he could even tolerate being in the same room with West.

  Maybe he just doesn’t have a choice.

  I must have fallen asleep. Hours later, the crying baby snapped me back into reality, and I watched as West paced calmly by the back door with Eva in his arms. His mouth moved in a half-song, and his face radiated with devotion. “Shh… I have you… I have you now,” he repeated lovingly.

  I tucked my hands into my pockets, clearing my throat. “Um…where’s Logan?”

  “Out guarding Troy,” he answered in the same even tone, still gazing down at Eva.

  The sun was masked by dark storm clouds; the ocean beat against the shore relentlessly. “How is she doing?”

  “She’s hungry,” he cradled her in his arms, lifting her to press a kiss to her forehead. “I just can’t believe she’s here… thank God she’s here.”

  The reverence in his voice told the story of centuries of heartache. How many times has he lost her? And now, here she is, right in his arms.

  I stretched and stood, walking to them. “Do you want me to take her, so you can wake up Roam?”

  “No, I’m going to let her sleep as long as possible. You can help me change her diaper, though,” he suggested with an excited grin, lifting his eyes to mine.

  I nodded, yawning. “Sure.”

  He held my gaze, lowering his voice. “I have so much to say to you, Violet. When we’re alone, and we have each other’s attention, okay?”

  Surprised, I nodded eagerly, my childish need for him once again rearing its ugly head.

  “For now, I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you. You’re so brave… and beautiful,” he added, moving closer. I fought the lump that rose into my throat, taking a steadying breath. “I just want you to know that I love you… and have loved you… all of your life. I don’t expect you to acknowledge me as your father, but I hope that you’ll at least accept that I care about you very much.”

  I looked down and focused on the hardwood floor. My heart slammed against my chest as I felt his kiss on my head… the same kiss he’d given my infant sister only moments before.

  Adrenaline rising, I lifted my face to his, the thousands of unspoken words that I’d been holding back over the years crying to come out. “Did you know when my mom was gone?”

  To his credit, his steady gaze never left mine. “Yes.”

  “You knew that I was only nine years old, alone, and still didn’t come for me?”

  Pain. My words did more damage than any weapon could. His jaw clenched. “I could try to apologize, or explain, but I don’t think that’s what you want right now.”

  “How do you know what I want?” I narrowed my eyes, knowing they matched his watery, blue gaze exactly. “I’ve been in four foster homes, West. Four. Do you want to know why I had to leave three of them?” He cradled Eva closer as my voice rose, and I shifted my eyes to the floor, shaking my head. “Never mind. I’ll be outside.”

  I barely made it out of the back door before breaking into a run. The rain cooled my burning eyes, and I stopped at the shore, taking deep, steadying breaths.

  Two came to mind. I organized my foster homes by number, and Two by far was the worst. I only thought of Two at my very darkest times, and involuntarily, I longed for the imaginary hero who had never come to save me.

  Only then did I realize that the hero I was waiting for was my father.

  “You okay?”

  “I just need to be alone, Logan.”

  I spoke without turning.

  “You should get out of the rain.”

  I turned to him. “I’ve never had a cold in my life.”

  “Well, if the prophecy is over… then you may not be immortal anymore, either. Since we don’t know where all this fun immortality is coming from, you’d better take care of yourself.”

  “Where it’s coming from? It’s coming from him. Obviously. And that baby is probably just like I am. He just gets to start over, you know? From scratch. It’s not fair.”

  “I wouldn’t call this ‘starting over.’ Roam and their baby have been murdered six times. Well, seven, if you include the pool at the high school. Try to put your dear-diary drama away and cut the teen-angst shit for about five minutes and look at the big picture, okay?”

  With that, he turned and stalked back to the house.

  My mouth hung open as I watched him leave, the rain picking up and dampening my hair. He’s right. I have to be mature. It was possible that his scolding was more effective because he looked older than he actually was, but whatever the case, I went back into the house to help with Eva.

  I thought about Logan for the rest of the morning. While I was irritated with this brutal honesty, I… welcomed it. He didn’t say what he thought I wanted to hear, he said what was on his mind. He was obviously attracted to me; I caught him gaping at my chest about seven times before noon. Aside from that, I decided that we could probably be friends.

  We were a lot alike.

  After lunch, Logan and Roam curled up in the big bed for a nap, and I tried to ignore my unfounded jealousy. Seriously- this is not the Bachelorette. Focus on finding Mom.

  “Violet, can we talk for a while?”

  West’s voice interrupted me as I scrubbed at the lunch dishes. I shrugged, drying my hands on a towel near the sink.

  “I guess.”

  He sat down at the table, and I chose the seat next to him to prove that I wasn’t intimidated by him. His bearded face added a few years to his appearance, but even so, he could barely pass for thirty. And if I saw him on the street, I’d know, without a doubt, that he was my father. How is that possible?

  “Where would you like me to begin?” He asked gently. I sat back, shrugging again.

  “The beginning?”

  “The beginning,” he repeated, his eyes sparkling in the fifties-era pendant light hanging over the table. “I came in the cottage I’d built for your mom one day after work, completely covered in car grease. It’d been the shittiest day I’d had in a long time, and the heat wave passing through Jefferson soaked me on the way home.”

  “Laurel ran to me in the driveway, dragging me out of the car to tell me she was pregnant. I’d never seen her so excited,” his voice trailed to silence.

  I sat perfectly still.

>   “The day you were born, when I held you in my arms… it was the happiest moment of my life, Violet.”

  “You didn’t wish I was Roam’s child?”

  “Absolutely not. I loved your mother.”

  “Why’d you leave, then?”

  He dropped his light smile, looking down at the grooves in the table top. “Your mom became very depressed. She… wasn’t herself. One day, I came home from the shop for lunch.” He stopped speaking, and I leaned closer.

  “What?” I encouraged, waiting.

  “I found you in the crib. You weren’t breathing.”

  “What happened to me?”

  “I don’t know for sure. But I began CPR, and you started breathing again.”

  “What made you think that I was immortal? CPR probably saved me.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he cleared his throat, his words pained. “Laurel… your mother… admitted that it wasn’t the first time you’d… died.”

  The bridge of my nose began to burn. I looked down, pressing my fingertips into my temple.

  “She was very depressed after you were born. I worked so much, and she was alone with you…,”

  I knew what was coming. The tears started, no matter how much I fought them back.

  “She did an awful thing. Twice.”

  That was it. I began to cry, my voice disappearing in my throat. Barely able to form hoarse words, I lifted my eyes to his.

  “My own mother tried to… kill me?”

  I remembered the long days she’d spend in bed, and the intense crying spells. I was only seven or eight years old when I begged her to tell me what was wrong, what I did wrong, why was she crying?

  “She went on medication. It helped. Violet, she loved you so much. She just needed help, but I didn’t see that. I began to piece things together… I had a strong suspicion that you were immortal, like me. I knew the numbers were coming, so I had to leave... I couldn’t put either of you in danger. The day I drove away from you was one of the worst days of my life. Violet.”

  He stood, and I let him put his arms around me. I cried with everything I had, disappointed in myself for my crumbling resistance but unable to keep from pressing my face into his shoulder. He whispered soothing words, gripping me to him.

  “I’ll get her back, Vi, I will,” he promised.

  “I want to hate you,” I confessed tearfully, into his shirt. He nodded against my hair.

  “I deserve that.”

  “You’re all that I have,” I admitted, pulling away and dragging the backs of my arms over my eyes.

  “Now that I have you, I’ll never let you go again,” he cupped my face in his hands, catching my eyes. “Do you hear me? If you’ll let me, I am going to be your father.”

  I wrapped my fingers around his wrists, pushing him away. “I need to be alone, West. Thank you for telling me… this.”

  Shakily I climbed to my feet, going out back to find Logan.

  Chapter Four

  Logan

  Watching Violet make dinner was the most amusing disaster I’d ever seen.

  She tried standing two feet away from the counter while attempting to mix a meatloaf. The clothes she borrowed from Annie’s closet were far too snug, and I enjoyed the way her very flat stomach hinted above the waist of her pants.

  “You know, if you’re not doing anything but staring at my ass, you could come over here and help me.”

  “I’m done staring at your ass, actually, and I’ve moved on to your stomach.”

  She sent me a screw-you look, trying to brush her hair out of her eyes with her elbow.

  “Logan, seriously, I’ve never made a meatloaf in my life.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Slipping next to her at the kitchen sink, I turned the faucet on to wash my hands. “Is it supposed to look this slimy?”

  “I don’t know.” I dried my hands on the towel next to the sink. “Did you turn the oven on?”

  “Not yet, I’m not done.”

  “You have to pre-heat it,” I moved to the dial above the stovetop, turning the knob to 350 degrees.

  “Okay, now just slap it into a ball?”

  Turning back to her, I couldn’t resist standing behind her and watching from over her shoulder. I knew my breath on her neck would get the reaction I was looking for. “I would suggest more of a loaf.” Her hair smelled floral, like the perfect mix of spring and summer. I reached for the meatloaf, covering her hands with mine.

  She shivered, tilting her face to look at me. As she did, her hip grazed my pants, and I tensed. “I am not turned on by this, in case you were wondering. I don’t like ground beef under my fingernails, not in any fantasy.”

  Smirking, I pulled away and moved to stand next to her. “…Does not enjoy flirtation involving ground beef. Noted.”

  She breathed laughter, obviously amused. “Also, though you’re super hot, you’re old enough to be my father.”

  “Which is ironic, since your father isn’t old enough to be your father.”

  “Oh, my God, will you stop,” she laughed, looking back to the meatloaf with feigned annoyance.

  We both turned to the shouting outside; I moved back to the sink to wash my hands again. What in the hell is going on now?

  “Go on, I’ve got this.” She nodded toward the back of the cottage.

  Pushing through the door, I saw West catch Roam by the upper arms as she cried. His face shone with cold fury.

  “You can’t begin to know what he’s done to us, not through a handful of dreams-…,”

  “What makes you better than him, when you yourself are driven by revenge? Disgusting,” she accused.

  “Disgusting? Disgusting is finding you half-eaten by animals in France, lying next to our child- still attached-…,”

  “Stop!”

  “Or smelling your flesh burn while he branded you in that dungeon-…,”

  “Stop now!” She tried to drop to the sand, but he held her too tightly.

  I ran through the sand, moving between them and glaring at West. “Let her go. She hasn’t been through any of that. She’s known love and compassion all of her life. Don’t ever grab her like that again.”

  My fist clenched, and I longed to knock him on his ass. I knew that I could in this body; I was stronger, bigger, and watching him grab Roam pissed me off beyond reason.

  He took off, and I knelt in the sand next to her, listening to her cry. “I’m sorry…,” she broke, shaking her head.

  I saw the glass on the sand then and realized what she’d done. She was talking about Troy being tortured earlier, and I knew that she’d brought him water.

  “Don’t be sorry for being you.” I wrapped my arms around her. “Don’t lose yourself, Roam.”

  Her blonde hair framed her face, accentuating her small features. I thought of our dream of Crap Cone, and the warm, vanilla taste of her neck. When will I finally stop wanting her? The douchy part of me wanted to shit-talk West with every vocabulary word that I knew, but I resisted, struggling for maturity.

  We sat for a while, and when Eva began crying, I helped her to her feet.

  I knew she’d done some babysitting over the past few years, but watching her natural way with Eva stunned me. The breastfeeding thing seemed incredibly uncomfortable, but she patiently urged the crying baby again and again until she clamped on. I looked away quickly, realizing how weird it was for me to stare, and only checked myself moments later to realize not one sexual thought crossed my mind. Maybe I’m finally moving on. Watching her feed another man’s baby was definitely sobering.

  “Buttered bread isn’t enough, Roam. When my foster mom was breastfeeding, she had to eat nutritious foods for both herself and the baby.” Violet cleared the dishes, and Roam kept her eyes on Eva.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  After long minutes of silence, Violet twisted the knob on an old (or new, I guess) radio, fiddling with it as she had in the car until finally finding some music. “Will this bothe
r her?” She asked Roam, and I reached for a dry towel to help Violet with the dishes. My eyes wandered to the clock. She’s a wreck. He’s still not back.

  Again- what an asshole.

  “No… I’m just going to let her sleep in the cradle and take a shower. Do either of you need to go in the bathroom?”

  I watched her climb awkwardly to her feet from the couch with Eva in her arms, and I quickly moved to her side. “Don’t worry about us. Get some sleep, Cam.”

  “Thanks.”

  After she disappeared into the bedroom, Violet sighed, turning off the water at the sink. “Well, there is absolutely nothing to do. All of the laundry is done. Troy is quiet. The baby is sleeping. Now what? It’s like- eight o’clock.”

  “I miss movies.”

  “Me, too.”

  I lifted my eyes to hers, giving her a quizzical glance. “Hmn… let me guess. You’re a rom-com kind of girl.”

  “Romantic comedies? Obviously, you know nothing about me,” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Come on. What’s your absolute favorite movie of all time?”

  “All time?” She shrugged. “Well… that’s easy. And… unfortunately, I guess it’s a romantic comedy.”

  “Ha.” I held my hands out. “Well?”

  “Adventures in Babysitting.” She admitted, a guilty flush reddening her cheeks in an adorable way.

  I grinned, nodding. “Okay, okay, definitely not a bad movie. Now- tell me this. Why?”

  She sighed, looking down and focusing on her toes. “The song at the end. She had such a long, terrible day… and then he just shows up at her house… when they kiss.”

  “Some old song?” I vaguely remembered the ending of the movie, and she nodded.

  “Then He Kissed Me- by the Crystals.” She kept her eyes down. “It’s my favorite song. It’s exactly how I picture the perfect… romance. The song, not the movie,” she corrected, laughing softly. “Boy meets girl, and he walks her home, and then… they kiss, and that kiss just changes everything.”

  “Changes everything, huh?” I raised my eyebrows, fascinated by the vulnerable girl surfacing beneath the badass exterior.