But then … I just can’t shake the sense of wrongness that Saffron gave me with that conversation. Before he finds me? Why wouldn’t I want my bio dad to find me? Is he a monster? Did he hurt Tess? Are any of the things she wrote in Fleeing Under a Summer Rain true?
“Go to sleep, Dakota, and stop thinking so hard.” Parrish’s voice surprises me. Somehow, I thought he was already asleep.
“Do you know anything about my bio dad?” I reply, and once again, there’s a significant amount of time before Parrish replies.
“About as much as I know about my bio mom. He was a bad person who hurt Tess. You’re better off without him, trust me.” There’s some more rustling, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s … like, maybe he’s jacking off?
“Are you touching yourself?” I whisper, and I hate how weird my voice sounds when I ask that.
A minute later, there he is, standing in my doorway and glaring at me, face limned by moonlight.
“Would I really do that? Without a door? If you need to relieve some stress, go do it in your bathroom.” He hesitates there for a second, like he isn’t sure why he came all the way in here to begin with. Eventually, he sits down on the edge of the bed, denting the mattress in just such a way that I’m reminded of our last make-out session, of me putting his hand on my boob, of … everything. “I like your furniture.”
Oh.
I wasn’t expecting that.
“Thanks,” I hazard, my body stiff with the knowledge that his is so damn close. I can smell him again, but I’m not about to mention that ridiculous social faux pas aloud ever again. “My grandma made some of it. The rest of the pieces came from antique shows.”
“And the Tess Vanguard books?”
Shit. I should’ve known that was coming.
“Once upon a time, she was my favorite author.” It feels like an admission of guilt, especially after what happened yesterday. Tess is stifling, and controlling, and so ice cold she could probably construct an igloo from her feelings. But I can’t deny the truth. “I guess, if I’m being honest, she still is. Even though I don’t like her.”
Parrish doesn’t respond to that, and after a few minutes, I end up falling asleep with him still sitting there.
Surprisingly, when I wake up later to pee, he’s still there, curled up on the far side of my bed without any blankets. I manage to get out, pee, and climb back in without waking him. After a second of hesitation, I cover him up, turn the opposite direction, and put our backs together.
In the morning, it’s Delphine that finds us like that, knocking on the doorjamb and waking us both up.
We don’t say anything about it. Parrish gets up and heads back into his room before Tess shows up. And then … we climb in the car and start the drive.
“It’s like an old west movie threw up on the landscape,” Kimber murmurs, scowling and scrolling on her phone as the luxury SUV rambles up a long, curved driveway. I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that, but I have to say, I’m fascinated by the change in scenery that I’ve noticed on our drive.
Outside the window, the earth is red-brown and dusty, dotted with ponderosa pines and Russian thistles, a far cry from the dewy green landscape up north. I even spotted a tumbleweed, a real-life, honest-to-god tumbleweed rolling down the sidewalk on our way through town. Bend, Oregon is famous for its outdoorsy, ‘old west’ sort of look, but unlike Kimber, I’m enjoying the view.
There isn’t much else to enjoy, to be quite frank. Tess is as cold and shut off as ever; Paul spends about four of the six hours on the drive actively talking on his phone. Kimber is so glued to her own phone screen that she legit failed to realized we’d even stopped at a gas station and started crying about how she had to pee twenty minutes later. Ben is wrapped up in some mid-grade sci-fi novel while the twins bicker over which games they want to play on their iPads.
As per usual, Parrish slumps in the corner of the back seat. If he’d had the choice, I bet he would’ve put more space between us. Thing is, this is an eight-seater SUV with eight people in it. Ben is on my left; my right thigh is pressed tight to Parrish’s. He’s barely looked at me let alone spoken to me. I can’t decide if that’s just because of the oppressive atmosphere or if he’s being weird about last night.
“Are you mad because we slept together?” I whisper, using yet another one of Paul’s phone calls as cover to speak frankly. The look Parrish throws my way is venomous. “Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal.”
