“Uh . . . sure,” I call after my dad. Harlin mouths Sorry, as if he did something wrong, and I put my hand on his shoulder as I pass him. When I get into the living room, I find my father pacing in front of the sofa.
“What am I supposed to do?” he whispers the minute I’m close.
“Excuse me?”
“He doesn’t have a place to stay, Elise. It’s dark outside and he’s hitchhiking. Even if I paid for it, I’m not sure letting him stay in a rundown motel is the best option here.”
“Dad, I have no idea what you’re getting at.”
“You’re not going to ask me if he can stay the night?” My father crosses his arms over his chest.
“I wasn’t. But now that you mention it . . .”
“You hadn’t even thought of it until I brought it up, did you?”
“Nope, but it is a fantastic idea. And very Christian of you.”
My father rubs his face before glancing around the living room, then toward the bedrooms. “I’m assuming from the porch that the two of you made up?”
“Mostly,” I say with a smile.
“Harlin can stay on the couch,” he says. “And I’d better not wake up and find him in your room, Elise. Or his motorcycle accident will look mild in comparison. I’m not running a dating service.”
“Gross.”
“Be quiet. Now find him some clean clothes, and I’ll show him where the bathroom is so he can take a shower. After that get some extra blankets out of the linen closet.” He pauses, looking me over. “I trust you,” he says.
“Thanks, Dad.” I give him a quick hug, closing my eyes as I think about how I’ve been lying to him. And I hope that someday things can go back to the way they were. Or at least, how I remember them.
CHAPTER 22
Harlin glances at the sofa and then back at me. He’s been scrubbed clean and rebandaged, his hair wet and brushed to the side, making him look incredibly sexy. He’s wearing his own T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts that Lucy found in her room. We didn’t ask who they’d once belonged to.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks. “I mean, did your dad really invite the handsome stranger who’s dating his daughter to sleep on the couch?”
“I like how you added in the ‘handsome.’”
“Thanks.”
“And yes. My dad is cool like that, plus he thinks you’re a lost soul in need of saving. He’s not really that far off there.” Harlin nods as if he agrees and I drop the blankets onto the arm of the sofa.
My father turns on the light in the hallway, keeping the living room extra bright before closing his door halfway. Lucy has gone to her room, leaving Harlin and me alone.
I take his cleaned jacket from the chair when he asks to see it. He holds it up, inspecting the rips and tears, cursing under his breath. He quickly apologizes, setting it on the back of the couch, and asks me to join him.
I do, but the minute I’m next to him, my heart speeds up. We have so much to talk about; I’m not even sure where to start. So I begin with the obvious.
“Why did you run away at Marceline’s?”
Harlin lowers his head. “Because it hurt. Hearing about Charlotte—about you—hurt me. But I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry.”
“We had a life together,” I say, as if it’s a fact of our past and not something I long for.
Harlin pauses. “Yeah.”
“Were we happy?”
He looks over at me. “When you weren’t hiding things from me? Deliriously happy.”
The old memory I had of us fighting on the phone comes back to me. I’d hurt him then, kept the Need from him. I lied to him. “So maybe we do it differently this time,” I offer. “We should tell each other everything. Always.”
Harlin checks his bandage. “Okay,” he says. After a moment he puts his good arm over the back of the sofa, turning toward me. “What else can I tell you?”
“Tell me about Monroe Swift.”
“Monroe was your Seer. More than that, really. You’d known him most of your life; he knew your family. He helped you toward the end, even if I didn’t approve of his methods.”
“Meaning?”
“Lies. Secrets.” Harlin swallows hard. “I understand more now, but at the time I was angry. Now I know that Seers aren’t allowed to talk about their Forgotten. We’re not allowed to tell anyone. It’s our pact—our way to keep the light safe from the Shadows. We lead the Forgotten to their destiny and then remember their path.” There is sorrow in Harlin’s voice. “It’s not an easy life, Elise. It’s very lonely.”
“You were there,” I say, drawing his gaze to mine. “I had a memory, and you were there with me when I went off that bridge. You told me you’d remember everything.”
“I do remember everything,” he says. “I remember every minute of our lives together. And other than Monroe, I guess I’m the only one who does.”
Sadness spreads through my chest. “I’m sorry I’m someone else.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “I love you. I’ll love you no matter who you are.” His fingers find mine, intertwining. “I just want us to be together. I want you to stop leaving.”
“Believe me. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
“I won’t let you this time,” Harlin says. “I’ll fight for you.” I can feel his resolve, his absolute belief in his promise. I look over his bandage, upset when I think about his injuries.
“How did you get in that accident?” I ask. “You strike me as an experienced rider.”
“I’m a perfect rider,” Harlin says, straightening and clenching his jaw. “Someone tampered with my bike, and to be honest, I’m seriously pissed about it.”
I widen my eyes. “Didn’t notice.”
Harlin chuckles. “God I’ve missed you,” he says. “Where have you been for the last nine months? Where were you hiding?”
“Colorado.”
“I should have driven through Colorado, then.”
“Maybe you should have.”
He rests his head against the back of the couch as he watches me. “Have you . . .” His voice is unsure, worried. “Have you dated anyone?”
I laugh, partly embarrassed. “Unless you count one misguided date with a coworker, I’ve never gone out with anyone.”