Vivian
In the bedroom, I sit on the bed staring down at my copy of Edith Wharton’s Ethan Frome. I’m supposed to use it in an essay–comparing it to Cather’s My Ántonia–but it’s nearly impossible to focus. All I can think about is Landon, and the last thing my dad said to me before sending me to my room.
He called him murderous, I think, staring down at the page until the text forms a jumbled, illegible mass. Does that mean he actually killed someone? Or is it just a weird thing Dad said to make sure that I stay away from Landon?
A chill runs through my body and I wrap my arms around myself, hugging myself tightly. It’s funny…I don’t remember being cold before. Maybe it was because Landon was around, and because I couldn’t stop blushing when I looked at him.
Or maybe it’s because I’m starting to realize just how wrong things are.
For a couple of days, it’s bad. Dad barely lets me out of my bedroom. He comes in a few times, grumbling about my schoolwork, and gives me plates of poorly-cooked food. I’m not allowed to leave under any circumstances, and Dad watches the phone like a hawk.
I’m not even allowed to watch TV. He says it’s because he doesn’t want me seeing anything “disturbing” on the news. I don’t exactly know what he’s talking about, but I can’t shake the feeling that it has to do with Landon.
It makes my skin crawl to think of the man I’ve fallen in love with as a murder, but I’m not sure what else to make of Dad’s comment. Part of me wants to believe that Dad was just trying to scare me. The other part of me remembers how furious he was. It’s hard for me to think that my father would tell me lies to deliberately frighten me away, but this is all such new territory for me that I have no idea.
I’ve never really rebelled against my dad the same way that a lot of kids do. Sure, he ran an MC. But at home, we never talked about that. He was just my dad, and I listened to whatever he said. He wasn’t exceedingly strict, but I never really had any interest in “bad stuff”…at least, not until I first laid eyes on Landon Lockhart.
When the door to my room opens, I glance up, expecting to see Dad with a tray of food and a glass of water. But instead, Lindsay walks in. Her blonde hair is up in a messy bun and she’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt with leggings. Even though I can tell she put literally zero effort into her appearance, she’s still beautiful.
“Oh my god, Lindsay!” I leap up from my bed and wrap my arms around my roommate like it’s been years since I saw her last. Truthfully, it feels like years have passed.
“Hey, babe!” Lindsay air-kisses my cheek, then perches on the end of the bed. She hands me a backpack. “I brought you some stuff.”
I wrinkle my nose. “More work?”
Lindsay laughs. “That, too,” she says grudgingly. “Your dad called me a little while ago…he asked if I wouldn’t mind coming to visit you and catch up.”
I lick my lips. A twinge of guilt sears my heart, and part of me wants to thank my dad for making sure I wouldn’t be too bored. But then I remember how he treated Landon, and my heart hardens once more.
“It’s been a long week,” I say dryly as I peer into the backpack. Along with two new books and some photocopied assignments, I see that Lindsay’s brought me a ton of DVDs.
“So,” Lindsay says. She raises her eyebrows. “What’s going on?” Lowering her voice, she leans closer. “And what happened to that hot guy, what was his name? Connell?”
“Landon,” I say flatly. “He’s gone, Linds.”
“What?” She blinks at me. “Why? I…I thought he really liked you, Vivian. I could really tell. I don’t think I was wrong!”
I shake my head, trying to remember the last time I talked to my roommate. Oh, yeah, a voice says from the back of my mind. It was when you planned that striptease for Landon.
I blush hotly. “We slept together,” I explained. “More than once,” I add, before Lindsay can butt in with any nosy questions. “It wasn’t a good idea, but I couldn’t exactly stop myself. I mean, you’ve seen Landon,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “You know what he looks like.”
Lindsay nods understandably. “And then what?” She narrows her eyes. “Did he just take off? What a jerk!”
I shake my head sadly. “My dad found out,” I whisper, not wanting Dad to overhear. “And he made Landon leave.”
Lindsay narrows her eyes. “There has to be something else that he’s not telling you,” she says slowly. “I mean, that doesn’t really make any sense, girl. Why the hell does he care so much?”
I shrug. “Because he says Landon isn’t good for me.”
Lindsay puffs out her lips and blows. “Well, too fucking bad,” she says. “You’re not, like, sixteen anymore. You’re an adult. You’re in college. He doesn’t get to make those decisions for you.”
I sigh. “He does right now,” I say slowly. “Because of what’s going on.”
“Because you’re in trouble?”
I nod slowly. “When it’s over, I’m sure things will be okay. At least, I hope they will.” A dark cloud of doubt fills my mind and the word ‘murderer’ flashes to the front of my brain.
“If he’s smart, he’ll come back,” Lindsay says confidently. “And I think he’s a smart guy.”
“He told me that he’d come back,” I reply. “But…”
“But what?” Lindsay narrows her eyes again. She reaches into the backpack and pulls out a granola bar, slowly peeling the foil away. “What, Vivian?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Dad told me something about Landon,” I say quietly. “And I don’t know whether or not it’s the truth, but…”
“Whoa, hold up,” Lindsay says. “You don’t think he was just trying to get to you? Like, bother you? Make you think that he’s up to no good?”
My cheeks burn bright red. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’ve been racking my brain for days, and I don’t think Dad would lie to me, but I really don’t know what else to think. It’s just…it’s too much.”
“Well, what did he say?” Lindsay takes a large bite and chews. “It can’t be that bad,” she offers, her mouth full of granola.
“He said that Landon had killed someone,” I say slowly.
“Oh my god, girl,” Lindsay replies. She drops the granola bar onto the floor. “Is he for real?”
“I don’t know!” Tangling my hands in my hair, I shake my head in exasperation. “I honestly don’t know, Linds. I want to believe that Landon’s a good guy…but…” I trail off, remembering what had happened before. “Um, Landon fought someone, a few days ago. Someone he thought was involved with the plot to hurt me.”
“And?”
“He killed him,” I say quietly. “At least, that’s what Landon told me.”
“That’s not murder,” Lindsay says. “That’s, you know, protecting you. Landon hurt someone who wanted to hurt you, Viv.”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing. “But I don’t know what Dad meant. Like, maybe he meant something…I don’t know. More sinister. Like, Landon actually did murder someone in cold blood.”
“Would your dad have let him into the MC if that were the case?”
I glance up at her and roll my eyes. “Are you kidding me?”
Lindsay blushes. “You’re right,” she says sadly. “That’s how guys in motorcycle clubs are.”
I nod, feeling numb and sick and sad. I don’t want to talk about Landon anymore, but no matter what I do, I can’t get him out of my head. It’s like he’s taken up permanent residence in my brain.
“So,” Lindsay says casually, draping herself across the bed like she owns it. “What are you gonna do?”
“What do you mean?”
“When Landon comes back.”
I sigh. “I think you mean, if Landon comes back.”
“He loves you,” Lindsay says sharply. “He’s coming back.” She looks at me intensely, and for a moment, the spark in her eyes reminds me of Robin, or even Landon himself.
“Maybe.”
“So, what are you gonna do?” Lindsay raises her eyebrows. “You gonna take him back and love him, or are you gonna…you know…break up?”
I sigh. “I don’t know,” I say softly. “I guess time will tell.”