Elijah POV
She wouldn’t ride back with me.
I wished she would- but with my Christmas gift from her stolen away, I had nothing special planned anyway. She took a greyhound back to Vermont in the morning, and I took my stupid car. After twenty hours of alternating music and podcasts, I was ready for some silence and rest. Instead, Jerome met me at the packhouse door.
“So? How’d it go?” he asked, anxiously.
I’d been answering texts and calls as much as I could stand to, but I hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to actually tell Jerome- and I should’ve known dodging his questions would lead to this. “Not good,” I replied as I stepped inside and knocked the snow off my boots. “She hates him. He’s doing his best- I guess. There’s a lot of bad history there.”
“But but but,” Jerome hissed,
