3. Rain

“ N athaniel Sinclair.”

Elijah greets his dad as he opens the large front door. He is standing under the overhead porch lighting, his features familiar but more posh, upper-class, and less rugged than the ones I’m used to.

I wonder how similar they really are?

Standing off to the side, I’m unsure of how this reunion will go. E has never been open about his family life outside of his mom and my dad. I’ve known him to text his dad, he has never said a bad thing about him truthfully, but I have no idea if they are close or what terms they were on when E left Colorado.

His dad’s hands are in his trouser pockets, wearing a navy-blue suit, and a white shirt with dark brown dress shoes, he raises his brow at Elijah. “Something’s changed, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. New piercing?”

Elijah blows out a breath of annoyance, which I am sure is accompanied with an eye roll. I begin to feel a smirk forming on my face, I’ve never seen anyone joke with E before. I like it.

“I’m just messin’ with you, kid. It suits you. It’s… you.” His dad briefly looks my way and winks before focusing back on E.

He’s talking about the face tattoo.

“Are you going to invite me in? And who is this?” He nods his head toward me.

Elijah stands back, bringing the door fully open, and extending his arm. “Please, come in.”

As his dad walks in, E closes the door behind him.

Reaching a hand out to me, he says, “Nate, you can call me Nate.”

Meeting him in the middle, I awkwardly shake it. “Rain. Rain Sinclair.”

I don’t know why I said that.

Nate doesn’t look away, still shaking my hand while looking like he is deep in thought.

“Interesting, very interesting.”

I swallow a giant lump down my throat. What does he mean, interesting?

“Isn’t it?” E is quick to jump in.

Nate lets go of my hand and focuses back on his son. All I can focus on is this older version of my Elijah before us. Ink decorates his exposed skin, faded black and gray can be seen from his neck to his hands and fingers. The smell of vanilla and sandalwood tickles my senses.

Once I return my focus, the three of us walk toward the couches in the living room in awkward silence, or at least it is awkward for me. Our shoes against the hardwood are the only sounds filling the void.

I sit down in the lone lounge chair as E and his dad take a couch each. Both sitting on the ends closest to each other, they both extend their long legs and cross them at the ankles. The heels of their feet rest only a few inches from one another.

“It’s surreal having you back. I always knew this day would come, but now that it’s here I’m not sure I believe it yet.” Nate’s head is resting against the back of the couch as he looks up at the ceiling, rubbing his face.

Elijah doesn’t immediately respond, his eyes are still taking everything in. His mind is racing, trying to figure out how to respond and handle this situation. It’s unfamiliar to him. He is trying to sort out how to feel, if he feels.

His dad’s head turns slightly to look at him, though he doesn’t force anything. He lets his son take the time he needs.

“Are you mad about Mom? What I did, what I forced her to do?”

I’m shocked by the question.

Elijah does things because he wants to, because he needs to.

He doesn’t show remorse or ask for approval after the fact. I remain silent, observing the interaction.

Nate sits up, resting his elbows on his thighs and leaning forward. His head shakes as he focuses on a spot in front of him. “No. I would never be mad at you for being yourself and doing what you need to do.”

“Good. Because I don’t feel bad about it. I put up with her and that dumb fuck for ten years too long. She deserved everything she got. And I would do it over and over again,” Elijah says casually in response.

“Not that you need to hear this. You did the right thing.”

Nate’s confession of support shocks me.

These two have a bond I can’t yet describe, but it’s unique and supportive. Nate is someone Elijah trusts.

“You’re right, I don’t. But… Thank you. The shit the two of them did to Rain. The smile on my face as she stepped back into the fire.” E closes his eyes and inhales. “I can still smell her burning skin in that cave. The sound of her pathetic screams.” His thumbs itch the side of his fingers, which his dad picks up on.

As E opens his eyes, a devious glint appears. One I haven’t seen in months. One that I have fucking missed, to be honest. It was starting to worry me. How long could he go without hurting? What happens if he can’t keep it contained?

As E goes to reach for his bat, out of habit—he does that sometimes even if it’s not next to him—his hand falls into the air.

Nate grins, still leaning forward and now looking at me. “I got him that bat when he was five. At the time, I didn’t understand the significance behind him asking for it. It’s been attached to him since and now it’s a part of him. An extension of himself.”

“And he’s magnificent with it,” I proudly respond. My body relaxes more into the chair. Seeing how they are together, it’s comforting.

“That he is.”

E interrupts, impatient, still itching at his hand, “Are you going to continue to talk about me like I’m not here?”

Nate changes the subject, “What’s with the twitching fingers?”

You could hear a pin drop, the room goes absolutely silent. E doesn’t respond.

“How long?”

Elijah looks away from us, mumbling under his breath, “Two months.”

“I see.”

His dad’s facial expression remains neutral, it makes him incredibly hard to read. He can shut off his emotions as easily as his son.

Blowing out a deep breath, his head turns to Elijah, who is still not looking at us. “We’ve been saving them all for tomorrow. I don’t even have anyone I could give you tonight. I’m sorry, son.”

You can tell he means it. As unreadable as his face is, his voice is sympathetic to his son’s predicament.

This is a man who truly loves his son. I can feel it, I can see it, it’s so strong. It reminds me of my mom.

Turning his head back to us, his brow furrows, eyes squinting, and I can tell he is agitated. I’m sure this is a lot coming back here, plus knowing he can’t release his demons until tomorrow, I don’t blame him. “Is the shed still out back at your place?”

“It is,” his dad responds curiously while gingerly nodding his head.

“Good, I want to show her everything. I’ll bring her by tomorrow, before The Reckoning.”

I’m quick to interrupt. “What is The Reckoning?”

Nate smirks, questioning his son, “You haven’t told her why you both are here?”

E doesn’t respond, letting his dad continue, “It happens every ten years and always lands on the tenth day of the tenth month at ten p.m. on the tenth year. It is a rite of passage for some, like Elijah. This is his birthright. Others are forced to make a decision. The wrong choice could land them a grave deep in the woods.”

I sit with what he has just said. “Like an initiation?” I question as I am trying to understand.

“Sort of. I’ll let him explain it in more detail to you. Because this should really be coming from him since he brought you in.”

Looking over at E, he nods, blowing out another breath of exhaustion. “I will.”

As his dad stands, E follows, already anticipating the next move.

Nate looks at his watch. “I best go. Your masks are almost ready, I’ll leave them with Rogers. Grab them when you're done.” Then he looks toward me. “Rain, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

I smile genuinely back at him and remain sitting, allowing E and his dad to have a moment as they both walk to the door.

A few words are spoken, but I can’t quite make them out.

As the front door opens, Nate’s hand grips his son’s shoulder, squeezing it a couple times before letting go and leaving.

As E closes the door behind his dad, he turns around to look at me. “He knew I changed your name to Sinclair. Don’t let him fool you, he knows more than most. But…” He pauses, deep in thought. “You can always trust him. If anything ever happens to me, you go to him. He will help you. Do you understand me?”

Nodding my head, I take it all in.

Everything is starting to hit me at once.

Birthright, generational, saving them for tomorrow?

I have gone from one hell to another. But in this hell, it appears we may be the ones in control.