VIOLET LAUGHS AS I juggle her, open the door to my home, then kick it shut with my foot. The sound is like the best buzz I’ve experienced. The best way to end a crappy day. The best way to end any day is with Violet in my arms.
Once inside, I gently set her on the couch and I pause as I straighten. She’s beautiful. Fire-red hair, eyes that rival any clear blue sky, skin so soft it could be satin and she’s smiling. Violet’s smiling. She’s always been the most beautiful creature on the face of the planet, but smiling, Violet is a queen.
“How’s your knee?” I ask.
“Okay. Little sore, but it’ll be fine once I stretch it out.”
Violet shifts and lays her leg on the love seat, but her knee is still bent. The living room is only big enough for the blue love seat, a twenty-inch flat-screen on the wall and the brown leather recliner we found on clearance because of the rip on the back.
For the first ten years of my life, we rented apartments. But Mom scraped together enough money to buy this condo. Since then, Mom’s spent close to eight years making this place a home with its vibrant wall colors, mismatched furniture that looks so good together it seems like she did it on purpose and a throw rug over carpet that should have been replaced years ago.
“If you want, I can take you to my room,” I say. “You’ll be more comfortable in there.”
Violet’s smile enters the realm of mischievous. “Are you trying to get me in your bed?”
I chuckle. Not intentionally. “Is it working?”
She swings her leg to the ground and grabs on to my wrist as she stands. Violet slowly walks to my room, and even with the limp, she has a sexy strut that holds my attention. Her hips sway from side to side and my blood begins to warm. Until she says the word, touching her is off limits, but not touching doesn’t mean not fantasizing.
Without having to look, she flips on the light to my room and then slips onto my bed like it’s hers. Might as well be. She’s the only girl who has lain in it, the only girl I’ve kissed on it, the only girl I’ve held in it as I slept.
Even with our months apart, she continued to own me and I could never bring anyone else to a place that forever belonged to us.
She fluffs a pillow, takes the brace off her knee, drops it to the floor like it’s poison, then stretches her hand to my bedside table and uses the remote to turn on the TV that sits on top of my dresser. My room isn’t much. A full bed with a dark blue comforter and matching sheets. Football trophies and a couple of books on shelves. Colts and Harley posters on the light green wall.
I lean my back against the doorway and soak it all in. This. I miss this. I miss the easiness of Violet. The peacefulness of having her in my life. Yeah, she’s a ball of fire, but when we were together, I could hold that fire and not get burned.
“I’ve missed you,” I say.
Violet glances over at me and the softness in her expression nearly brings me to my knees. “Me, too.”
My cell buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket.
Oz: Club’s figuring out you and Violet split. Razor and I saw you go. They’re thirty seconds to going crazy. Give me something to calm them down.
Me: Violet’s with me. We’re safe.
Oz: Where are you?
Me: Home. But we need silence. We need time alone.
Oz: Razor and I will cover for the two of you. If they insist Violet needs additional tails, we’ll volunteer.
Me: I hear it’s going to be a cold night.
Oz: It’ll do Razor some good. He’s gotten soft falling in love.
I chuckle and Oz sends another message: No one will come near. You’ve got my word.
Me: Thanks
Oz: Anytime
“Is the cavalry on the way to swoop in and save me from the dust bunnies under your bed?” Violet asks as she flips through the stations of a TV that’s heavier and older than me.
“I told Oz we needed time.” I push off the wall, turn off the light and join her on the bed. I allow her space if she should need it, but she shifts in my direction. Her shoulder brushes against mine, and I won’t lie, that simple contact causes my restless soul to settle. “He and Razor have our backs.”
“They do,” she agrees, and it’s the first sign of her trusting anyone beyond me in the Terror. “I also miss them.”
“There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for you.” Nothing I wouldn’t do for her either.
“Want to talk about it?” she asks, switching subjects. I’m not sure if she’s talking about football or how I unleashed on Cyrus. Possibly both.
“No. I’d like to pretend the last few weeks didn’t happen.”
She snorts. “Can we pretend the last year didn’t happen?”
“Works for me.” More than she could imagine.
Violet chooses a movie we’ve seen a hundred times, but it’s one of those you don’t mind watching again. Even though it’s a favorite, a movie Razor, Oz and I will say the lines with while we’re together, I don’t watch the screen. I watch Violet.
As time continues to pass, she leans further into me. Her head on my shoulder until I move so I can wrap my arm around her. She then rests her head on my chest and places an arm over my stomach. My fingers caress the skin of her arm, and because I am pretending the past year didn’t happen, I nuzzle her hair and sometimes press my lips to her head.
We’ve melted into each other, creating a warm bubble.
My skin tickles as Violet begins to brush her fingernails gently across the bare skin of my arm. I briefly close my eyes and bite back the need to moan. The touch is so sweet it’s almost an ache. The drought of her touch has been too long and a flood of emotion breaks as her fingers trail up my arm, along my shoulder and onto my collarbone.
Violet raises her head and the smoldering look in her eyes nearly undoes me. I know what she’s searching for, what the silent plea in her expression means, but I can’t. “I can’t kiss you unless you tell me it’s what you want.”
I can’t mess us up. I can’t keep leading us down bad roads.
“I don’t know what I want,” she whispers. “I don’t want to hurt anymore, I don’t want to be broken, I don’t want to be with you, but I can’t live without you. Last thing I want to do right now is make another mistake that’s going to cause me to bleed, but the only thing I do know is that if I don’t kiss you tonight, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.”
Her spirit is hurting, weak and in need, and so is mine. I don’t know much either. I’m confused and blinded by the fog we’ve stumbled into, but Violet is real and warm and a fortress by which I fall to my knees whenever I come into contact. I need her, she needs me and tonight we just need to hold each other.
“I can’t make promises,” she says like we’re in a church.
But I do have a promise for her. “I love you. I always have, always will. I understand the promises you’re talking about and I understand why you can’t make them, but I’m going to make a promise to you. No matter which way this plays out, I promise to love you and do my best to make sure whatever path we go down together or separately will be the one that hurts you the least.”
Violet tilts her head as if my words hurt her while at the same time hugged her. She reaches up, her fingertips sliding across my face, and before she has a chance to pull away, I capture her hand and press it against my chest.
“I love you,” I repeat.
“Please kiss me.”
I release her hand, it remains on my chest, over my heart, and I tunnel my fingers into her hair. My thumb caresses the smooth skin of her cheek, and as I lean forward, adrenaline hits my bloodstream.
There’s a pull to her, there’s always been a pull. Violet’s the gravitational force that rights my world, but this time, this kiss, it’ll be imprinted in my brain, a memory that will last unt
il my last breath.
Our mouths are only centimeters apart, and I can hear and feel her slight intake of air. When she wets her lips, I draw in closer and kiss. A light brush, a slight shake as if this is the first time, as if this is the last time.
Another press and her sweet familiar scent envelops me. I lick her lips and Violet gives, becoming liquid in my arms. She opens herself to me, her fingers in my hair, her legs tangling with mine, our mouths and tongues moving in ways that only come with years of understanding what makes the other shiver, what makes the other yearn for more, what makes the other feel as if the only way to be complete is to be of one body and skin.
Fire. Waves of flames lick through my veins and my fingers lift the fabric of her shirt in an effort to help the growing heat. We shift as we continue to kiss, her hands just as greedily taking off my shirt, helping me with hers, and then we’re shedding more, touching more, remembering, retracing, rememorizing, reliving all that was and is glorious between us.
There’s a rhythm, one that had been relegated only to dreams. Holding her in my arms, feeling her caresses along my spine, her kisses along my chest, her body moving in a way that causes my mind to become fuzzy and warm, I want nothing more than to crawl inside her, to become one.
I move my hips, Violet gasps and curls further into me, but then she shakes her head, allowing her nose to rub against my cheek. “We can do things, but not that. My heart won’t recover if we do that.”
Make love. We’ve made love before, but after doing it a few times, she said she wanted to wait to do it again. That she didn’t regret it, but she didn’t know she wasn’t ready until it was done. I told her I’d wait until she was thirty. I’d wait because while waiting we found other ways to love, other ways to touch, other ways to make her cling tighter to me and whisper my name.
So we do those things. We touch in ways that make my head spin, ways that cause her to nip at my neck, pull at my hair, press her body to mine so that we’re skin against skin and bring us to a high that spirals up so fast, so quickly that when we reach the pinnacle, we both squeeze the other, then tremble in the beautiful aftermath.
There’s a heat built between us, and as we struggle for breath, the first chill of the real world bites at our skin. Goose bumps form along her arm and I reach down, then pull the thick comforter over both of us.
Violet cuddles into me and I can’t stop myself from feathering kisses along her face, in her hair, and I whisper the same words over and over again. I love you.
She holds on to me as if she’d fall off a long drop if she were to let go and I hold on to her just as tight.
“I want to stay here,” she says against my chest. “I want to stay the night here with you.”
“Then you will.”
It doesn’t take long until her body grows pliant, her breathing becomes light and she flinches slightly in her dreams. My own body is heavy from sweet exhaustion, but it’s tough to let this moment go, to not fight to stay awake so I can enjoy her next to me.
Letting her go for a moment, I reach for the remote, point it at the TV, and that’s when I spot the bag on my dresser. My heart stalls. Her birthday present. Violet’s birthday present is on my dresser and then I run a hand over my face. She’s eighteen. She turned eighteen in the basement. I remembered that night but then forgot and not one person has figured it out. All of us, including me in a way, forgot her birthday.
I look down at my sleeping beauty. See the rare peacefulness on her face, feel the way she trusts with how she’s wrapped around me. Yes, I’m going to love her and I need to love her right.
Violet
TWO MEN HOLD CHEVY, another hits him with metal fists over and over again. Blood bursts from Chevy’s nose as the blood in my veins whooshes in my ears. I scream, but no one’s listening. I yell, but my words are a silent rain. They’re going to kill him. He’s going to die. A gun in a hand, it’s pointed and then I’m running. Running toward it, running for my death and then there’s a shot... Bang!
My eyes open, I sit up in the bed and I put my hand to my chest trying to calm my heart as I gasp for breath. I’m covered in sweat and I’m shaking. A check of the new cell Mom bought me confirms it’s four in the morning. At least two more hours before we need to start getting ready for school. Beside me, Chevy’s in a deep sleep. I slowly breathe out as it hurts to look at him. He almost died in front of me, and if he had, I never would have forgiven myself.
In his sleep, he seems so young. So innocent. Dark stubble along a baby face. I should tell him what the Riot wants from me. He’s promised to love me through this. Maybe I can trust him like I did in the basement. Maybe this time he’s choosing me.
My hands continue to tremble. I’m wired and I’m parched. Careful not to wake Chevy, I roll out of bed, pull his T-shirt over my head and slip on my jeans. The door to Nina’s room is closed and a pang of guilt hits me. I didn’t think about how she’d feel about me staying the night with her son. She’s awesome letting Chevy stay with me at Cyrus’s. No doubt she’s aware it’s in the same bed, but even awesome moms have limitations and I wonder if my being so overtly in her son’s bed while she’s home has crossed the line.
I sigh as I add that to the list of things I need to find time to worry about tomorrow.
The kitchen is off the living room and the small light over the oven casts a glow over two lumps. Oz is asleep, sprawled out on the recliner, Razor on the floor. Either of them would crush the small couch if they had tried to sleep on it.
Razor’s eyes pop open as I pad into the kitchen, and from the moving of blankets, I can tell he’s following. I retrieve a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water. Razor walks in, combing his fingers through his blond hair, and I have to admit, he’s cute rumpled. I also have to admit, he’s never been my type.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Bad dream.”
“That I get.” He props himself up to sit on the counter. A few weeks ago, he lived out a different type of nightmare with the girl he loves.
“When did you guys come in?” I ask.
“Chevy texted us after you fell asleep and told us to let ourselves in. Floor’s a lot better than sitting on my bike all night.”
“I’m sorry you have to do this.”
“Don’t be. Feels good to be doing something for you two instead of sitting on my hands feeling helpless.”
“Helpless sucks,” I say.
This time Razor nods and then he gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Can I talk to you about something?”
Considering he’s been my best friend since the age of dinosaurs, I lift my fingers in a bring-it motion.
He rubs the back of his head, then crosses his arms over his chest like he feels naked. “I notice you sat with Addison at school today. Has she said anything about me? About Breanna?”
It’s awful that it happens. Terrible. It’s the worst thing a best friend can do, but the smile on my face is too large and I can’t quite swallow the entire laugh. Razor lowers his head and mutters a curse and I do my best to sober up.
“I’m sorry,” I choke through another swallowed laugh. “I couldn’t help it. It’s just that I was kidnapped and now I’m home and there’s all this crap and all everyone wants to talk about with me is the Riot and then you ask something that’s just so...”
“Pathetic,” he adds.
I lose the smile and my heart is heavy for him. “No. Your question was just so...eighteen. Sometimes I forget we’re only eighteen.”
“Seventeen for you,” he says, and I don’t disagree because there’s no point.
“To answer your question, yes, she talked about you. She thinks you’re Satan because Breanna’s no longer in town.”
He bobs his head like her assessment might be right. “You’re friends with Addison now?”
“We shared French fries and a lunch table. Considering how the rest of the school has treated me, that’s the closest I’ve got to a friend.”
“I’m your friend.” He offers a sly smile.
“God help my soul.”
He chuckles in agreement. “Think you can put in a good word for me with Addison? Breanna loves her and someday she’ll be back in town. When that happens, I want to fit as good as I can in her life. The best friend is a good place to start.”
Yeah, best friends can make or break any relationship. “I’ll do my best, but keep in mind I’m all out of miracles. I used them all up in that basement.”
“Your best is all I need.” He hops down from the counter, and before he leaves, he glances at me from over his shoulder. “When you’re ready to talk about what really happened between you and the Riot, I want you to know I’m around.”
The way his blue eyes bore into me makes me uneasy and now I’m the one wrapping my arms around myself. “Eli talked to you, right?”
He nods his head once.
“Then you know everything.”
“As I said, when you’re ready to spill on what really happened, I’m here.” And with that, he leaves me alone with my glass of water and my scattered thoughts.
CHEVY
ELI AND CYRUS showed at six with six cups of coffee, a box of donuts and the truck to take Violet home to get ready for school. After taking a shower and getting dressed, I’ve run out of reasons to hide in my room. My grandfather is waiting and he’s waiting in my mother’s home. Hell must have frozen over last night.
Cyrus is sitting at the kitchen table, his coffee in his hand as he stares at the fridge. Mom covered it in artwork from me as a kid, pictures of the two of us through the years and a list of emergency numbers in case I need help. All of them are friends of hers and none of them Reign of Terror. She tries, but I’ve never let her run the Terror from my life.
I find a clean glass in the dishwasher, pull out orange juice from the fridge, pour, return it, then lean against the counter. Cyrus watches me, and I watch him. Feels like the few seconds before someone yells charge on enemy territory.