Page 91 of Avenged

I frowned. “Who’s been teaching you?”

“Mandy and Jada.”

I shook my head, but now wasn’t the time to go into it. “No. Don’t take the car without a permit. I’ll get it after work.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the tickets remaining from Truck’s gift to me. My heart panged and twisted so hard my hand shook as I stuck them out to Violet. She searched my face for a moment and then took them.

“I’m seriously going to murder him myself. There are ways.”

I gave her a weak smile and shoved her shoulder with mine. “You’ll do nothing of the kind. You know I can stick up for myself.”

“You can, but you don’t.”

That stabbed another bloody hole into my shriveling up heart. That Violet saw me as the person who didn’t fight for herself. But I couldn’t blame her. It was the truth. I’d never fought for myself. I’d hidden in the shadows. I’d become invisible, and I’d taken her with me. It was a surprise she could shine at all when I’d hidden us so well.

I didn’t respond, and she squeezed my hand before walking away, grabbing Jada by the elbow as she went. She said back over her shoulder, “I’m giving you a time limit. If you haven’t talked it out with that Coastie in a week, I’m going to say something you may not want me to say.”

The door banged shut, and I rested my head in my arms on the counter, trying to breathe. Trying to find a spot that would ground me. Trying to swim up from the bottom on my own instead of using a body to help get me there. But that thought made me think of Truck all over again. Of his saying friends were supposed to be there that way for each other.

I wasn’t a very good friend. I wasn’t there for him. I didn’t know how to be.

? ? ?

The crowds were still thick as I locked up the bookstore for the night. The music from the downtown stage was carried on the wind along with the laughter and the whirling of the rides. The sounds seemed to mix in with the smells of barbecue, cotton candy, and churros that always filled the air this time of year, masking the scent of the sea. The fog was rolling in, and the mix of the sounds and smells and bodies made the world feel dreamlike once more.

I shouldered my bag and headed down the street toward the cottage. The place I’d felt more at peace than anywhere in years. The place I’d spent hours in a garden that was never supposed to be mine, but I’d acted like it was. I’d spent money and time and love on it. I’d spent things that I couldn’t afford to spend.

The lights were on, and the door was open, leaving the screen door as a shield between me and those inside. I could hear the TV, but I couldn’t see anyone on the couch. I stood by my car door for a long time, debating with myself. My first instinct was to slouch into the car and disappear. To hide. To be invisible. I was good at doing that. I’d practiced it for so long now that it had become a way of life I hadn’t questioned. It had saved me.

But did I want it anymore? Did I want to be hidden and invisible? Did I want Violet to see this as the way to live life?

Movement inside the house caught my attention. Truck. He had a glass in his hand as he made his way to the couch. He sat, but it wasn’t in a relaxed pose. He sat at the edge of the seat, head down, looking at the glass and the floor. He looked like I often felt. Like the weight of the world was weighing me down. God, I didn’t want that for him. I wanted him smiling and teasing and loving. Whether that was with me or someone else, did it really matter? If you loved someone, you wanted the best for them, right?

It was how I knew my father didn’t love us. He didn’t want what was best for me or Violet. He wanted what was best for him. Thinking of my father also served to remind me of that painful discussion I still hadn’t had with Violet. One I dreaded almost as much as I dreaded this.

I moved slowly toward the cottage. The squeak of the screen door had him lifting his head. Our eyes met as I stepped inside. I didn’t put down my purse. I didn’t go to him. I stood for a moment, taking in every little piece of him. The blond crew cut that was just at the point where he’d go and have it shaved off again. The amber eyes that were surrounded by dark circles from lack of sleep. From worry. The muscled shoulders that were sagging forward slightly instead of straight and proud like I normally saw him. It broke every little piece of my heart to see him that way.

I finally moved toward him. I didn’t say a word. I just stepped in between his legs and pulled him to me. He rested his head on my stomach, arms surrounding me. We just stood there, with me rubbing his shoulders and him breathing into me.

“You moved out,” he finally said, but he didn’t move. He didn’t look me in the eyes.

“Yes,” I said.

His shoulders sagged into me, and my heart twisted.

“It isn’t your fault,” I told him. “We…we didn’t stick to the contract. If we had, it would have been fine. No one would have gotten hurt. Not Dawson…or Vi… Not you or me.”

“I screwed up,” he said, and the self-blame in those three little words tore the last shred of my heart to pieces. It was nothing but a slaughtered, bloody muscle. It hurt worse than the pain in my abdomen. It was my fault—all of it, really. But if I said that, he’d just argue it, because he still wouldn’t want me to take on the burden of the truth.

“We both did,” I told him.

He pulled away from me, and it wasn’t just physically. I felt the pull on every fiber of my soul. He finally looked up into my face once more, and his was clouded with indecision that turned slowly into resolve.

“I have to find Dawson. I have to fix this.”

I nodded and stepped back toward the door. It hurt like hell that he wasn’t asking me to stay. It hurt like hell even knowing I wouldn’t have stayed even if he’d asked me to. It hurt like hell because, at the end of the day, you still want the person you love to want you next to them.

“Thank you for everything,” I said, trying hard not to cry, trying desperately to hold back the flood of emotions in those words.

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