Page 124 of Reckless King

It’s hard to get a grip on the emotions that rush through me as I look at her—resentment, hurt… sympathy. A part of me wonders how things might have turned out for her—for all of us—if Dad had been different. If he’d shown her what it was like tobe cared for rather than treated as a means to an end. After all, look at how I’ve changed, how Cole’s changed, since finding love.

For the first time, regret washes over Mom’s face. “I can’t change the past, Tate. But I want you to know that, despite how it might have appeared, I am proud of the man you’ve become. Of the men all three of you have become.”

Her words, so unexpected, cause an ache deep in my chest and leave me momentarily speechless. I came here wanting answers, perhaps even a confrontation. But instead, I’ve been given a glimpse into my mother’s struggles, her reasons, flawed as they are. While this conversation hasn’t healed old wounds, it has helped shed some light on the shadows of my past.

“And I’m,” she clears her throat, “I’m glad.”

“About?”

“I’m glad you found someone. Violet seems… kind. You and Cole. I’m glad you have people who… care about you.”

I bite back the automatic response. That she should have been one of the people who cared about us all along. What’s the point? I’m sick of looking back. All I want now is to look to the future. Tomyfuture. “I don’t have Violet.”

A shadow of a smile touches Mom’s lips. “If I know anything about you, once your mind is set on something, you’ll find a way to do it. And I think perhaps you’ve set your mind on that young woman.”

I smile back, perhaps the first genuine smile I’ve given her in years, then start for the door, determination lengthening my stride. “I think you’re right.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

VIOLET

With a sigh, I curl my feet up under me on my small but comfy couch. Work was busy once again. While that makes me incredibly happy, coming home to my quiet, empty apartment, which never used to bother me, now just twists the knife in my heart a little harder.

I’m in my pajamas and flicking through the channels, looking for something to distract me from the hollow that seems to live permanently behind my ribs now, when there’s a knock on my door.

I sit up, nerves prickling down my spine. Who’s visiting this late at night? Anna would message me if she was coming over.

After tossing the remote on the cushion, I make my way to the door. When I peer through the peephole, my heart spasms and I lose my breath. His broad chest and wide shoulders have become as familiar to me as my own reflection. The chiseled jaw I know so well is currently clenched tight, a muscle twitching in it.

Instead of opening the door, I take a step back. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear what Tate has to say. Whether he’s here to reaffirm the current non-state of our relationship or to maybe tell me he misses me as much as I miss him, I can’t allow myselfto be vulnerable again. He let me go so easily. What’s to say he wouldn’t do it again?

“I know you’re in there, Violet,” his deep voice comes through the door. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me, but you need to hear what I have to say. If you want to kick me out afterward, I’ll go. Although I can’t promise I’ll stay gone.”

With my hands pressed to my chest, I heave in one deep breath, then another, willing my pulse to steady. I realize then that I’m touching the bare skin on my left ring finger and drop my hands in a rush.

“Violet.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “Please.”

The tension in his tone forces me forward. With a shaking hand, I unlock the door and swing it open.

For a moment, we stand like that, one on each side of the threshold, staring at each other.

Tate’s throat moves in a swallow. “Can I come in?”

The nod I give him is jerky, but I step back to allow him to pass. I try not to inhale as he does, but the familiar fresh, masculine scent of him reaches me anyway. My fingers tighten around the handle, and I close the door a little harder than I intended to.

I move around him, not sure where to position myself in the small space where we won’t be too close. When I meet his gaze, his golden eyes have darkened to bronze.

“I left a message for you.” The moment I utter the words, I cringe. Why bother reminding us both that he didn’t bother to answer or return my call?

“I know.” His muscles bunch as if he wants to move, to come closer, but he keeps his feet planted where they are. “I needed to make a decision before I let myself speak to you.”

“Let yourself?”

He nods slowly. “I hurt you, Violet, and it killed me to do it. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to inadvertently do it again.”

My chest is so tight it’s hard for me to speak. “So you needed to go back to your old ways to make sure you were really okay with giving that up?”

His jaw clenches. “I never went back to my old ways. There’s no going back to that. Not now that I’ve had you.”

---