Page 53 of Protect

“Troy, I don’t need any excuses; I just need you to be patient with her. You’ve only got four hours with her. Make it count, she has to feel comfortable,” I say as Hollie comes running back into the room.

“Of course she’s comfortable. She’s my daughter,” he whispers before moving toward the living room to help Hollie finish packing her bag.

As I kiss her goodbye after tucking her into her car seat in the back of Troy’s SUV, I make a plan for the night. I have four hours. I assume it will go by fast but in the end it only takesme thirty minutes to prep things for tomorrow and clean up the house.

I could change into my pajamas and settle in with a rom-com.

But I don’t.

Instead, I find myself pulling out my phone in search of Rowan’s text. I toss on my sandals without a second thought and walk out the front door to head to the place the logical side of my brain tells me not to go, knowing once I have an explanation, I just might never get my heart back.

I open the windows of my small ranch style house that sits dead center on Avondale Road to let the early summer breeze through the screens. My house is on a quiet suburban street in an older, historic neighborhood in Sky Ridge. These homes have been redone recently and a lot of families have moved in, mixed with older retired couples. I bought this place when I was twenty-five, and it suits me just fine. I’ve done some renovations to it over the last few years during the off seasons. Refinishing the kitchen cabinets, upgrading the counter tops, painting the entire place, and refinishing the wood floors. It’s home. It’s a place I like to be, except today it seems excessively quiet.

I turn on a vintage vinyl as the sun starts to sink a little lower behind the mountains in the distance.John Prine Livefills my house as I move to my liquor cabinet and pop the cork on a bottle of whiskey. I pour myself a shot, swallowing down two ibuprofens with it. It’s the strongest thing I’m taking now, andI’m hoping the shot of whiskey will help me numb the edge a little bit.

I check my phone for any kind of notification that Violette got my message but there is none. My message just sits delivered and practically serves to drive me crazy.

I’ve done everything I can, I’ve gone for a little walk around my neighborhood, got some mild stretching in, changed the dressings on the part of my thigh that still needs them, had the longest semi-warm shower that I could. And now I’m officially going out of my fucking head, whiskey in hand, pacing around my living room wondering if she’ll answer.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m ready to get in my truck and go for a drive, just to clear my head. But when I open the front door, I suck in a breath because standing on my porch, arm raised and ready to knock is Violette. Faded blue jeans, black T-shirt that fits her perfectly, her hair is loose and swirling around her face in the summer breeze.

“Are you going somewhere? I can come back…” she says, lowering her arm and clutching the purse over her shoulder.

I grin and lean against the doorframe, looking up to meet her gaze and be as honest with her as I can, “I think I was coming to find you, Vi.”

Her mouth pops open before she quickly closes it and the air between us thickens, both of us just stare at each other for a beat, our breaths heavy, knowing what this is. She’s here because she couldn’t stop thinking about me either. Images of taking her in my arms and kissing her run through my mind as the silence hangs between us, but of course, because it’s Violette and I don’t know what to expect with her ever, an almost annoyed look takes over her face, breaking my passionate daydreams.

“I’m just here to get some things straight with you,” she says, inviting herself right in bringing the sugary scent of her hair with her. She takes in the space around her as she enters my livingroom. Everything in my home is simple and rustic. The walls are a deep gray, the furniture is a worn in natural leather, and the coffee tables are custom pieces I made myself with walnut tops. I follow her in and close the door, turning down my vinyl so we can talk.

“I didn’t come here because I can’t get you out of my head if that’s what you think,” she says, turning to face me.

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you came,” I tell her as I gesture to the sofa. She sets her purse down on the coffee table, but she doesn’t take a seat. Instead, she puts her hands on her hips, looking sort of emotional and so goddamn stunning.

“I just came here to find outwhyyou ended things and then we’re going to put it behind us once and for all, because that’s what I need, and I may not have been very good at voicing what I needed when I was younger, but I am now.”

I just stand transfixed with her, because seeing her confidence, and the woman she’s become is so fucking sexy and she doesn’t even know it.

I make my way past her to the bar hutch she is standing in front of. I can almost feel her eyes on me as I pour myself another shot of whiskey, then one for her. She takes it with a shaky hand and knocks the whole shot back with one swallow.

I follow suit before setting the glass down on my coffee table. She sets hers on the hutch beside the still open bottle and begins to pace my living room.

“You know, I’m pretty sure you left me with some kind of relationship handicap,” she says in a firm voice, almost like she’s trying to convince herself that she’s ready to tell me her deepest secrets. “Which seems crazy for the small amount of time we were…whatever we were, but I cared about you for so long before that. I built you up. I just never thoughtyouwould use me or hurt me.” She stops and turns to face me. “I’ve never really given anyone my whole heart since, I’m sure of that now,even with my husband I kept walls up. I was blindsided by you and subconsciously, I just never wanted to feel let down like that again,” she says, her pretty hazel eyes focusing on mine as she stalks toward me.

I let her. I want her close, I want her frustration and emotion. The only way she’ll forgive me is if she tells me how she feels.

“You were the first man to break my heart, a woman never forgets that.”

“I always planned to tell you how I felt, but you ran,” I toss back. If she wants to talk truth, she’s going to have to face some of her own.

“I didn’t run,” her tone isn’t convincing. Sheknowsshe ran.

I move closer to her because now she’s firing me up.

“You did run. You just believed right away that I didn’t care about you… that I used you. You went to school and you never really came back. And then Jacob died and none of it made any fucking sense anymore. You got married, Violette! What should I have done? Should I have come to Seattle and told you that you’re the only woman I’ve ever really had a connection with? That I compare every fucking woman I’ve met since toyou?”

Her chest is heaving “No! I just lived for a long time after wonderingwhyI wasn’t who you wanted.”

I tower over her, and unable to help myself I reach forward and grip her hips, tugging her to me, knowing I’m crossing a line but there’s nothing that could stop me now. I’m too far gone for her, and whether or not she’s ready to hear that her brother wasn’t really who she thought he was, it has to happen. I tip my forehead to hers and breathe her in, bracing myself to tell her everything.

---