Page 202 of Sweet Venom
And yes, I know it’s too soon, especially since she’s slowly getting mentally better and embracing her younger self. It took her a while to realize that she had nothing to do with her mother’s misfortune.
But whether or not it’s too soon, Violet is the only one I’d start a family with.
And I know she wants that—a family. I can see it in her eyes when she stops to help a kid or when she affectionately smiles at them.
One day, I’ll give her as many kids as she wants. A hockey team’s worth of them if that’s what it takes.
And truly, like Violet, I didn’t have a traditional family. My mother loved me, but not enough to give up on her obsession or to get help, and my father was thoroughly absent.
My relationship with Regis is currently in that complicated phase where I want to keep my distance from him and only use him when I need help.
What?
Most of my life, he’s only ever considered me a tool, too, so I see nothing wrong with doing the same thing.
Besides, I don’t give a fuck about his sob stories and whatever happened between him and my mother. He still tortured me and gave me scars I can never erase. He’s lucky I still talk to him.
Even Violet, who sees the good in everyone, doesn’tcomment on my choices or ask me to spend more time with him. She just says to do what feels right, and that she’ll always be there for me.
Which is why I’m also here for her.
Her eyes dart around as she touches her wrist. I can’t see it well since it’s half covered, but she changed her tattoo a couple of months ago.
From ‘Endure’ to ‘I’ve Endured Enough.’
And I couldn’t be prouder of her.
My hand finds her waist, and I draw her against me. “Is it around here?”
“It should be, but…” She searches the area, the morning light casting a glow on her face, turning her eyes liquid blue.
“But?” I stroke her hip beneath her shirt, gentle and slow, and she relaxes. Violet craves all these little touches, and it also happens that I do, too.
I love how she melts in my arms and flashes me a small smile or even hums gently.
“Everything’s changed,” she whispers, still caught up in the unremarkable neighborhood we’re visiting.
Her old neighborhood.
Violet chose to come here as part of her healing journey. An exercise about facing the past and letting it go.
And to finally bury the mother she couldn’t for over a decade.
“The whole neighborhood was redone. Our house has been turned into a grocery store.” She releases a humorless laugh. “Not that it wasourhouse.”
I tighten my grip on her waist. “Does that make you feel bad?”
She shakes her head. “I’m glad it’s gone. Everything, including the closet and the room that smelled of black mold.If anything, I like that it was all demolished and changed shape. I won’t feel anything if I go into that grocery store.”
“So that’s a good thing?”
“Yeah. I can finally let go of this rotten limb that used to drag me down. My mother was dealt a bad hand, but it’s not my fault.”
“Good girl.”
She bites her lower lip. “Don’t call me that in public.”
“Why?” I lower my voice, speaking against her earlobe. “Does it get you hot and bothered?”
