Page 86 of Whirlwind

“You can do anything you want to do.”

Could I? I wasn’t so sure anymore.

I cleared my throat. “Violet called me. Said you two were at Dead Ringers.”

“She’s been a mess lately, so I dragged her over there with me.”

“A mess? Over shit with that boyfriend?”

“No. It’s her parents. They split up. Her mom found out that her dad slept with another woman. The whole town is flipping out about it. Violet moved the two of them out of the house the next second. Shit’s been crazy for her.”

“Oh no. She didn’t say a word.”

“That’s Violet. Keeps it all in tight. She’s more concerned about everybody else than herself. Her mom, especially.”

“Of course.” My insides curled. On our call I’d only accused her, moaned about my problems.

“Her dad’s a piece of work,” Wes scoffed. “Thinks he owns the town. Of course, I’m biased because he hates the One-Eyed Jacks, but hey, nothing has been the same for that family since her brother died.”

“She had a brother?”

“Yeah. He was a piece of work too. She didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“When we were in high school, their house caught on fire and the brother didn’t make it out. It was a huge thing in Meager, awful. It changed them. And I think Violet’s got survivor guilt going on. Every family has a deep dark tragedy, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“After, Violet just wanted to make everything better for everybody else. And that’s Violet. I think she got stuck in that loop. I’ve tried getting her to talk about it, but it’s always been forbidden territory. I was there that night, too. I helped her get her sister out.”

“Shit.” My back slumped against the wall where I sat on the floor.

From that very first time Violet and I had talked in the back of Pete’s years ago, to that night at the Tingle, something “complicated” was holding her back from doing what she wanted the way she wanted. I’d been pleased and proud that I’d played a small part in sparking her to make a move on her own behalf.

But those complicated ties were more intricate and thorny than I’d assumed. Wrapped up in guilt and suffering and grief.

That night at Pete’s, had I been a taste of freedom for her? Her lick of that wind she so furiously wanted to be?

“And FYI”—Wes’s voice broke through my thoughts—“her and that guy are not together.”

“She told you that?”

“I don’t want to get in the middle of the two of you and whatever is going on or not going on, but she’s not into him. At all. I know her. Ladd works with her and her father, so things are tricky there. And yes, she should have been up front about it with you, but frankly, if the two of you were just hooking up again, what the hell difference did it make?”

My hand dug into my hair. “You’re right. Nashville was supposed to be just another hook up.”

“Supposedto be?” Wes’s pointed question hung in the air. I let it. I had no answer. It was supposed to be, but it hadn’t been only a getaway fling.

It had been so much more.

A so much more I could barely define right now, but I could feel its weight in my chest, the heat of its brightness over my skin. I was in its grip, captivated.

“I like her, Wes. I like her a lot.”

“Good to hear.”

“Let me ask you something—Violet told me about this house in Meager that used to belong to her mom’s family? Whisperwind?”

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