I sat in the back of our bus with my head in my hands with Jodie’s message open on my phone next to me. I was wonderfully alone. But considering I’d been shit for company these last few days, I wasn’t surprised.
Vi had been admitted once again with severe bronchitis and the doctors were worried. Her body was going through hell with chemo and the infection was wreaking even more havoc.
I had half a mind to put her in a damn bubble until she completed treatment.
Pressing my palms into my eye sockets, I let out a growl.
Useless.
I was completely useless.
Here I was, prancing around the country while Violet neared her death bed. I claimed I would do anything for her and the kids, but if that was true, I’d be there now—despite the guilt trip she played on me so I’d keep touring.
But I knew myself.
Losing her terrified me. So I avoided seeing her suffer.
The idea of a world without Violet was impossible to wrap my head around. We weren’t typical siblings. She was the closest thing to a mother I had.
And I’d let her down before.
Growing up, I watched Vi drop out of school to get a job. Put up with abusive men to keep food on our table and a roof over our head. She did the unthinkable to make sure I never went without and I’d wanted to take that responsibility from her. I wanted to provide for her.
But when I turned seventeen, I’d gotten in with the wrong crowd and spent two years of my life putting more gray hair on Violet’s head than she deserved. I had an idea how to make big money quick with the only way I knew how—selling drugs.
I’d been distracted and didn’t realize Violet and Grant’s dad, Thomas, were seeing each other again. Something I would have fought had I been in the right mindset.
He’d manipulated her into thinking he needed help, needed her. He abused her in small spurts at first. A push or shove, but then break down into tears after. So, when he went completely psycho on her, she hadn’t been expecting it. He’d beaten her so brutally that both she and Maylee almost died.
Thomas ran after leaving Violet on the floor in a pool of her own blood. It was a miracle she’d been able to call the police and get the help she needed.
Images from the night May was born flashed through my mind. Violet bloodied and barely breathing as paramedics loaded her and her unborn baby into an ambulance. Grant huddled in the corner, bruises scattering his tiny body as tears streamed down his face. It looked like he had been man-handled, but I knew that the deepest scars that little boy carried were in his memories.
Had I been there, I could have stopped it.
But I was too late.
Violet had welcomed Maylee into this world unconscious and with an emergency c-section that saved both of their lives.
From that day forward, I promised myself I’d protect Vi and the little family she’d created.
So, if Violet died, what would I have left?
Where would the kids go?
What would I do if I lost them all?
I would lose my reason for living.
It was more than I could bear. Pain radiated from my chest to every limb in my body.
Picking my phone up, I sought some form of comfort.
When Grant answered my FaceTime call on the third ring, I could finally take a breath.
“Hey, bud.”
“Hi, Uncle Damien.”
