The fact that she couldn't actually speak the words until days later broke my heart and solidified my thoughts on the matter.
I may question my mom's reassurances, but I definitely don't trust myself any longer.
One
VIOLET
Unpopular opinion: A sexy tattoo artist texting you at nine at night asking if you made it home safe is annoying.
Of course I respond. I'm not that cruel, even if it's a one-word answer. I haven't seen Jamie for two weeks because I was on another road trip for work. He shouldn't even be thinking about me. Booty calls don't ask these kinds of questions. As far as I'm concerned, Jamie shouldn't give a shit about me once we've both had our happy ending.
I don't give that man much to care about anyway. He doesn't know anything about me besides the best way to drive my body crazy. He lets me into his apartment, and I dive right for his mouth and belt. No talking. No feelings. No attachment.
When he messages me asking if he can come over and help merelax,I decline. He's too pushy tonight. Plus, he knows the score—I go to his house for a good time and leave beforepassing out.
"If you keep huffing like a feral cat, I'm liable to throw a damn pillow at your face."
Laughing, I throw my crappy phone down by my feet and banish Jamie from my mind. The tingles between my legs will just have to deal with waiting a few days. Plus, angry sex with Jamie is the best.
Cassidy takes a sip of her wine and narrows her green eyes at me. "Jamie bothering you again? Wait, let me rephrase that." She sits up straighter, and her messy red bun flops to the other side of her head. "Is the hot tattoo guy with gorgeous long hair who rocks a man bun and has muscles big enough to toss you around, trying to take your relationship further?"
"There is no relationship." I'm quick to shut that down. No way am I getting involved with someone. I'm a mess and, according to my therapist, I'm scared of making a mistake. Again.
My friend rolls her eyes and snuggles further beneath her blankets. "Are you willing to admit you like him at least? He's been your fuck buddy for five and a half years. You realize that says something right?"
"We've had like ten two-minute conversations, Cassidy. There's nothing for me to like beyond what we get from each other." She opens her mouth to argue with me, and not for the first time, but I stop her. "I have to unpack my gear and start organizing my images," I say, standing and intentionally leaving my phone behind.
I don't need it. There's nothing on it besides texts and phone calls. Also my location since one of mymom's husbands, Felix, demanded I have it on at all times.
Yes, I saidone of. She has four, and no I don't call them versions ofdad.They are Jared, Declan, Felix, and Roman to me. Role models, protectors...they're family.
See? I have plenty of people to ask me if I made it home safe. And all four of them did as well as Mom. They worry about me all the time. Which is understandable considering I do some risky hikes to get good images for my boss.
I'm a ghost content creator. I photograph the gorgeous landscape pictures that my boss takes credit for and posts on her socials. Keeping far away from social media is my objective, and I've done a pretty good job of it.
My personal life and my family are for my eyes only. Well, Mom gets a lot of my pictures and videos now. I recently upgraded from my grandpa’s old flip phone even though I didn't want to.
Gosh, I miss Jared's dad. I'll call Grandpa Derrick in the morning.
My heart pangs as I connect my camera to my laptop. Moving through the motions of emptying my hiking bag and starting a load of laundry, I allow myself to miss my people. Maybe I should go home for a visit soon.
Sighing, I glance at my open doorway. Cassidy knows to leave me alone when I stomp out on her like I did. It's rare, but she knows not to push me on some things, and there's no way I'm letting Jamie into my heart. Hell, he's not even allowed in my bed.
Sometimes I wish Cassidy would come give me a hug when I'm like this, but a louder part of me tells me it's better this way. I'm afraid I'll say something I'll regret if she comes to me.
Tears fill my eyes as I look around my bedroom. I only spend two or three weeks here a month, but it looks like I don't even live here. This is my home base, and all I have is a bed, dresser, and a purple quilt I can't seem to part with.
Everything else a twenty-five-year-old woman might have isn't here. My makeup is hidden in the bathroom cupboard with my toothbrush and hygiene stuff.
All of my clothes are tucked away, and my shoes are hidden in my closet. There's nothing to be seen here. No photos on the wall or a random necklace on the windowsill.
No decorations. Those are all in boxes at my mom’s house.If she saw my room now...
Shaking those thoughts away, I mechanically get ready for bed. If Cassidy hates how sad my room is, then it would for sure break Mom's heart.
My room at our old apartment in Chicago was an explosion of color and photos of me and my friends. It was a mess, andobviouslylived in. But that just reminds me of my mistakes. I can't settle. Hell, I'm not even on Cassidy's lease. I just pay rent and use this room to crash for a few weeks between trips.
Cassidy and my odd jobs are all I have here, but it's enough to keep me coming back. Detroit fuels my inspiration with its artsy depth, so that's another reason I keep coming back.
