I about busted down their door, tripping through the hallway to get to Violet. Fear and so much determination propelled me forward, but as soon as I kneeled on her bed, a sense of calm washed over me.
It was as if my instincts told me I needed to be gentle and soothing. She was in distress, and no matter how much I wanted to snatch her up to beg her to open her beautiful eyes, I couldn't. She needed my patience, and, fucking hell, I've proven I have enough to last at least five fucking years.
So I did what I felt was best. Then I fingered her because fuck if I knew anything about getting someone back to sleep after such a horrible nightmare.
All I knew while she was in my arms was that I could help her body succumb to the exhaustion herbrain was fighting. A new, warm, comforting side of me came rushing to the surface when I touched her. Our intimacy shifted in that moment, and all I wanted to do was praise her for letting me into her bedroom, into her heart, and into her mind.
Sitting here now, counting her dark eyelashes and smirking when she huffs a snore, I think about ways I can get her to let me into her soul.
Breakfast.Worth a shot.
Alone in the women's kitchen, I can't help but worry I'll mess something up. My presence here is meant to be helpful and supportive, not hinder anyone's schedule.
I may be a confident man, but everyone has a weakness and a worry. Mine is Violet and ensuring I give her no reason to push me away.
I thought for half a second this morning that I should leave and not overstay my welcome but decided that was dumb as shit. Violet has been allowed enough space for a few different things. Now that I'm in her home, there's no way in hell I'll leave voluntarily.
Cassidy took one look at me flipping pancakes on her stove and walked right out the door. She wished me luck at least, so I wasn't offended by her disappearance. I'm glad, actually. Violet and I took a new step last night, and today is the day I'll solidify my place in her life.
I hear Violet's bedroom door open before I see her, and I shit you not, I stop breathing for a second. Dressed in my T-shirt, and her purple panties with her hair in half a rat’s nest, I completely fall head over heels for Violet.
The times she's slept over at my place, she's always been up before me, and once I see her, she's already lookingproper, you could say. I love this version the most. Especially the rasp of her voice when she speaks due to snoring all night long.
"Cassidy? Are you making breakfast?" she murmurs, rubbing both of her eyes. When they blink open, they're red and watery. I immediately drop my spatula.
I'm around the counter and lifting her onto it within moments. Ignoring her squeak because of the cold marble on her bare thighs, I grab her cheeks in both of my hands. "Did you have another nightmare? Why have you been crying?"
"I...What? I thought you left," she says, a little stunned.
Worry churns my gut, which is super fucking unfortunate because the bacon burning on the other side of the kitchen smells amazing. "That's why you've been crying? Because you thought I’d left?"
Violet twists her lips, and I notice a drool stain running from the corner of her mouth down to her jaw.So fucking beautiful. "Well, you didn't leave, so it doesn't matter."
"Hmm." I cock my head and take a risk to kiss her nose. Every kiss I give her outside of sex feels like arisk, but she's accepted every single one. "It definitely matters, my love. I told you I wasn't leaving."
"I know." Violet blushes but doesn't break eye contact. "You will be if you ruin my bacon."
A bark of laughter escapes me as I rush away from her to be her knight in shining armor. "Anything for you," I say, still laughing. Christ, I love her sass.
"Jamie..." Small arms circle my stomach when Violet hugs me as I flip the bacon. "Happy birthday."
My throat closes over just enough for me to know how much she means to me. With one hand on hers, and the other taking care of her bacon, I repeat her words back. "Happy birthday, my sweet love."
Thirty-Three
VIOLET
There's something refreshing about the silence between me and Jamie. It's peaceful and offers an air of comfortability I never thought would be possible with us.
Jamie is an artist as well, but his focus isn't to stand in awe about the way the sunshine sparkles in the snow; his attention is in the details. So much so that he hasn't been afraid to kneel in a snowbank and study the lines of a dead leaf.
I'm not focused on the sun anymore either. No, I've found myself stealing photos of Jamie. Normally, portraits aren't my forte, but his passion and curiosity about how he can use this experience to enhance tattoos is stunning.
"This is so cool. Violet, come look at this, please."
With his hands on his knees, Jamie's face is inches away from a particularly rough-looking tree. He's studying the bark and tracing his fingers through thegrooves. It's impossible to keep my camera from rising to my eye and my finger from clicking the button.
Immediately his head whips around to see what I'm doing. Caught red-handed, I just go with it and continue snapping my shots. His beaming smile jolts me forward and makes me put my camera down.
