My heart squeezes when he pulls away and nuzzles his nose against mine. He presses one more kiss to my lips then rests back, his eyes glazed over with an emotion I know all too well but haven’t seen in forever—affection. “I fucking love your lips.”
“These old things?” I tease, pointing at them.
“There’s nothing old about them,” he quips, staring at them. “They’re the perfect combination of pink, wet, and plump. Enough to heal. See.” He lifts his slinged arm and gives it a tiny jostle like it doesn’t trigger excruciating pain in his collarbone.
“Colson!” I chide. “Don’t do that.”
“Ah, yeah,” he winces, gently pulling his arm back close to his chest. “They’re more of a five-to-seven day treatment plan than an instantaneous cure.”
I shake my head at him, smiling. “So,” I mull, running my fingers over the softness of his hospital gown. “Are you going to tell me what happened earlier?”
He stares at me. “I don’t want to,” he admits. My heart falls like a house of cards and a frown pulls at my lips. “But I will because I can’t relive you walking away from me with that look of disappointment you had in your eyes earlier.” Hope blossoms in my chest, becausefinally, we’re making progress. “I’ve seenit too much and this look you’re sporting now? Way fucking better.”
FIFTY-NINE
COLSON
She’s back.
Violet is back in my arms. Well, not literally but she’s within reach, sitting in the chair next to my hospital bed where she was last night and is again this morning. Her notebook is out on her lap, and she’s scribbling something from the textbook that’s propped up on my good leg. I can’t help but stare at her every minute I can.
So much has happened, and once again, I can’t believe I thought it’d be better for me to push her away than bring her in close and tuck her under my side. Last night when I told her how I felt, I half expected her to give me the middle finger and leave after what I put her through.
Some might say I’m downright undeserving of her, and normally I’d agree, but I can’t live in that mindset when it nearly took her from me for good.
Ineedher, and I’ll do every damn thing I can to hold onto her every single day of my life. I hope I proved that to her last night when I told her about my nurse coming in yesterday with anxiety meds to calm my ass down. Between that and a nap, it was enough to short-circuit the panic that loomed low in my gut.
All because of Tommy and Clyde.
Those fucking Lincolns. I’m convinced they’ll always be at my neck, trying to take something from me. I’m hoping that fades with time. Violet is convinced that Finn means well. I don’t know how she can believe that after telling her what he did to me. He hasn’t been a topic of conversation since yesterday, and I’d like to keep it that way, but my luck gets cut short when he waltzes into the room.
With a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder, he pulls me away from gazing at my girl. “Morning, stud,” he jests, though I don’t want to hear it. He’s back again after I told him to stay away. The voice of that Russian materializes as he stands at the foot of my bed, reminding me of those three men barging into my room yesterday.
With it comes the startling truth of Tommy putting a hit out on me. All because of my biological father’s keen interest in running his mouth in efforts to come out on top.
I could sit here and beat myself up over knowing better than to trust a man like him, but the truth is, I was weak. I was in a bad place, and I wanted to hold onto Mom’s memory by having something of hers.
I’ve come to realize that I don’t need it to keep her close. Not when she’s all I’ve ever known. She’ll live on in my memories. Only the good ones, I’ve decided. All the others I’ve doused in gasoline and set fire to while I’ve laid in this bed. I only want to know her as the version that came to me in my dream. The version of her from the picture Aunt Bess gave me.
“Again?” I grit out. “Did they fail to check your ears as a kid?”
Finn’s gaze cuts to the girl next to me. “Violet,” he says, a too cheeky smile on his lips in greeting.
She lowers her pencil and gives him a smile I want for myself. “Hi, Finn.”
“See, now, why can’t you smile at me like that when I enter the room?”
Ah, so he’s in that kind of mood today. He was barking up an entirely different tree yesterday. I’m not sure which annoys me more. Him, today or yesterday.
I decide I dislike both and cut to the chase. “Do I need to plaster a picture of you in the wing so the nurses know not to let you enter?”
“Can try,” he comments, pulling the bag off his shoulder and unzipping it. “But you might want me to stick around.” He tilts the bag in my direction. I have to squint to see it’s filled with cash.
My gaze jerks back to his face. “What the hell is that for?”
A wary sickness clusters in my stomach, and I think,not again.I will not get swept into another deal with Finn Lincoln. I’d rather take my chances with Tommy, which says a fuckton.
“Oh, I don’t know, how about the beefy motherfuckers who had guns pointed at us yesterday. Remember those?” He zips the pocket closed and hoists it onto his shoulder.
