I glance up. “Seriously? You’re letting it go that easily?”
He shrugs. “If you’re apologizing, it means you regret it ever happening. Besides, I fucked up, too. I shouldn’t have egged you on like I did. I should’ve kept Violet’s name out of my mouth even though you were insistent on pushing her away.”
Iwasinsistent on pushing her away.
I still am.
Even though she’s taken away my ability to keep her close.
Sebastian’s taunting from back then bothers me all the same. His words curl around me but instead of making me angry, they just make me feel pathetic. So damn pathetic that I have to rub my palm against my chest to shoo away the ache.
“You fix things with her yet?” Sebastian prods, pulling me from his taunting jabs that night.
“No.”
“You should if you know what’s good for you.”
I shake my head. “She knows everything that went down. The shit with Finn and Mom’s dealings with him and Clyde. I kept it from her, and she’s pissed over it.”
“She cares about you too much to allow herself to stay pissed at you for long.”
Thoughts of Violet push into my head. All the time I’ve spent with her. Getting to wake up with her each morning with my arm around her waist. Feeling her silky skin against mine. Tasting her. Comforting her. Consuming her.
Loving her.
How she gave me it all straight back. How she always knew when to say things and when to offer me silence. How she’d trail her fingertip up my stomach and over my shoulders when we’d lay our sweaty bodies back on her sheets after taking everything we could from one another.
She’s only ever been my truest and safest space, and my heart knows that as it twinges with sharp steadfast palpitations. And then it falls to the pit in my stomach because I know—itknows—that Sebastian is wrong.
I’ve already lost her.
THIRTY-ONE
COLSON
If it weren’tfor the kid on the treadmill across the way and Llewellyn’s niece Kelsie at the front counter, I’d have Gulliver’s to myself. The entire floor and the silence that comes with it. I’m kind of wishing it were the case because my headphones are dead, and Treadmill Kid has been playing some weird angsty boxing playlist from his phone. I think he thinks it isn’t that loud, but the volume is high enough that it’s getting under my skin.
I need fucking silence.
To go at the bag without worrying about it punching back. That, and it’s been a week since Tommy has had a fight for me. Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, and I need something to hang onto other than my own reality and the fact that I’ll be entering an entirely new year without Mom alive.
Not to mention, Finn keeps showing his face at the house.
Three nights ago, he was waiting on the porch when I came home. I ignored him. Pretended he was nothing more than a giant piece of garbage wasting space before unlocking the door and slamming it behind me.
Two nights ago, he was there again. With a cigarette pinched between his lips, he leaned against the dirty siding and noddedat me when I climbed the front steps. I stopped for half a second, watched him blow smoke from his mouth and did a repeat of the night before.
Ignore.
Unlock door.
Slam door.
Go about my business.
Easy peasy, right?
Yeah, not so much. Even though I had nothing to say to him, he has managed to get in my head. I’ve lost sleep over him trying to push himself into my life. I don’t know why he’s trying.
