“Do you have difficulty hearing?” he asks, his voice slow and deliberate.
His tone prickles my skin. “No.”
“Amnesia, then? Trouble remembering when someone tells you not to do something?”
“No.”
“You’re living in my house, and I asked you for one thing.”
The movement of his hand draws my attention, and my eyes lock on the thick bandage wrapped around his palm. “Oh my god, your hand.” Without thinking, I step forward to get a closer look, my brows pulling together in concern. “Was that from the broken wine glass? Did you get stitches?”
“It’s fine,” he says, but I barely hear him because all I can think is one thing.
Mel lied to me.
“That looks pretty serious. Mel made it seem like it was a tiny cut.”
I reach for his hand without thinking, and he jerks it away, tucking it in his pocket. “Jesus Christ, will you mind your own business? It’s fine.”
I flinch at the aggravation in his voice. “Sorry,” I squeak, my cheeks growing warm. I can’t help but recall Mel’s similar response when I asked about the cut, and I wonder what the hell I’m missing here.
For a moment, we stand there, staring at each other.
“Landon?” Parker calls, his voice timid, from the other room. I could hug him for the interruption. “You coming?”
Landon’s jaw works. “We’ll discuss this more when I’m back.”
And he leaves.
That’s it. I’mdonewith this man. D-O-N-E. Done. No way am I waiting around to be scolded like some obstinate child. I haven’t done anything wrong. Nothing but make the kid a damn sandwich, for God’s sake.
I hurry to ice the cupcakes, then decide to do what I’ve always done.
Kill him with kindness.
I get to work preparing one more sandwich, making sure to use the gluten-free bread in the pantry instead of the multi-grain, and then I set it in the middle of the island, scribbling out a note.
Had to run. Seemed like you could use this.
-Violet
On the way out the door, I call Sienna. “Hey, are you still working? I have to get out of the house for a while.”
* * *
“I hate him.”
I’ve just finished giving Sienna theReader’s Digestversion of my life story—my escape from small-town America, my reunion with my long-lost sister, and my current living situation with her asshole boyfriend. Of course, I left out the part about him being extremely wealthy and a member of the club Brit and I work at, Brit’s warning ringing in my ears.
There are always strings attached with these people. Remember that.
Sienna sits and listens with rapt attention,mmmingandahhhingin all the right places, and when I trail off, starting to fear that I’m talking too much, she forces me to continue on. The kind gesture’s not lost on me, and I wonder if this was what I was missing out on all these years. My ex-boyfriend never listened like this. No one at school did.
“He’s awful,” I say. “And I can’t figure out what I did to make him dislike me so much. I tried to be nice. I offered him a sandwich. What man doesn’t want a peace offering in the form of asandwich?I didn’tdoanything.”
Sienna glances up at me. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, left hand splayed on the coffee table as she adds a second coat of bright red polish to her nails. “Some people are just entitled assholes, Violet. Especially around here. You should see some of the jerks who come into The Bean.”
I sigh. “I know. But I just don’t getwhy. What I did. Doesn’t it take more energy to be a dick than to just be nice? And he and my sister…every time they enter the same room as each other, it drops to subzero temperatures. It doesn’t seem like they like each other at all. They don’t even sleep in the same room! I don’t get why they don’t break up.”
