“Why are you letting me stay?
Hetsks, glancing both ways before making a left onto West Palm Lane, and I’ve never been so relieved to see the familiar street in my life. “And here I was under the impression I was doing a nice thing.”
“Can you ever just answer a damn question? Like, ever?”
Landon pulls the car in the driveway, shifts into park, and meets my eyes. “Stay here. Don’t stay here. Go wherever the fuck you want, Violet. You just can’t live in some roach-infested crack house.”
“It wasn’tthatbad,” I mutter, but he’s already out of the car, striding into the house, leaving me wondering what in the world prompted this change of heart.
TWENTY-TWO
When I wake up on the first morning of our strange, new arrangement, there’s a knot in my chest the size of a fist. A guilty,what the fuck are you doing, Violet?kind of knot. I’m not unfamiliar with the feeling…or with the doubt creeping into my mind, prompted by my sometimes not-so-stellar decision-making skills. I tend to get ahead of myself on occasion. Agree to things I shouldn’t. I let excitement get the better of me. I give in to pressure, or I lose my nerve entirely.
Then I try to justify it.
I tossed and turned all through the night, restless from stressful, vivid dreams featuring Mel and Landon and that shitty apartment I should probably be decorating right now. Even I can admit that agreeing to stay here without Mel was an impulsive decision…but is it immoral?
Yes.
I needed a place to crash. Landon offered a solution. Sure, it’s a super unconventional situation, I’m not denying that, but it’s not wrong. I’m not doing anything wrong.
Aren’t you?
I pull out my phone and open Mel’s text thread. She hasn’t responded to my last three messages, and she never called me back. Hurt flares in my chest, a relentless, wild flame, and I do my best to tamp it down into manageable embers.
Okay, so I haven’t heard from her in a while. But she has a right to know I’m staying here, doesn’t she? I should give her a heads up, shouldn’t I?
My fingers hover over the keyboard, but my eyes keep moving back to those empty messages. She doesn’t want to hear from me, that’s abundantly clear, so do I really need to run my decisions by her? I like living in this town. I enjoy working at the club. I adore my friends. And yes, when Landon’s not being a total asshat, staying here is pretty great. It’s as simple as that. Nothing nefarious. Nothing depraved. Nothing Mel needs to know about. At least, not until she gives me the time of day.
This is how you’re going to repay the sister who practically raised you?
I snuff out the thought.
Throwing on some sweats and shoving my moral dilemmas aside for now, I head downstairs to grab some coffee before work. I overslept a bit, so there’s no time for a run, and I’m surprised to find Landon standing at the counter, gripping a steaming mug in one hand, his phone in the other.
“Coffee,” I mutter. “Thank God.”
Landon inches to the side, allowing me access to the pot.
“Taylor Swift announce her retirement or something?” asks Landon, eyebrow cocked as he regards me quizzically.
I shoot him a confused look. “What? No.” I pause. “Why?”
“Normally, you prance in here all sunshine and rainbows with the can-do, happy attitude of a magical fucking unicorn. It’s irritating.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, like you’re such a pleasure to be around in the morning. Your negativity gives me an ulcer.” I tap a random part of my stomach. “Right. Here.”
He snorts at that and takes a sip from his mug. “That’s not even where you get ulcers.”
I wince and bend over, gripping my side in a dramatic sort of way. “Ouch. It’s flaring up again. If only there were a real doctor in the house.”
His mouth flattens, eyes narrowing, and I can’t help but smirk. He holds up his mug. “If only there were a real waitress in the house to clean up these dirty dishes. Oh, wait.”
I open my mouth to respond, but instead, the world’s largest yawn breaks free. “I would come up with a clever retort, but I didn’t sleep much.”
He gives me a once-over. “Clearly.”
My eyes narrow. “Gee, thanks.”
