26
VIOLET
“REPEAT UNTIL DEATH” - NOVO AMOR
“Elena?”I call, kicking my shoes off by the front door. “How was babysitting Lou?”
Learning from Dahlia that Elena was babysitting here tonight did something to my chest. She’s had a decent relationship with Lou since she moved home almost a year ago, but I know they don’t spend a ton of time alone together. I think Elena has had a fear of her depression being an influence on the kid.
I think she’s convinced herself that everyone in her life is better off without her. She’s done a damn good job of shutting them out, and any time I watch her interact with her family, it feels like a little broken piece of her is being reformed.
Every moment she breathes life back into her old self is something I feel an immense amount of pride over.
“Good.” Her voice floats to me from the den, sounding like soft, seductive music.
I follow the melody into the small library, finding her sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by a pile of books, flipping through them with something I can only describe as nostalgic peace on her face.
“What’re you doing?” I ask, throwing myself down beside her and setting the takeout bag at her feet. Most days, if I don’t feed her myself, she ends up going to bed on nothing more than raw carrots and sweet pickles. She’s been a vegetarian for as long as I can remember, but if the mood strikes her right, she’ll house a well-cooked and sauced piece of shellfish, and the restaurant we went to tonight has the best shrimp tacos on the planet.
She’s wearing a pair of leggings that hug her hips beautifully, and a maroon crewneck that reads,I am the devil, and don’t you forget it.
Truth.
“I gave Lou our old copy ofThe Lightning Thiefafter I found it on the bottom shelf,” she says. “I wanted to see what other books you’ve kept over the years.”
“All the ones I could.”
She looks up at me, smiling.
“You hungry?” I ask, and her eyes drift toward the bag at her feet. “If not, I can put it in the fridge for later.”
“I actually made dinner for Lou and just ate with her. Spaghetti.” She laughs. “You know, the only thing I do know how to do somewhat well.” Eyes softening, she adds, “But thank you. I appreciate you thinking of me.”
“I’m always thinking of you, Little Vice.” I drop a kiss against her knee, snatching the bag from her feet and standing. “Plus, I plan on getting your appetite up high enough tonight that you’ll need a snack once I’m through with you.”
“Don’t make promises unless you plan to deliver on them, Augustus,” she chimes, flipping back through the pages of an old vampire romance series I remember her being obsessed with in middle school.
“You know, I have copies of everything you’ve written too,” I call from the kitchen as I put her food away.
Footsteps shuffle across the floor as she starts searching for the collection of her titles. I have every book she’s published, along with any special editions she made. I have multiple copies of many of them, in fact. When I moved into this house, I kept coming across random duplicates that somehow got thrown in with all my things.
“Well, I think a couple might be missing, actually,” I say as I return to the den. “Darby scoured the collection not long ago and took copies of every one she hadn’t read ye?—”
My words stall, along with the air in my lungs, as I turn the corner, finding Elena on the floor again. Though this time she’s not nostalgically flipping through the pages of her once-favorite reads. I can’t tell what book she’s holding, but she has some paperback open on her lap. Heavy, thick tears stream from her cheeks, one getting caught on her trembling bottom lip.
“Elena,” I rasp, closing the distance between us and squatting in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
I glance down at the page she’s opened to, a red bookmark resting in the crease. Her hand trembles as she brushes her fingers over it, like it’s a memory of some sort.
“He was…” A broken sob escapes her mouth. “He was reading this before he…” She swallows, composing herself. “I signed it for him when he came back from Wyoming.” Bile rises in my throat at the look on her face, the fracture in her tone. “He never finished it.” She shakes her head as her eyes lift to mine, glistening brown and overflowing with tears. “He’ll never know how it ends.”
“The book?” I ask softly, forcing calm in my voice.
She crumbles entirely, chin dipping as tears drip off her cheeks and onto the page. “Everything.”
“Oh, baby.” I bite back my own emotion, refusing to add to her panic, though I feel all the same grief and fear that’s coursing through her too. “Can I touch you?”
She nods, and I gently take the book from her lap, setting it down beside us before leaning back against the bookcase and pulling her into my arms.
