VIOLET
Ethan led me to the car, got me seated in the passenger seat, pulled open his glove box, and grabbed a small first-aid kit. I’d laugh if only it weren’t for the thumping in my temple. Shit, I feel sick. When I saw I was bleeding, it took everything in me not to pass out.
He unzips it, pulls out a gauze, removes the outer packaging, and gently holds it up to the side of my temple. I let out a hiss through my teeth. “Hold that there,” he says, reaching over for my seatbelt and clipping it into place.
Jogging around to the driver's side, he pulls on his seatbelt, turns on the ignition, and pulls away.
“Wait, where are you going?” I ask, my voice croaky.
“I’m taking you to hospital,” he replies.
I almost drop the gauze as I grab his forearm. “No, please, not the hospital. Is Charlotte at home?”
His eyes flick to mine and then back to the road. “Yeah, she’s home, but if she thinks you need to go, you’re going.”
Letting out a breath, I give a slight nod, but every movement makes me feel like I’m going to vomit.
“Do you think Nathan’s okay?” I ask quietly.
Ethan's jaw hardens when I look at him.
“Henry won’t let him do anything else foolish. Want to tell me what happened?”
I shake my head and then wince at the pain, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.
Ethan doesn’t push, and I’m grateful. Everything just escalated so quickly. He was so angry. I almost let him go after he stormed out. I’ve never seen him like that before. But it was a low blow when he lashed out and blamed me for her being in hospital. I already felt guilty the instant I read her text message. I didn’t need him to stick in the knife.
When we pull up outside his house, Ethan jumps out and rounds the car, opening my door and leaning over to unclip my seatbelt. Any other time, I’d shoo him away, but I don’t even have the energy. He helps me out of the car, and we slowly make our way up the path.
Opening the front door, he calls out for Charlotte.
“I thought you were at the gym,” she says, coming down the stairs. Her face pales when she sees me, and she rushes over.
“What the fuck, Vi? Are you okay?”
I nod, but then shake my head. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Covering my mouth with my hand, I make a beeline for the downstairs toilet. I barely manage to open the lid before I projectile vomit into it.
Char holds my hair out of the way, rubbing my back.
“What the hell happened, Ethan?”
“I don’t know. Vi texted me and said Nathan was going after Naomi’s husband, and she was worried he would do something he’d regret.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and groan, falling onto my arse.
“Vi, I need to look at your head. Do you need to be sick again, or are you good for a minute?”
Pausing, I wait to see if the urge to vomit is still there, but it seems to have passed. “No, I think I’m good.”
“Okay, let’s get you into the kitchen.”
She tries to help me up, but Ethan gently moves her aside, pulls me to my feet, and ushers me out of the bathroom.
He helps me onto a stool, his face full of concern.
“Ethan, you’re going to be a great dad,” I say. His eyes go wide before he smiles wide, and his cheeks heat.
“That’s what I keep telling him,” Char says, pulling out a large first-aid kit from under their kitchen sink.
