“We’ll take care of him,” Roman promises. He slaps me on the back and shoves the ice pack to my chest. “Put this on your eye.”
I do as I’m told, wincing when it connects with my face.
Yeah, this is gonna feel like a bitch tomorrow.
“I’m gonna take him home,” Roman tells Ford. “Where’s Hawke?”
“By the door,” Ford answers. “I’m gonna stick around and finish the books.”
Caught between resignation and determination to not lose my shit in front of everyone, I ask, “How much did we lose?”
Ford gives me a pained look. “You don’t wanna know.” I grab his bicep, daring him to deflect again. “With fees and the spread and?—”
“Just tell me,” I demand.
The muscle in his jaw jumps. “Twenty one thousand, two hundred, sixty seven dollars, and fourteen cents.”
My head throbs even more, and my chin falls to my chest. “Fuck.”
“Come on, man,” Roman mutters. He offers my blood-stained shirt, and I take it, slipping it over my head. When my head pops out the opposite side, I glance over at the celebrating Morgan again. This time, Violet stares back. She isn’t basking in the win like the rest of them. Honestly, I don’t know what she’s thinking. What she’s feeling. She’s almost as good at keeping her emotions locked down as I am, and if I wasn’t so frustrated by it, I’d almost be impressed.
“Told you my brother would kick his ass,” the girl beside Violet squeals.
My brother?
So Violet isn’t Morgan’s little sister. She’s Morgan’s little sister’sfriend. Interesting. The realization is almost enough to dull the sting from tonight’s loss. Okay, not really, but I tuck the information aside, anyway.
Who are you, Violet Reeves?
Oblivious to my stare, the friend wraps her arms around Violet and dances them around like they just won the lottery. Then again, maybe they did.
“Did Violet bet?” I ask Ford.
He follows my line of sight, then shakes his head. “Nah, no bets.” He tsks. “It’s almost a shame. If she had, we could stop feeling guilty for her dad being a dick.” He shrugs. “Guess it’s a shit night all around. Go on, Roman. Take him home.”
9
VIOLET
My bedroom isn’t much more than a closet, but it’s done the job for my entire life and will have to continue to do it for at least another year until I can save some more money. It’s funny. When I was little, I used to tell my mom I was never leaving. I had every intention of living in this tiny house for the rest of my days. Then my sperm donor showed up on our front porch and sucked the life out of it, leaving it cold and empty. Making us tiptoe around the small space in silence when it was once filled with laughter and dancing and…fun. The reminder leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I head to the single bathroom in our mobile home to brush my teeth, steering clear of my dad sprawled out on the couch with a dozen empty beer cans littering the hand-me-down coffee table in front of him. Once I’m finished, I smooth down the simple white crop top and give myself a final once-over in the desilvering mirror before heading back into the family room. If you can call it that.
“Fuck!” he yells at the television.
I don’t bother checking to see what he’s watching as I walk past him into the closet-sized kitchen.
“Get out of the fucking way!” my dad booms.
Something wet sprays me. It’s followed by something hard hitting my back with the force of a baseball thrown at top speed. I jerk forward, clutching just above my ass on my right side at the tender spot. “What the hell?” My face scrunches in pain, and I gingerly touch the flaming skin. “Shit.”
“I said, get out of the way!” he repeats, but the can of beer is missing from his grasp. He must’ve thrown it at me.
Asshole!
When the realization hits, my anger blurs out the pain in my back. Kicking the can back at him, I march closer, then shove the coffee table toward him. “What. The. Hell?”
Waving his hand toward the televisions, he spits, “You were in the way?—”
“I don’t fucking care!” My eyes well with tears. I don’t know if it’s because of the throbbing pain in my back or if it’s because I’m going head-to-head with my dad. Again. Holy shit, my back really hurts. “You don’t throw shit at me!”
