She’s beautiful. She’s a liar. And she stole years of my son’s life from me.
“Got them.” She drops the carton on the belt. “They were all the way in the back corner. Who designed this store?”
I don’t answer. The cashier rings us up.
I pay. Violet bags.
“Duke?” She’s looking at my face. “What’s wrong?”
Violet has always read me better than anyone, and right now I’m giving her nothing.
“Let’s go.”
The walk to the truck is thirty feet. The longest thirty feet of my life.
I buckle Leo into his car seat. He grabs my finger when I pull the strap across his chest, and I let him hold it. His left hand. The birthmark. My birthmark on my son’s hand.
I pull my finger free. Close the door. Get behind the wheel.
Violet is in the passenger seat, organizing the grocery bags at her feet. “Leo needs new shoes. He’s growing out of everything. The pediatrician says toddlers need good arch support. The shoes I found were thirty dollars, but I think?—”
“I’ll get them.”
“No.” She pauses. “I wasn’t asking you for money. I was just telling you about shoes.”
Did she fucking leave because she didn’t think I could provide for my son? I would have given him everything.
I would have given her everything.
I put the truck in reverse and pull out of the lot. “I’m buying the shoes, Violet.”
The drive to my house is twelve minutes. I make it in nine. The road is straight, the desert is flat, and I keep both hands on the wheel. If I let go, they’ll shake.
Leo is singing in the rear seat. Not language. Sounds. A melody he’s made up, a few notes repeated, and his feet kick my seat in rhythm.
My son. My kid. He’s had so many milestones I’ve missed, because I just fucking met him.
Violet is quiet. One hand resting on the door, bottom lip caught between her teeth. She’s trying to figure out what happened in the store. She can’t. She wasn’t there when it happened.
Good.
She wants to keep a secret? Fine. Now I’ve got one too.
My phone buzzes in the cupholder. I glance at the screen.
Saber:Church. Emergency. Clubhouse. Now.
I pull it up and read the second message.
Saber:Full lockdown. Diner got hit. Prospect is in the infirmary. Everyone comes in. No exceptions. Bring Violet and the kid.
I put the phone down and face the road.
“Change of plans,” I tell Violet. “We’re going home to grab some things. Then we’re going to the clubhouse.”
“Why?”
I accelerate. “Saber called a lockdown.”