Her jaw tightens. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”
“You didn’t think.” My hands are laced together again. “You didn’t think when you left, either.”
Her shoulders flinch. Her blue eyes meet mine, and there it is. She’s hurting, too. But she’s the one who caused it.
The waitress brings my coffee. I drink it.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is barely holding.
Those are the words I’ve wanted since the day she left. They’re not enough. Not even close.
“Yeah.” I set the mug down. “Me too.”
I stand. Drop a five on the table. My body takes up the whole end of the booth, and she has to tip her head back to look at me, and the angle puts her mouth right where it used to be when I’d lean down and kiss her at this same table.
Same mouth I want to taste so bad my whole body tightens.
I don’t kiss her.
“How long are you in town?”
“Four days.” She picks up the kid’s cup and wipes the tray with a napkin. Hands moving on autopilot. Keeping busy so she doesn’t have to keep looking at me.
“Crimson Warriors are pushing into our territory. Don’t stay too long.” I hold her eyes. “Watch yourself, Violet.”
I turn and walk out. The bell rings. Arizona sun hits my face like a wall, and I stand on the sidewalk for a few seconds with my eyes closed because if I look back through that window, I’ll go back inside. If I go back inside, I’ll say every single thing I’ve been keeping buried deep.
I’ll tell her I haven’t slept a full night since she left. I’ll tell her I kept the cut I wanted to give her, because throwing it away meant she was really gone. I’ll tell her I’m hard right now, standing on a fucking sidewalk, because she’s the only woman who ever made me feel this way.
My phone buzzes.
Saber:Church. 20 minutes.
I cross the street to the gas station and swing onto my bike. Engine catches. The rumble drowns out the noise in my head, and I ride toward the clubhouse at the speed limit because everything inside me is already doing a hundred and twenty.
Four days. That’s enough time to get answers. Whether I’ll like them is a different problem.
CHAPTER 2
VIOLET
Leo hasboth hands in a bowl of dry cereal when the knock comes.
Not a polite knock. Not a neighbor knock. Four hits, knuckle-hard.
Camilla looks up from the couch where she’s nursing the baby. Her eyebrows lift. “Expecting anyone?”
I’m not expecting anyone. I’m sitting on my best friend’s living room floor, surrounded by fruit snacks and toys.
And this is my life since it all fell apart last month.
Living paycheck to paycheck doesn’t leave room for any unexpected catastrophes.
A month ago, Leo had a fever that wouldn’t break. Two nights of him screaming and soaking through his pajamas, and me losing sleep, holding a cold washcloth to my poor toddler’s head. I missed two shifts. Then three. On the fourth day, Leo was better, but I still couldn’t send him to daycare. My manager called. They’d filled my position. They needed someone reliable. Like I chose this. Like I woke up and decided to let my kid get sick for fun.
With no money coming in, I couldn’t pay rent. And thankfully, Camilla took us in so that I could get back on my feet.
The knock comes again.