Long Way Home
Page 55

For the first ten years of my life, we rented apartments. But Mom scraped together enough money to buy this condo. Since then, Mom’s spent close to eight years making this place a home with its vibrant wall colors, mismatched furniture that looks so good together it seems like she did it on purpose and a throw rug over carpet that should have been replaced years ago.
“If you want, I can take you to my room,” I say. “You’ll be more comfortable in there.”
Violet’s smile enters the realm of mischievous. “Are you trying to get me in your bed?”
I chuckle. Not intentionally. “Is it working?”
She swings her leg to the ground and grabs on to my wrist as she stands. Violet slowly walks to my room, and even with the limp, she has a sexy strut that holds my attention. Her hips sway from side to side and my blood begins to warm. Until she says the word, touching her is off limits, but not touching doesn’t mean not fantasizing.
Without having to look, she flips on the light to my room and then slips onto my bed like it’s hers. Might as well be. She’s the only girl who has lain in it, the only girl I’ve kissed on it, the only girl I’ve held in it as I slept.
Even with our months apart, she continued to own me and I could never bring anyone else to a place that forever belonged to us.
She fluffs a pillow, takes the brace off her knee, drops it to the floor like it’s poison, then stretches her hand to my bedside table and uses the remote to turn on the TV that sits on top of my dresser. My room isn’t much. A full bed with a dark blue comforter and matching sheets. Football trophies and a couple of books on shelves. Colts and Harley posters on the light green wall.
I lean my back against the doorway and soak it all in. This. I miss this. I miss the easiness of Violet. The peacefulness of having her in my life. Yeah, she’s a ball of fire, but when we were together, I could hold that fire and not get burned.
“I’ve missed you,” I say.
Violet glances over at me and the softness in her expression nearly brings me to my knees. “Me, too.”
My cell buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket.
Oz: Club’s figuring out you and Violet split. Razor and I saw you go. They’re thirty seconds to going crazy. Give me something to calm them down.
Me: Violet’s with me. We’re safe.
Oz: Where are you?
Me: Home. But we need silence. We need time alone.
Oz: Razor and I will cover for the two of you. If they insist Violet needs additional tails, we’ll volunteer.
Me: I hear it’s going to be a cold night.
Oz: It’ll do Razor some good. He’s gotten soft falling in love.
I chuckle and Oz sends another message: No one will come near. You’ve got my word.
Me: Thanks
Oz: Anytime
“Is the cavalry on the way to swoop in and save me from the dust bunnies under your bed?” Violet asks as she flips through the stations of a TV that’s heavier and older than me.
“I told Oz we needed time.” I push off the wall, turn off the light and join her on the bed. I allow her space if she should need it, but she shifts in my direction. Her shoulder brushes against mine, and I won’t lie, that simple contact causes my restless soul to settle. “He and Razor have our backs.”
“They do,” she agrees, and it’s the first sign of her trusting anyone beyond me in the Terror. “I also miss them.”
“There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for you.” Nothing I wouldn’t do for her either.
“Want to talk about it?” she asks, switching subjects. I’m not sure if she’s talking about football or how I unleashed on Cyrus. Possibly both.
“No. I’d like to pretend the last few weeks didn’t happen.”
She snorts. “Can we pretend the last year didn’t happen?”
“Works for me.” More than she could imagine.
Violet chooses a movie we’ve seen a hundred times, but it’s one of those you don’t mind watching again. Even though it’s a favorite, a movie Razor, Oz and I will say the lines with while we’re together, I don’t watch the screen. I watch Violet.
As time continues to pass, she leans further into me. Her head on my shoulder until I move so I can wrap my arm around her. She then rests her head on my chest and places an arm over my stomach. My fingers caress the skin of her arm, and because I am pretending the past year didn’t happen, I nuzzle her hair and sometimes press my lips to her head.
We’ve melted into each other, creating a warm bubble.
My skin tickles as Violet begins to brush her fingernails gently across the bare skin of my arm. I briefly close my eyes and bite back the need to moan. The touch is so sweet it’s almost an ache. The drought of her touch has been too long and a flood of emotion breaks as her fingers trail up my arm, along my shoulder and onto my collarbone.
Violet raises her head and the smoldering look in her eyes nearly undoes me. I know what she’s searching for, what the silent plea in her expression means, but I can’t. “I can’t kiss you unless you tell me it’s what you want.”
I can’t mess us up. I can’t keep leading us down bad roads.
“I don’t know what I want,” she whispers. “I don’t want to hurt anymore, I don’t want to be broken, I don’t want to be with you, but I can’t live without you. Last thing I want to do right now is make another mistake that’s going to cause me to bleed, but the only thing I do know is that if I don’t kiss you tonight, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.”