Loving Violet

by Terri Anne Browning

  I was jealous every time I thought about her. She went to the same school as him, was in the same grade, probably had some of the same classes—something I hadn’t even asked Luca about. And every time I heard “Luca baby,” she was the one I pictured saying it.

  Aunt Layla turned wide eyes on me. “What? Violet honey, what’s wrong?” She quickly crossed to me and gently grasped my hands. “Did something happen?”

  “I just think it would be better if I went home,” I told her with a smile that physically hurt my face.

  Aunt Lana came up behind her sister, her eyes narrowed on my face. I swear, she could see so much more than anyone else could at times. Maybe even more than Aunt Emmie did.

  No, I chided myself as I avoided her gaze. No one ever saw more than Aunt Emmie. And I was beyond grateful she wasn’t there at that moment.

  The kitchen door was pushed open behind me, and a steaming Lucy stomped into the room. “Those two assholes are at the fucking Wilshire, having a party in the penthouse.”

  “They’re where?” Aunt Layla murmured, her voice soft, but from the murderous look on her face, I knew her tone was deceptive.

  “Apparently we hurt their little feelings by not so much as telling them ‘happy birthday’ today, and they decided to give themselves a party. Pretty sure Lyric was drinking, and I kept hearing some whiny little slut crying in the background for Luca to—” She broke off abruptly when I turned tear-filled eyes on her.

  “No,” I told her in a choked voice. “Finish what you were saying.”

  Regret filled Lucy’s eyes, but she did as I requested. “Begging Luca to lick her pussy,” she mumbled. “I recognized the voice. It’s hard to forget that little bitch’s nasal sound.” She hesitated, but my eyes told her to just say it. “Megan Hawthorn. That girl who keeps following him around at school and at the football games.”

  “Right,” I said with a nod. “Of course it’s her.” I took my phone from her and placed it in my back jeans pocket. “Well, I’m going home. I’ll see you three…later.”

  “Violet sweetheart, please don’t go.” Aunt Layla tried to stop me. “I’ll get this figured out. Luca will be home within the hour, and he can explain everything.”

  “No thanks,” I told her, losing what little control I was still holding on to. “I really do need to get home.”

  Before they could stop me, I walked out the back door, and no sooner had my feet touched the sand than I was running. I refused to let the tears in my eyes fall as I ran to Aunt Emmie’s house and rang the doorbell.

  The housekeeper answered moments later with a welcoming smile. “Hello, dear,” she greeted.

  I wasn’t able to return the smile or the greeting. Instead, I ran up the stairs to Jagger’s room and burst in without even thinking to knock. Thankfully he was dressed and standing in front of the mirror on the back of his closet door, styling his hair.

  Seeing me, his face darkened. “Violet, what’s wrong?” he demanded, crossing to me with quick, long strides and pulling me into his arms.

  “I want to go home,” I sobbed so hard my body began to shake. “Please take me home.”

  “Okay, sweetheart,” he said in a soothing voice. “Let me get my keys.” He kissed the top of my head and then turned to grab his keys.

  With his arm around me, we walked downstairs, but when we got to the kitchen, I saw Aunt Emmie was standing there with Uncle Nik. The two of them were obviously ready to go to the party, but when they saw me, Aunt Emmie’s big green eyes narrowed.

  “What’s going on?” Uncle Nik asked his son.

  “I don’t know,” Jagger answered. “She just showed up and begged me to take her home.”

  Aunt Emmie took my hands. “Violet honey, why are you so upset?”

  “I-I don’t want to talk about it, Aunt Emmie,” I told her through my tears. “I just… I want to go home. Please, can Jagger take me?”

  “Of course he can.” She kissed my cheek and gave me a tight hug. Feeling her arms around me only made me want to cry harder, but I knew if I let myself completely fall apart before I got home, I would never make it there. “I’ll fix whatever it is. You don’t worry, okay? I’ll make it all better.”

  “You can’t,” I whispered brokenly.

  “I can fix anything,” she said, and through blurry eyes, I saw her smile teasingly.

  “Not a broken heart,” I told her.

  “We’ll see,” she murmured softly and hugged me again. “Jags, be careful. No speeding.”

  I barely remembered the drive to Santa Monica. Jagger was sweet, though, asking if I needed anything every few minutes, offering to get me food or chocolate—or a baseball bat to beat the hell out of Luca with. I knew the last was offered in an attempt to make me laugh, but it only made another sob bubble out of me.

  My parents weren’t home when he pulled into my driveway. They were probably already at the Thorntons’ house for the party. Shaw and her family were no doubt already there too, so I didn’t have anyone to talk to but Jagger. As much as I loved him, I didn’t want to vent to him. There were some things a girl needed her bestie for.

  Or her mom.

  Jagger walked me to the front door, and I used my key to let myself in. “I can stay if you want,” he said when I turned in the open door.

  I gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, but I really just want to be alone right now.”

  “I wish you would tell me what happened.” He wiped away a few of my tears that still continued to spill down my cheeks. “I don’t like it when you cry, Vi.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just… I don’t want to talk about it right now, Jags. It hurts and I…” I swallowed and tried to give him a smile, but from the way his nostrils flared, I knew I didn’t pull it off. “Thank you for bringing me home. It really means a lot to me.” Standing on tiptoe, I kissed his cheek and quickly stepped back. “Please be careful on the drive home.”

  I watched him walk back to his vehicle and then shut the door. Slowly, because it seemed like every muscle in my body ached, I went to my room. As the door closed behind me, I finally gave in and let myself break completely.

  Chapter 8

  Luca

  I woke up with a pounding head and the taste of regret in my mouth. Groaning, I attempted to crack one eye open. I didn’t remember going to bed. I’d drunk a hell of a lot the night before. First beer, and when that didn’t turn off the hurt Violet caused, I’d grabbed the tequila off a table and started drinking straight from the bottle.

  The sun was shining, making the ache in my head throb harder when the light hit my eye, and I clenched it shut again. I pressed my fists into my eyeballs and promised myself I would never drink tequila again.

  A moan had me turning ice-cold. Holding my breath, I slowly dropped my hands and opened both eyes this time just as a soft body pressed against my side. A hand stroked over my bare chest—when the fuck had I taken off my shirt?—and I saw a blond head.

  A blond head that wasn’t Violet’s.

  Swallowing a wave of nausea as it tried to choke me, I took stock of the rest of my body. My pants were on, but unbuttoned. Thankfully, my cock was still in my boxer briefs.

  Blinking a few times to get the sleep out of my eyes, I looked down at the girl who was half on top of me. I knew that hair, that face with the makeup still perfectly in place, and realized I was beyond fucked.

  Megan.

  She was in her bra and panties, her hair a tangled mess spread over my chest.

  “No.” I groaned out a curse and pushed her off me.

  But we weren’t in a bed. I must have passed out on the couch in the sitting room, and she went crashing to the floor with a yelp. I jumped to my feet, ignoring the pain trying to slice my brain in half and hastily looked for my shirt.

  What I found was one of Megan’s friends standing at the end of the couch, snapping picture after picture. “Look at that, Luca,” she said with a sly grin. “I’ve
already got two hundred likes on some of these pictures I posted of you two lovebirds.”

  I was going to puke.

  If Violet saw those pictures, I was dead. She wouldn’t even get the chance to annihilate me with her anger because I knew her dad would end me before I was able to tell her what really happened.

  Pounding on the door made me groan in agony until I heard the voice from the hallway. “Open the fucking door, boys!” Dad roared.

  Scratch that. My dad was going to kill me before Uncle Shane got the chance.

  Lyric came out from one of the bedrooms, freshly showered and completely dressed. He ran a towel over his wet hair as he walked calmly to the door and opened it for Dad.

  “Morning,” he greeted the raging bull on the other side. “You’re a bit late to the party, but there might be some beer left in the keg.”

  Dad clenched his jaw, his eyes murky brown as he glared at my twin. But to my surprise, he didn’t say anything to Lyric as he pushed past him and stormed toward me. “Get your shit and let’s go before you completely fuck up your life.” His angry gaze turned to Megan, who was still sitting on the floor. “And you. Stay the fuck away from my kid, or I promise you will regret it.”

  Without giving her time to reply, he stomped back to the door and grabbed a fistful of Lyric’s shirt. “You will go straight home and apologize to your mom. On your fucking knees if you have to. Do you hear me?”

  “Yeah, Dad,” he said with a resigned sigh. “To be fair, though, I didn’t know about the surprise party until Violet called me and Lucy let me have it.”

  Wait.

  A surprise party?

  “Sometimes, you boys are idiots, you know that?” He released Lyric then turned his cold gaze back to me. “You’re still standing there? Get your ass in gear, boy!”

  His roar set me in action. I grabbed my shirt that was thankfully on the coffee table and pulled it on. I was still buttoning it up as I ran after him and barely made it in time to get on the elevator, glad I’d fallen asleep with my shoes on. The elevator ride down was one of the worst experiences I’d ever had, and I fought against my gag reflex the entire way.

  Once the doors opened, I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the vehicle without puking. Seeing a trash can, I made a run for it and was just in time to empty my stomach into it before it landed on the lobby floor. I puked until I was dry heaving, the whole time Dad standing there glaring down at me unsympathetically.

  “You done?” he growled when I lifted my head.

  “Yeah,” I muttered.

  “Then let’s go.” I followed him outside, where his SUV was still parked, waiting.

  “How mad is she?” I asked when he started driving toward Santa Monica.

  “Mad?” He snorted. “No, boy. She’s not mad.”

  My stomach protested. “Ah fuck,” I groaned.

  “You and your brother might be eighteen now, but you two have a hell of a lot of growing up to do,” Dad told me in a hard tone. “After what you put that girl through last night, you don’t even deserve her.”

  “I know,” I muttered painfully, closing my eyes against the glare of the sun beaming in through the tinted windows.

  “Did you honestly think she forgot your birthday?” I shrugged without opening my eyes. “You didn’t once wonder that she could have been planning something special for you and wanted it to be a surprise?”

  Again, I shrugged, feeling like complete shit. I should have, but I’d been so pissed and hurt that it hadn’t crossed my mind once. Fuck, I’d messed up. Of course Violet wouldn’t forget my birthday—or anything else about me. Just as I would never forget a single thing about her.

  I needed my ass kicked, and if she’d forgive me, I’d let her rip me apart with her bare hands.

  The sound of my phone made me groan in pain, but I pulled it out of my pants pocket, hoping it was Violet. Seeing it was Shaw, I sent it to voice mail. I couldn’t deal with her bitching at me at the moment. Maybe later, when my head wasn’t pounding and I wasn’t fighting not to vomit.

  No sooner had the ringing stopped than Dad’s phone went off. He hit connect on the touch screen. “Hello?”

  “Uncle Jesse,” Shaw’s voice filled the vehicle, and I pressed my fists to my temples, begging my brain to stay intact for a little longer. “Lyric just told me you picked up Luca. May I speak to him, please?” Her voice was so deceptively sweet, but I knew what was coming.

  “He’s right beside me, Shaw. You’re on speaker, so feel free to tell him whatever you wish.”

  “You’re sure?” She waited for conformation.

  “Be my guest.”

  “Okay, then.” She inhaled deeply, and I knew it was going to be worse than I first imagined. “You worthless piece of shit! How dare you say you love that girl and then pull something like this? She deserves so much better than a dickhead like you shredding her heart like it’s not the most valuable treasure in the world. Do you know how destroyed she is right now, motherfucker? Do you even care? You are currently trending on all social media. Pictures of you and that skank Megan are being shared left and right, and you don’t even give a shit.”

  “Dad, pull over!” I begged.

  He jerked to the side of the road, and I threw the door open, puking yet again while Shaw continued to bitch at me.

  I couldn’t stomach the thought of Violet hurting because of what I did. I’d been such an asshole, such a little pussy, that I’d broken the only thing that even mattered to me.

  Violet.

  How the hell was I going to make this better?

  I heard Dad tell Shaw goodbye, and he handed me some tissues out of the center console so I could wipe my mouth. “Every decision you make has consequences, son,” Dad told me as I leaned back in my seat and clenched my eyes closed. “Some of them aren’t easy to live with, but you always have to man up and face them. You can’t hide from your mistakes, no matter how badly you might want to.”

  Tears burning my eyes, I looked at him. “How do I fix this?”

  “I don’t know if you can, but you have to at least try.”

  Chapter 9

  Violet

  Adjusting the sunglasses on my nose, I decided to torture myself a little more and picked up my phone. Only two minutes before, I’d tossed it on the sand beside my lounge chair when yet another picture of Luca and Megan had appeared in my social media feed.

  Luca with no shirt, every hard angle of his abs and chest on full display—every angle that wasn’t covered by Megan in nothing more than a baby-blue bra and panties set as she slept on his chest. Her hair a tangled mess as if Luca spent the night with his hands in it, her makeup still perfect on her beautiful face.

  They looked good together. The clichéd high school cheerleader and football player couple.

  “Stop it,” Shaw commanded as she came out of her house and dropped down onto the lounger beside me. She jerked my phone out of my hands and turned it off. “Neither one of them is worth two seconds of your time.”

  “Where did you go?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Had to make a call,” she said with a shrug as she put her legs up on the lounger and used one of her arms to pillow her head as she looked up at the clear blue sky.

  “Please tell me you didn’t call him.” When she didn’t say anything, I groaned. “Shaw! What happened to not giving him a second of my time? And you go and cuss him out?”

  Her lips pressed together in a straight line. “If it makes you feel any better, he has one hell of a hangover this morning. He was blowing chunks while I told him what I think of him.”

  My heart clenched at the thought of Luca sick. “It doesn’t make me feel better.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, I figured it wouldn’t.”

  I reached for my phone, but she slapped at my hand. “No, ma’am. You are not going to have a self-pity party by looking at that atrocity over and over again.” She nodded her head in the direction
of my house. “Besides, here comes your dad.”

  “Shit,” I muttered. “Does he look mad?”

  She shifted her head, but I couldn’t read her eyes behind her sunglasses. “He looks like he’s going for a run,” she said after a moment.

  I glanced his way and realized she was right. He was dressed in basketball shorts and a tank top. Our German shepherd, Oscar, was by his side. As they walked toward us, Oscar ran ahead to me and licked my face.

  I hugged his neck, kissing his furry face. Oscar was the grandson of our first German shepherd, Ranger. When Ranger died a few years ago, we’d all grieved, and it took a while for any of us to decide we wanted to open our hearts to another animal. But then Oscar was born. When Mom saw him and how much he looked and acted like Ranger, she’d been helpless to say no.

  Oscar wasn’t even a year old yet, and he was still pretty hyper at times, but running with Dad every day was starting to calm him down a little more.

  “We’re going for a run,” Dad said as he reached us. “But I wanted to warn you that Jesse is on his way with the boy.”

  I flinched at the way he practically spat the word “boy.”

  “If you don’t want to see him, then maybe you and Shaw should find something to do.”

  “Like go to school?” I asked with a lifted brow. We were skipping our morning classes, and for once, Dad was completely fine with it. He called it a mental health day since I’d been so upset the night before and still in tears when I woke up that morning.

  “Nah,” he said. “Go shopping. Take a trip to the spa. Have lunch with Mom.”

  “I’m good here,” I told him as I turned my head to look out at the ocean.

  “Vi,” he started, but I held up a hand to stop him.

  I hugged Oscar again and kissed his snout. “I’m not running away from this. I did that last night. Today, I’m going to face it head on.”

  “But you’re hurting,” he grumbled.

  I swallowed the lump that constantly seemed to be trying to choke me this morning. “Hurting doesn’t make me a coward.”

  “No one would ever think that.”