by Lisa Cardiff
“Oh my God,” Violet said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes wide and unblinking. “I’m so sorry, Alec. I didn’t do that on purpose. I promise.”
“Vi, don’t be sorry,” Annette said, reprimanding her, between bursts of laughter that kept rolling one after another. “I haven’t laughed this hard in so long.”
Finally dropping his hands from Violet’s shoulders, Alec looked down at his shirt, and not wanting to be drenched in vomit for one more minute, he tugged it over his head and tossed it next to Violet’s front steps. “Where are your keys?”
“Huh?” Violet said, swaying back and forth, staring blankly.
“The keys to your house.”
“Oh.” She started fumbling with the pockets of her skirt, but never quite making it inside either one and he realized she was still wearing her clothes from last night. She hadn’t even bothered to change before she ran away this morning. He didn’t like that he made her so uncomfortable she didn’t feel like she could take refuge in her own home. “I thought I put them in my pocket, but I don’t know.” Her hands dropped limply to her sides.
“Let me look.” His hand dipped into one pocket and then the other. “Here they are.” He held them up for her to see.
“Oh thank you,” she mumbled, holding her hand out, her nails brushing against the skin of his bare stomach, making him hyperaware of her and partially aroused, which was fucked up on so many levels. She stilled and tipped her head up to him. “Oops,” she giggled as her fingers caressed the line of his tattoo along his side.
Alec looked at Annette, who stared at him opened-mouthed. He gave her his best ‘don’t fuck with me’ smile. “Open the door and I’ll carry her inside.”
“Fine.” She opened her hand and he tossed her the keys.
Alec wrapped one arm around Violet’s shoulder and the other beneath her knees, lifting her and carrying her into the house.
“You smell so good,” she said, closing her eyes and burying her nose into his neck.
He chuckled. “Even with your vomit on me?”
Her eyes popped open and she moaned. “Did that really happen? Please tell me it didn’t.”
“Shh…don’t worry about it,” he answered, pushing the hair from her face and kissing the top of her head. “I was in the line of fire. I should have moved.”
She groaned. “How would you know that I was going to do that? I’d like to think I have better control when I drink, but I don’t do this much or ever.”
“Unfortunately, I have plenty of experience with people who’ve had too much to drink.”
“Mostly women, I bet.” She closed her eyes again, shaking her head. “Ignore I said that. I don’t care. I don’t want to know.”
He smiled, brushing his lips across her feather soft hair. “Not always. You’d be surprised what I’ve seen.”
“Crazy clients,” she said, referring to the job he told her he had.
“Something like that.” Lying to her on top of everything else didn’t sit well with him, but confessing the depth of his deception while she was intoxicated and sick didn’t seem very productive. It could wait until she felt better. He had so much to explain to her and only two weeks remained until he left. Hopefully he’d never have to return. Even as the thought flashed through his mind, the idea of never seeing Violet again tugged uncomfortably at his heart.
Following Annette down the short hallway, he stepped into a room that had to be Violet’s. Soft blue walls, lavender bedding covered with a sea of gray, cream, and blue pillows greeted him. It suited her.
“Dizzy. So dizzy,” she murmured into his chest while her hands clawed at the bare skin of his chest.
“Are you going to be sick again?”
“Oh my God,” she groaned, her voice both strained and alarmed. “I think so.”
“Hold on, Little Violet,” he whispered into her ear, skittering his fingertips along the clammy skin of her forehead.
“Where’s the bathroom?” he barked at Annette.
“Use this,” she answered, shoving a clear trashcan lined with plastic in his face.
With the trashcan in one hand, he sat down on the edge of the bed, cradling Violet in his lap.
Her stomach rumbled and once again she threw up the contents of her stomach. “So embarrassing.”
“How much did you let her drink?” he yelled at Annette. Didn’t she care what happened to her friend?
“Enough to forget what an asshole you are,” she shot back as she handed Violet a hand towel.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That she may have been with me today, but you’re the reason she felt the urge to self-medicate.”
Well, fuck. He didn’t have an answer for that. Violet was strong and caring. He hated that he held any responsibility for her current state. “Can you bring her a glass of water and some Ibuprofen?”
Her eyes narrowed, debating whether to leave them alone and he hated it. She sighed. “Fine, but don’t hurt her.”
“What the hell? I’m not going to hurt her.”
Annette’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Well then, don’t say anything stupid.” Without waiting for a response, she stormed out of the room, her sandals clicking against the hardwood floor with every step.
“Better?” he asked Violet, rubbing her back in long, even strokes.
Moving her head up and down ever so slightly, she said, “I just want to go to sleep before that happens again.”
Once he kicked off his soiled boots, he gently placed her on her side. When she shivered, he pulled the gray throw blanket from the bottom of the bed over her legs and placed the trashcan on the floor parallel with her head. “Close your eyes. Annette is going to leave water and Ibuprofen on your nightstand.” Propping the pillow up behind him, he leaned back against her headboard, crossing his legs at his ankles.
“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine now. There can’t be much left in my stomach.”
“I’ll leave when I’m sure you’re okay.”
She shook her head. “Annette’s here. She’ll stay with me.”
He realized that, but he wanted to take care of her and apologize for his asshole behavior this morning. “She’s probably tired and I live right downstairs, it’s easy for me to help you,” he said as his fingers ghosted along the side of her of her face, almost reverently. He felt like an ass wanting to touch her so much, but he couldn’t stop himself. Even sick and throwing up, she looked like an angel, his personal angel. And as the thought floated through his mind, his lips turned up at the corners.
Annette paused at the doorway, eyeing his boots on the floor. “Do you think you’re staying or something?”
“Just for a couple hours until I know she’s fine.”
“Ah, let me think about that.” She tapped her chin as she walked into the room. “No fucking way.” She shook her head dramatically as she placed the glass and the medicine on the nightstand. When he didn’t make any move to leave, she leaned toward him, her eyes blazing with heat, probably trying to intimidate him, but she had him confused with another person if she thought that shit would work on him. He made up his mind. He was staying. Nothing she could do or say would change his mind.
“Out,” she demanded, flinging her hand toward the door.
“No.” When he saw the look on her face, he had to hold back his grin. She looked as though she were ready to spit at him as her head spun around on her body. He hadn’t seen such unbridled rage directed at him since he left his childhood home at the age of eighteen.
Her foot tapped rhythmically on the floors, echoing through the dim room. “Can I talk to you in the hall for a minute?”
“If you think it’s necessary.”
“I do.” She stomped toward the door, turning around at the entrance with her hands firmly planted on her hips. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night.”
Before he got up to follow her, he ran his hand along the side of Violet’s head, tracing her featur
es with his fingertips.
He stepped into the hall, closing Violet’s door behind him. She was almost asleep. From the little he observed of Annette, she could go nuclear on him in the next few minutes and he wanted Violet to sleep. “What do you want?”
“Funny, that was exactly what I planned to ask you, so why don’t you go first and explain why you’re suddenly interested in helping Violet.”
He lifted one shoulder nonchalantly and then dropped it. “I’m her neighbor. I’m available. I want to help.”
Annette snorted. “Look, I’ve known Violet my entire life and she doesn’t need your shit. She’s a nice girl and judging from your looks…”
Alec’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He might not look like the most wholesome guy, but he was far from a thug.
Annette held up her hand before he could respond. “And from the shit that went down this morning, you’re not the type of guy she needs in her life. She’s tough, but at the same time she’s really soft in here.” Annette tapped her hand against her chest. “She thinks everyone deserves a second, third, and sometimes fourth chance. She’s the best advocate for the downtrodden and that’s great, but it also means that she doesn’t adequately guard her heart against fucked up people with twisted motives.”
Alec ran his hand through his hair. “So is that your way of saying I’m a fuck up with twisted motives?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. In truth, I don’t know anything about you except that you upset Violet, and as her best friend I don’t like it. I hate looking at her and seeing these big-assed sad eyes that make her look broken.”
He didn’t like it, either. She trusted him and helped him and he repaid her by being the world’s biggest jerk. She was like a balm, healing all the fragmented pieces of his life and nothing turned his gut more than the thought of hurting her. That was exactly why he sent her out of his life this morning, but apparently he had fucked that up, too. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “Look, Annette, I know I’m not good enough for Violet. That’s why I said that shit this morning, but I certainly don’t want to hurt her. Let me make it up to her tonight. I’ll take care of her and I’ll apologize. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”
Annette’s eyes swept over every detail of his body as though she was the judge, the jury, and the executioner, and at that moment she probably was. Freedom meant making this mess right with Violet and he had the feeling Annette held the key to making that happen. “You look familiar,” she finally said after few heavy moments of silent deliberation.
Alec sucked his lip ring into his mouth, keeping his face completely neutral while adjusting his arm to cover the Chasing Ruin symbol tattooed on his ribs. Except for a super fan, not many people would recognize it. Marcus had come up with the symbol when they started playing in dive bars in Southern California. It was a “R” inside of a “C” with flames erupting out of the “C.” Excited to finally be making some money from their love of music, he and Marcus tattooed the symbol on their ribs after a show one night. While Marcus had stopped after that tattoo, it was the first of many for Alec and now he had too many, but he couldn’t stop himself when the urge to add to his body art hit him. The pain and repetitive sound of the needle quieted his mind.
“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” he answered. The last thing he needed right now was a meddling, very pissed off Annette to figure out that not only had he mistreated her friend, he also hadn’t been entirely honest about his identity. His volunteer application skirted the truth, as did many of his conversations with Violet and at some point in time, he needed to confess.
“Hm,” Annette said, her eyes squinting like she could suck the truth from him by mental osmosis. She couldn’t break him. With a life and identity rooted in half-truths and outright lies, he had learned to lie, dip, weave and evade with the best of them.
“What’s the verdict?” he said when he couldn’t stand one more minute of her inspection.
Her eyes snapped back to his face. “You can stay. Violet can’t be alone and I have to wake up early, so I need some sleep tonight, which won’t happen if I stay here, but you have to promise me that I can trust her with you. I think I can, and I’m normally a fairly decent judge of character, but I need your word that you’ll be a gentleman.”
His lips twitched suddenly, finding this conversation comical. He never considered himself a gentleman. He had too many tattoos and too many questionable nights under his belt for that label. “I’ll do my best interpretation of one.”
“Against my better judgment, I believe you.”
“So we’re okay?” he said, folding his arms across his bare chest. He should probably retrieve a new shirt at some point and take a shower to wash off the lingering smell of vomit.
“That remains to be seen, but you seem somewhat sincere, so I’ll give you another chance.” She started walking backwards out of the hallway. “I’ll leave my number on the kitchen counter if you need any help.”
“Thanks.” Before she could say anything else, he turned and headed back into Violet’s room. He didn’t want Annette to change her mind.
It was going to be a long night watching Violet sleep. All day long, he couldn’t get the vivid images of Violet out of his mind. Her beautifully sculpted legs wrapped around him, with her pale hair showering the pillowcase behind her head as he moved inside of her. All of it made him clamor for another taste. What the hell was he thinking?
Chapter Sixteen
Groaning, Violet woke the next morning only to be greeted by bright light streaming into her bedroom, searing her eyeballs, and the smell of bacon and eggs curling into her nose. The need to empty her stomach and her bladder hit so fast, she nearly fell on the floor when she rolled out of bed.
Her bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor in her hallway, and echoed off the plaster walls. When she reached the end of the hall, she threw open the door, flinging herself forward, stubbing her toe on the base of the toilet. For a second, she stood utterly frozen, wondering whether she should vomit or pee first until she decided the bathroom was small enough that she could throw up in the sink while emptying her bladder if necessary.
Fifteen minutes and a quick shower later, she headed toward the smells emanating from the kitchen.
“Hungry?” Alec asked as she walked into the kitchen, his gruff voice scraping across her already vibrating nerves and grating headache.
She slid into a chair at the kitchen table. For a few drawn out moments, she stared at the red numbers on the digital clock until the edges of her vision blurred. Unable to focus for a second longer, she dropped her head against the cool wood surface. “No.” Her voice sounded like sandpaper so she cleared her throat. “I’m not putting anything in my mouth for at least a week.”
Ignoring her, he placed two heaping plates of food on the table before relaxing into the chair next her. “Try a couple bites. You never know. It might help.”
Lifting her head that felt as though it weighed a hundred pounds, she studied the yellow eggs, crisp bacon, whole-wheat toast, and grapes. On any other day, she’d be grateful for the well-rounded breakfast. Today…not so much. “Or it could make me sick again and my stomach muscles already ache something fierce.” She shook her head and even that slight movement resurrected her dizziness and made her stomach tilt obnoxiously. “No, I think I’ll just take a little nap right here. Going back to my room is too much work.”
He picked up her fork and lifted a bite of scrambled eggs to her mouth. “Just one bite of everything and then I’ll stop bothering you. It’ll settle the acid in your stomach.”
Raising one eyebrow, she examined the way the eggs jiggled in slow motion on the tip of the fork. When she opened her mouth to refuse, he took the opportunity to stuff a forkful of eggs into her mouth. As it rolled around her mouth, she was tempted to spit it out, but she resisted the urge when she saw the stern look on Alec’s face. Chewing slowly, she let the smooth texture coat her sour tongue before she swallowed
. Not so bad.
“What do you think?” he asked, waving the fork in her direction.
“That I might have a couple more bites.” She grabbed the fork out of his hand.
He smirked. “I thought so.”
“Do you want coffee?”
“Please,” she said, drawing out the word. With her brain still fogged from overindulgence, she needed to be more alert before she started questioning Alec about his presence in her kitchen and taking care of her last night, but first she wanted to eat and enjoy having someone take care of her.
Alec poured two cups of coffee and sat down again. She could feel the heat of his eyes burning into her with every bite of food that ventured into her mouth. After a few minutes, she set down her fork. “Thanks for helping last night, but you can go home now. I’ll be fine.”
Shadows clouded his midnight blue eyes. “I was worried about you. I didn’t like seeing you come home in that condition.”
Violet attempted to roll her eyes, but the motion strained her dehydrated eyeballs. Okay. She wasn’t drinking like that anytime in the near future. “I’m alive. Nothing to worry about. Go on.” She waved her hand. “You don’t need to babysit me. I’ll probably sleep most of the day.”
“Can we talk for a couple minutes first?”
She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she lifted her coffee mug to her lips and swallowed a large mouthful that scorched the roof of her mouth, leaving it rough and numb to the touch. That wasn’t the best delay tactic, especially when the look on Alec’s face told her he wouldn’t leave her alone until he said what he wanted. “Go ahead. What do you want to talk about?” she asked, twirling the mug in circles on the table.
Bracing his elbows on the table, he exhaled loudly. “Can we talk about what happened between us the other night?”
“I don’t think there’s anything else to discuss,” she whispered, feeling heat flood the pale skin of her face. “You told me you didn’t want anything else. I can accept that. Last night, the drinking, wasn’t just about you,” she lied unconvincingly. “It was everything…law school, my parents, the Foundation.”