Piper swoons. Out of view of Violet, she shoots me a thumbs up. "That's the first smart thing he's done since he lost you."
Violet smiles. "He has his moments."
Violet presses her palm into mine as she knocks and unlocks the door to her parents' house. Her hand is clammy and she's trembling. I can't remember the last time I saw her this nervous.
I squeeze her hand. It calms her enough she stops shaking, but her expression stays fraught.
She squeezes back as she steps inside the door. "Hey, it's me."
I follow her into the living room and shut the door behind me. Her parents are sitting at the dining table with a pot of tea between them and tablets in hand.
Both of them look at Violet with confusion. Her mom, Mary, gives me the same concerned once over she always does. I'm not sure if it's the tattoos or the whole musician thing, but Mary has never been my biggest fan.
Violet's dad, Dan, gives me a friendly nod. "Is that you, Ethan?"
"Yeah, nice to see you again Mr. and Mrs. Valentine." I shoot Mary my sweetest smile. "Your hair looks great."
She smiles as she smooths her auburn hair. "Violet, sweetie, what are you doing here? And why is your ex… uh, what's Ethan doing here?"
Violet chews on her lower lip. "I've been with Ethan the last few days. Not just Ethan. I’ve been with Mal too. He's Ethan's older brother. Do you remembers him?" After her parents nod, Violet continues. "Well, he offered me the job I was talking about. I may have exaggerated a few things, but he's paying really well."
"Is he?" I ask.
She nods. "Yeah. It's very generous. A few months' rent at least." She shifts her weight between her legs. "Um, Ethan and I, we uh… well it was his idea, and I think it's a good one. You know how Asher was always a little morbid, especially after he'd watch those violent war movies about men dying for just causes. Once he said that if he died, he'd want his ashes scattered in the Pacific Ocean, so I was thinking it's about time to do that. You know, off the pier maybe. I think he'd like that."
I squeeze Violet's hand.
Her nails dig into the back of my hand as she squeezes back. "But only if it's okay with you."
Mary looks us over slowly. "How about some tea first?"
"That sounds great, thank you." I pull a seat out for Violet.
"Thank you." She sits then crosses and uncrosses her legs a dozen times.
Mary goes into the kitchen to make another pot of tea. Dan asks Violet about the job Mal offered her. She's careful to stick to the facts, just the facts.
When Mary returns with the tea, Violet nearly jumps to get it. She buries her face behind her mug.
"You could have done this earlier, sweetie," Mary says. "If you'd wanted."
"Yeah. Uh, I just, I wasn't thinking about it." Violet chews on her lower lip. "Does that mean you're okay with it?"
Mary and Dan exchange the kind of look that only couples who have been married for thirty years can exchange. The two of them communicate everything with their eyes and no one else is privy to it.
Mary looks back to us. "Yes, Violet, I think it's a nice idea. We have our stones."
Huh?
"They had stones made from the ashes," Violet says. "It's a thing."
Mary places her hand over the small gem pendant hanging around her neck. "It wasn't cheap, but it… it's nice to know I always have him close." She turns to me. "You know, Asher told me that he wanted to play keyboard in a band. At first, I discouraged him. He was already stressed all the time from his piano performances but that was a mistake. It would have been good for him. I thought I was helping but… thank you for giving him that chance."
I shove my hand in my pocket. "He was great. Didn't fit our sound but it would have been fun."
She smiles. "Yes, but if he wanted to do it, he wouldn't have listened to me."
That is true. Asher wasn't as strong as Violet was and he certainly didn't have her propensity for telling people to fuck off, but he was just as stubborn as she was.
Mary nods to Violet. "Let me help you with the urn, sweetie." Her expression screams and we'll also talk about your deception.
Violet swallows hard. "Okay. Did you, um, did you want to come? Because that would be fine. No, it would be great. But we can also do it alone."
"No, I don't think I have the stomach for that." She leads Violet into the kitchen.
Then it's just me and Dan.
He looks at me the way Mal looks at everybody. I get it—he wants to protect his daughter.
I'd look at me the same way if I were him.
"We haven't had many chances to talk," he says.
I nod. Violet fights with her parents—who doesn't?—but she cares about them and she respects their feelings.
She doesn't always take their advice, but she does listen to it.
"Violet never talked about what happened between the two of you," he says. "I know Mary used to give you a hard time. It wasn't personal, son. She was worried about how much time Violet spent with you and your band. Violet had always kept to work and books until she met you. She dated other guys—she thought she kept that a secret but kids are never as good at keeping secrets as they think they are."
"She was a supportive girlfriend." I run my hand through my hair. "I care about her a lot. I want the best for her." Not that I can defend myself with my past actions. I forced her to choose between me and school. I was hurt, yeah, but that doesn't make it right.
I was an asshole.
I deserved her leaving.
Not going to make that mistake again.
Dan continues. "I know. I can tell she means a lot to you. And I can tell you're a good man, even with the tattoos."
I have to laugh.
"But I've known a lot of men your age with ambition and they don't always realize what they're asking of the people they love. We both know Violet won't listen to my feelings about your relationship with her. But I want you to promise me you'll take care of her."
"I will."
Violet and Mary are back before we have time to discuss matters further. Violet is holding a blue Trader Joe's tote bag. She still looks like she's about to faint.
She nods goodbye to her parents and whispers in my ear, "I think I'm finally ready to do this."
Violet's free hand stays glued to mine. She's wearing her nervous expression all over her face, but she still manages to walk with a steady gait.
We stop at Pacific Coast Highway to wait for the light. Violet squeezes my hand. She looks out at the horizon then her eyes meet mine.
The light changes. I lead the way across the still empty highway, over the concrete, onto the pier. It gets windier and colder the closer we get towards the edge. For once, Violet has her coat. She breaks free of my hand to pull it tighter.
I slide my hand around her waist and pull her closer. She's still shaking. She's still walking with a steady, strong gait.
Her footsteps slow as we pass the chain diner at the end of the pier. There are two fishermen on the left, so I lead us to the right. We're fighting the wind, but we'll make it work.
She kneels to set the tote bag on the deck. Her eyes meet mine. "Do you want to say a few words?"
"You should."
"I will. But maybe you should go first. If you have anything to say."
Asher was my friend too. It hurt me too. Not the way it hurt her, not even close, but it did sting.
"Okay." I take the urn from the tote bag and hold it to my chest. It feels like the right thing to do here. "Asher, I'll never forget the first time I saw you on the keys in our practice room. You fucking killed it. And I'll never forget the look of horror on your face when I asked if Violet was single." I take a deep breath. "I don't blame you for thinking I was no good for your sister. Even though you two had your issues, I know you always wanted to protect her. I feel the same way."
Waves lap against the pier. The tide is steady. The ocean seems to go forever.
This is where Asher would want to be.
I squeeze Violet's hand then I press on. "Wherever you are, I hope you have some way to look after Vi. But if you don't, then I hope to pick up the mantle. You were an amazing pianist, but that's not what I'll remember about you. It's the dry sense of humor, the stubborn unwillingness to give up or back down, the way you challenged me to a fight when you found out I slept with Violet, then the way we laughed over how we'd be willing to risk breaking our hands over her honor. I wish I could have helped you, so you'd still be here."
A weight lifts off my shoulders as I hand the urn to Violet. I can't imagine how heavy it feels for her.
Her lashes are heavy with tears. Happy or sad, I'm not sure. She's smiling but she's choking back a sob too.
I wipe her tears with my thumbs.
"Thank you." She holds the urn to her chest. Her eyes find mine. "That was beautiful. Did he really try to fight you?"
I nod.
"What did you do?"
"Asher was scrappy but he was tiny. I could have broken him in half. Told him I wasn't willing to risk being put out of commission."
"Were you?"
"For you, yeah."
She smiles. Her gaze goes to the ocean. She takes a deep breath. Another. Another dozen.
Her expression softens as she speaks. "You know, Mom and Dad didn't want me speaking at the funeral. They said I was so distraught I shouldn't have to worry about it. At the time, I thought they were worried I'd burst out the fucks, but now I realize they were right. I would have lost it." She takes a slow, steady breath. "But I'm still going to let the fucks fly."
I can't help but laugh.
"I've never been good with words. Or music. Or anything but numbers. I always admired your talent, Asher. I have to admit I was jealous. But it wasn't just your talent."
She looks to me with unsteady eyes.
I run my fingers through her hair. "More fucks might help."
She laughs. "Yeah they might." Her gaze goes back to the ocean. "I was so fucking jealous of you, Asher. I was jealous of your perfect French accent. I was jealous that you had such strong convictions about movies and books. I gave you a lot of shit about being pretentious or boring or only liking stuff for old white guys, but I really admired that you stuck to your guns about Moby-Dick. I admired that you dressed up as gunshot Abraham Lincoln for Halloween that one year, and I was really, really jealous when you got sent home with a suspension."
"Did he really?" I ask.
She nods. "Yeah, it was gruesome and disgusting. Mom and Dad were horrified but they just smiled and went oh honey, you're so creative. Our poor parents were stuck with two weird kids, but they always treated us like we were normal and they always loved each other like Morticia and Gomez Addams. I think The Addams Family was the only TV show both of us liked." She looks down at the urn. "Though I know you liked My Chemical Romance, even though you wouldn't admit it."
I laugh. "Yeah?"
"And Evanescence." She laughs. "You know, I never told anyone that until now. So I guess I owe you one for spilling your secret." Violet hugs the urn to her chest. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "I wish I had been less jealous of you, Asher. I wish we had been closer. Looking back, I can see the cost of it all. You killed yourself trying to keep Mom and Dad happy. You killed yourself trying to be the best pianist in California. And then you killed yourself because you couldn't keep it up anymore. You were a great pianist but you were more than that. You were funny, and smart, and a little pretentious, and sometimes an asshole. And you were a supportive brother. I know you would have done anything for me. And I do wish you'd have told me you were hurting, because I would have done anything for you too."
Violet lifts the lid off the urn and places it on the pier. She looks at me as if to say you ready?
I nod.
Her fingers dig into the slick silver surface. "For a while, I hated you for leaving me with the aftermath of this, but I know you did it because you didn't see another way to stop hurting. Wherever you are, I hope you've found that peace. I hope you don't hurt anymore." She tilts the urn and watches as the wind blows the ashes into the ocean. "I love you. I always will."
Violet stares out at the deep blue ocean for a long, long time. Slowly, her eyes go to the horizon, then to the sand, and then she turns and they're on me.
She leans in to whisper. "Thank you for being here. For thinking of this. For everything."
I want to thank her for a million things—for letting me in, for caring about where I hurt, for looking at me like a guy and not an idea, for being the person who turns the universe into a place that isn't ugly.
But my lips don't want to talk. My lips want on her lips.
I kiss her until I'm out of breath.
Chapter Thirty
Violet
We walk the three blocks to Ethan's place hand in hand. The sounds of the surf get quieter with each of our footsteps, but the silence is comfortable.
Ethan's company is all I need.
He smiles as he leads me inside. "Piper's car isn't in the driveway."
"Oh." I squeal as he scoops me into his arms and spins me. "Ethan!"
"I still owe you one." He carries me up the stairs and into his room—he has to kick the door open. "When you were here two years ago, I should have said fuck, Violet, that's amazing. And I should have thrown you on the bed and made you come until you passed out."
God, it's hot in here. I slide my arms around his shoulders and squeeze tight. "In that case you owe me three or four."
"That's what I was thinking." He tosses me onto the bed, on my back. He drags his fingers up my inner thigh until he's tracing the seam of my jeans.
I crane my neck to catch the time on the alarm clock. I have an appointment later this afternoon, but I have more than enough time for this.
"Something you want to say, honey?" Ethan asks.
I have a timer set for an hour before my appointment. There's no risk I'll be late.
I relax into the bed. My hand goes to Ethan's hair. "You still have a mirror on your ceiling."
"Yeah."
"You use it with other girls?"
"No." He unzips my jeans and peels them off. Slowly, he drags his fingertips up my bare legs. "You're the only person I've ever brought home."
"But you—"
"You're the only person I've ever cared about, Vi." He drags his lips up my calf, over the inside of my knee, up my inner thigh. "What was the deal? You come on my hands then on my face?"
"Uh-huh."
"I'm going change the order around." He pushes my panties aside. "If that's alright with you."
"Ethan…"
His breath is warm on my skin. His lips are soft and wet. He does owe me this, but I'm not concerned about an orgasm count— there's no way I'll ever catch up to him on that.
It's the celebration I want.
The happiness.
His happiness has always been my happiness. I want the same from him.
I want-
My thoughts drift away as he flicks his tongue against me. Right now, I want this.
God, I want this.
Ethan's fingers dig into my inner thighs as he licks me. I melt into the bed. I melt into his touch.
There isn't a solid part of me left.
My pleasure builds quickly. I run my fingers through Ethan's hair. I press my thighs into his cheeks. I groan his name.
He's giving me all this pleasure and I'm giving him all of me. This is how it should be. Not just Ethan between my legs—though I certainly can't complain about that—but the two of us without defenses.
Without pretenses.
Without fucking clothes, even.
I pull my top over my head and do away with my bra. My hands go back to Ethan's hair. My hips buck as his tongue gets more aggressive.
Almost.
Almost.
There.
With the next flick of his tongue, all the tension in my core unfurls in a hell of an orgasm.
"Fuck, Ethan." I tu
g at his hair.
I look up at Ethan's mirror and watch his movements. He's still got his head between my legs. He's still licking and sucking on me.
God, he's good at this.
I watch him until I can't take it anymore. I have to close my eyes as I go over the edge again. My orgasm is intense enough to hurt but it's in a fucking amazing way.
"Ethan." I tug at his t-shirt. "You're still dressed."
He pulls his t-shirt over his head as he climbs on top of me. I drag my hand down his torso, taking my time to explore all the nooks and crannies of his body.
I wanted this with him that day twenty-two months ago. But I'm not sure I was ready for it. I wasn't ready to let go of my grief. I wasn't ready to meet Ethan halfway.
Now, I am.
Now, we're both grown up enough to do this right.
Ethan unzips his jeans and kicks them off. He looks down at me and runs his fingers through my hair. His blue eyes are brimming with affection.
He does away with his boxers.
I wrestle him for control, flipping him over onto his back. My hands go to his shoulders. I use the leverage to bring my body onto his.
"Watch yourself," I say. "And me."
I watch our bodies join.
God, he feels so good inside me.
Like that's where both of us belong.
My thoughts drift away until all I feel is the pleasure building inside me and all the affection in the world pouring from me to him, from him to me.
When we come together, it's much more than sex.
It's fucking everything.
We lay together on Ethan's bed for a long time. I can feel his heart beating against my chest. I can feel his breath on my neck.
Right now, there are no walls between us. I really do feel like I have the key to his heart.
He smiles as I look up at him.
He brushes my hair from my eyes. "I love your haircut." He runs his fingers over the edges of my blunt cut. "It suits you."
"You just like that it doesn't cover my neck."
He smiles. "Can't complain about that."
I press my forehead to his chest. "I guess I should tell you what we're doing after this."
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