Maybe she’d just say she ran into a door; that seemed infinitely more plausible than the truth.
She came downstairs to an empty house. Her mom had been working more now that summer was approaching—her busy season, when the seasonable weather brought shoppers out to the local farmers’ markets in droves. She was already out in the converted shed she used as an art studio. Violet worried about trying to eat anything, her stomach still churning in the same way it had after the first time she’d taken Dr. Lee’s sleeping pills. Eventually she settled on some dry toast, choking it down with hot tea.
She took a sip and thought about Casey Atkins. Ever since her mom had told her about the girl, Violet couldn’t stop thinking about her. She felt terrible, both helpless and useless. What good was her ability if she couldn’t help anyone with it?
Her phone alerted her to a text, and as she checked it she realized she’d missed several messages. She felt her stomach knotting tighter and tighter as she scrolled through them. She didn’t know if it was good or bad that she was getting used to the pangs she felt whenever she avoided Chelsea and her other friends, but reading the texts inquiring as to why she wasn’t at school sent a fresh surge of regret coursing through her.
But there was also one from Rafe:
I hope you’re okay.
It was just that single message, but it reminded Violet that she wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt. With everything that had happened yesterday, she’d nearly forgotten about Rafe.
She punched out a quick response:
Don’t worry about me. I’ll come see you as soon as I can.
Closing her phone, she poured a glass of milk and tried to swallow the guilt that burned more than the stomach acids reaching up her throat. And then she grabbed her mom’s car keys and rushed out the front door.
Violet felt strange sitting in Dr. Lee’s office without an appointment, like she was breaking some sort of grown-up protocol. Fortunately for her, no one really considered her a grown-up yet.
Nervously tapping her foot, she listened to the music coming through the speakers overhead. She recognized it as the same looped CD that always played in Dr. Lee’s waiting room. Dull was the operative word for his musical selection, Violet thought, but she assumed that was sort of the point. It was meant to be background noise . . . probably meant to be calming and unremarkable.
When Dr. Lee opened the door to his office, Violet jumped to her feet. “Um, hi, Dr. Lee.”
His bushy brows gathered at the bridge of his nose. “Violet? What are you doing here? We didn’t have an appointment, did we?”
“No. I, uh . . . I was hoping I could, um, talk to you for a few minutes.”
He examined her face, the way everyone did now, and she tried not to bristle beneath the scrutiny. It was natural, she supposed, that kind of curiosity. “I’m sure I could spare some time for you.” He stepped aside, his professional voice ushering her inside. But once the door closed behind them, that tone changed. Instead of taking his usual seat, he moved to stand in front of her, frowning sympathetically. “I heard about what happened, but this is . . .” He took a breath, screwing on his shrink face again. “Well, it’s hard to look at.”
“It’s better than it looks.” The words had become like a running mantra for Violet, her way of telling everyone she was okay. But then she shook her head as she dropped onto the leather couch, a spot she’d always purposely avoided, deciding this wasn’t the time for false assurances. And the truth was, pretty much everything sucked right now. When she opened her mouth, her voice came out sounding tearful and pathetic. “I got my butt kicked by a gang member. And I think my parents are making me quit the team . . .” Tears stung her eyes as her words tumbled over one another. Dr. Lee passed her a tissue. “I don’t blame them, really. Look at me. If I were them, I’d probably blame Sara too. But it wasn’t her fault.” She blew her nose.
Dr. Lee waited, crossing his legs.
“But the thing is, I’m not sure I can listen this time. I’ve always been so good . . . or at least I try to be. But this time . . . this is different. I mean, sure, I’m a little banged up.” She let out a watery laugh. “Okay, a lot banged up. But I just don’t think I can quit the team.”
Dr. Lee uncrossed his legs but remained silent.
Violet didn’t pause. “I need them. When I’m with them . . . it’s the only time I don’t feel like some sort of . . . freak.”
“Freak.” He repeated the word—her word—letting it linger between them.
“Yeah.” She nodded, letting her hands fall into her lap, her fingers clutching the tissue. “When I’m with them, I feel like . . . I’m not alone. That someone . . .” She shrugged. “Gets me.”
Dr. Lee nodded, slowly and noncommittally, not giving Violet any indication of what he was thinking. Of whether he was on her side or not.
His next question didn’t clear her confusion any. “Do you think that’s enough of a reason to disobey your parents? To feel like someone gets you?”
Violet frowned. There was more to her connection with them than that, wasn’t there? She owed them, she supposed, for saving her life. She understood them, sort of. And she was comfortable there. But was that really enough to say she belonged there? “Can I ask you a question?” Violet crumpled the tissue into a ball, wadding it tightly as her eyes met his. “Who do you work for? I mean, I never filled out any paperwork and you never asked for my parents’ insurance cards or anything. I know you see most of us on the team, for one reason or another, so does that mean you work for Sara? Do you tell them what I tell you? And if you do work for her, shouldn’t you be trying to talk me into staying with the team?”
Dr. Lee smiled. It was the most composed smile Violet had ever seen. More so even than her dad’s, and that was saying something. He handed her another tissue, and Violet took it, wiping her nose. “This might be hard for you to believe, Violet, but just because you want something doesn’t always mean it’s the best decision.”
Violet sat there quietly, considering Dr. Lee’s words. She wasn’t sure if he was talking about himself—and the team—and wanting her to remain part of their group. Or if he was talking about her threats to defy her parents.
Somehow, she felt like he meant both.
After a long moment, she spoke again, her voice faint. “You didn’t answer my question.”
His patient smile never faltered. “Which question was that, Violet?”
“Who do you work for?”
Dr. Lee exhaled. “I work for the same people you work for. The people who run the Center.”
Melancholy
HE SAT IN THE RESTAURANT, WATCHING THE girl. The corner booth that gave him the advantage of a full view while keeping him mostly hidden from view. It was a good place to be. A good place to watch.
Last night had been good for him. Seeing his mother after all these years. Facing his fears. Confronting childhood demons. Confronting her.
He felt stronger. Surer of himself and who he’d become.
Even when she’d berated him, even after they’d gone back to his place and she’d criticized his housekeeping, his décor, his taste in wine, he’d simply tuned her out, ignored her forked tongue. Ignored her blistering words and her venomous rants.
She could never appreciate the kind of man he was. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could understand a gentle soul like his.
It didn’t matter, though. He wouldn’t be seeing her again. After last night, he’d decided he was done with her.
Sitting back, he tried to erase the memories of his mother from his mind. He didn’t want to think about her right now, not while he was here. Watching her.
He studied the girl as she moved from table to table. She smiled and laughed, joking with those she spoke to. She was confident in ways that none of his other girlfriends ever had been.
Maybe that had been his problem. Maybe that was the reason none of his other relationships had worked out. He’d been choosing the wrong kind of girls.
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Maybe now he had the opportunity to change all that.
So what was wrong with him, then? Why couldn’t he concentrate? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about the other girl, the young one?
The one who’d needed him.
He was just tired, he told himself. Two nights without sleep . . . two long nights without someone he could come to, someone to soothe him and make him feel . . . better. It was starting to wear on him.
That was why he didn’t see her approaching, why she’d caught him unawares.
“Refill?” she asked, her big brown eyes watching him with vibrant intensity. The very same eyes that had brought him back here in the first place. And then he saw a spark of awareness. “You were here last night, weren’t you? With an older woman.” She reached across the table to fill his cup, leaning just a little too low and revealing a glimpse into the opening at the top of her blouse. “Your mother?”
It took only a moment to recover, to find his voice again. “Good memory.” His face slipped into the perfect mask of appreciation. “I couldn’t stay away, I guess.”
She paused, timing every move brilliantly. Her tongue flicked over her lips just before she dazzled him with a smile that, on anyone else, would’ve stolen their very breath. But not him. He knew the moment she’d become the aggressor, the moment she’d started calculating her moves that she wasn’t the one. She was different today than the night before . . . bolder, more aggressive. Wrong.
They were never supposed to seek him out.
He was the man in this relationship.
“Well, let me know if I can bring you anything else.” She smiled suggestively. And when he smiled back at her, an intentionally bland smile, she shrugged. “Enjoy your meal.”
He watched her short black skirt swish from side to side as she moved to the next table. It was better to know now, he silently assured himself, already erasing images of the waitress from his mind. Better that he hadn’t let himself get attached.
It didn’t matter anyway. There were plenty of other girls out there. Girls that would die to have a man like him. A true gentleman.
He waited until he was sure no one was looking and he reached into his front pocket, pulling out his cell phone. He scrolled through the photos he’d taken, ones he’d looked at a thousand times already. Ones he’d practically memorized.
He paused when he saw the ones he’d taken yesterday in front of the run-down warehouse he’d followed her to. His stomach clenched as he recalled hearing her cries for help, and he hated himself for not answering them. For hiding, and waiting.
Something had stirred in him. Something primal and possessive.
He glanced down at one of the images, recalling the way her eyes—the wrong color for him—had looked the day he’d spotted her, outside The Mecca.
At that moment, he realized it. He knew then that she needed him.
Suddenly it didn’t matter that she wasn’t his usual type. He ran his finger over her riotous curls, wondering what it would be like to have her vivid green eyes gazing into his.
There was definitely something about her.
Violet, he thought, repeating the name he’d overheard the boy on the street calling her that first day. Before he’d followed her. Before he’d known even more about her. Violet Ambrose.
Soon, he would sleep again.
Soon, he’d have a new girlfriend.
Chapter 19
VIOLET SIGHED WHEN SHE SAW THE MINIVAN IN her driveway, the one her aunt was always trying to convince her was cooler than a normal minivan. Violet insisted that a built-in DVD system and Bluetooth wireless didn’t change the fact that it was still a minivan.
It didn’t hurt her mood, though, to see that her car was back. The tan Honda was parked beside her aunt’s car, and despite her black mood, she plastered on her best fake smile, preparing herself to be smothered in well-meaning concern.
“Oh my!” Her aunt Kat pounced on her before she was even through the door, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as she got a look at Violet’s face. “Geez, Vi, I . . . are you . . .” Her face scrunched up. “Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you’re safe,” she breathed at last, pulling Violet into a fierce hug.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Violet recited the words, trying to make her aunt feel better.
“She’s lying.” Her uncle Stephen winked at her as he sauntered into the front room, joining them. The taste of dandelions flickered across Violet’s tongue, the imprint he’d forever carry on him.
“Hi, Uncle Stephen.” He hugged her too, tighter even than her aunt had. “Hey, baby. How’re ya doin’? Had a rough time of it, huh?”
There was no point denying the truth. “I’ve been better. Kinda sucks getting your ass kicked.”
Her uncle laughed against her ear, giving her one last squeeze. “Yeah, it kinda does, doesn’t it? Maybe you need some karate lessons or something. Next time you can be the kicker.”
“Next time I’ll try to run faster,” Violet said, hoping they’d bypassed the awkwardness of the situation.
But then her uncle’s expression changed, growing serious. “I think you should reconsider what you’re doing, Vi. With Sara Priest and her group. It’s dangerous. Just look at you.”
“You’ve been talking to my mother,” Violet accused, knowing it wouldn’t have mattered; her uncle would have felt the same way, with or without her mother’s interference. “Really, Uncle Stephen, it wasn’t Sara’s fault. She didn’t—”
“I doubt anyone thinks it was her fault. But sometimes when you’re involved in dangerous situations, even if you’re not directly involved, things can happen. This is just one of those times. No one’s blaming Sara, exactly, but you have to admit, if you hadn’t been working with her this probably wouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
Violet wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to admit anything, even if he was technically right. In her heart she knew Sara never meant for her to get hurt, that she’d have done anything to protect Violet. But Violet also knew she bore her share of the burden. If she hadn’t gone behind Sara’s back in the first place, breaking into Antonia Cornett’s house with Rafe and Krystal, she would never have met James Nua. He would never have tried to kill her.
And he’d still be alive today.
She shuddered at the thought of him, of what he’d done to his girlfriend and their two small children. She couldn’t help thinking he deserved what he got.
“Look,” her uncle said, his tone solicitous. Violet saw her mother leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, listening, and she forced herself to focus on her uncle instead, not wanting to see that judgmental look in her mom’s eyes. “Just think about it, Vi. Think about what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with.” He smiled at her, naked concern etched throughout every line of his face. “Believe me, if we didn’t love you, we wouldn’t nag.”
He draped his arm around his wife then, a broad grin parting his lips as he gazed down at her adoringly. “Unfortunately, you come from long line of stubborn women.” Violet didn’t bother pointing out that she and Kat weren’t actually related by blood; she had a feeling it wouldn’t have made a difference.
“Speaking of stubborn . . .” Maggie Ambrose said from her spot at the doorway. “The kids are begging to go to the park.” Two blonde heads poked out from behind her legs.
“You promised, Dad,” Joshua complained as Cassidy clumsily pushed him out of the way.
Cassidy stopped abruptly in front of Violet. “Owie!” the three-year-old frowned, pointing to the bruise on Violet’s face.
Violet half-laughed, half-scowled at the little girl. “Thanks, Cass. Just what I wanted to hear.” She held her hands out to her little cousin. “Come here, you.” When Cassidy jumped into her arms, Violet lifted her up. “So, you wanna go to the park, huh?”
“Wanna go to da park, Daddy!” Her tiny voice pealed throughout the room and Violet found herself envying her cousin’s exuberance.
G
lancing at her uncle Stephen, Violet offered, “I’ll take them.” She looked at Kat. “Really, I don’t mind.”
Kat nudged Joshy. “What do you think, guys? You wanna go to the park with Vi?” And then she turned to Stephen, her face expectant. “I might even be able to fit a quick Starbucks run after I drop you at the station.”
Uncle Stephen kissed his wife on the forehead. “Seriously, Kat, you gotta get out more. You need to dream a little bigger than Starbucks.”
Violet waved as Jay crossed the field. Not that he hadn’t already seen her, or rather Cassidy. The moment the little girl had spotted him, she’d started squealing his name and running in lopsided circles.
Clearly Violet had some competition.
After all the safety checks and double-safety checks—her aunt making sure the car seats were properly secured in the backseat of her Honda—Violet had texted Jay and told him to meet her at the park as soon as school got out.
She whistled when she checked the time on her phone. “You made record time, my friend. What’d you do, ditch class early to get here?”
He winked at her as he dropped to his knees to let Cassidy come barreling into his arms. “Jay! You’re here!” She shrieked when he caught her, and then he tossed her in the air, catching her before she came all the way back down. She was still laughing when she shouted breathlessly, “Wanna push me?”
She clutched his fingers and dragged him to the swing set. He waited patiently as the little girl wiggled back and forth, adjusting and readjusting her position. When she finally stopped squirming, Jay asked, “Ready, Cass?”
She just nodded up at him, her expression intent as her fingers clutched the chain.
“I have to admit, Ambrose, this was a pretty good idea.”
Violet took the swing next to Cassidy’s and pushed herself with her feet, leaning backward as the swing glided upward. She felt Jay’s hand at the small of her back, and he pushed her, propelling her forward.