58. Violet
FIFTY-EIGHT
VIOLET
I walk back to Spring Meadows with a quicker pace than when I left class. I toss my bookbag down in my room, pace for a couple minutes and decide I’ll hold off on my assignments until I get back from Harrison Heights.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, bulldozing straight through my boundaries for someone else again. I remind myself I’m not doing this for just anyone. It’s for Colson, and if roles were reversed, I do think he’d do it for me, too.
Sorting through my closet and drawers, I slip on a pair of sweats, knowing Colson doesn’t care about what I wear. He isn’t petty and materialistic like that. I could wear a ripped shirt and stained pants that haven’t been washed in a week and he’d still look at me with fire in his eyes.
Or well, that’s how he used to look at me.
I push the thought out of my head, twist my hair into a sloppy braid that falls over my shoulder and make it down to my car. I blast the current top hits to keep my mind on merging onto the 401 and crossing the Sycamore Memorial Bridge. It almost feels like my trip is cut in half with how time speeds up. I drive up to Harrison General Hospital minutes later, the bright red E.R. signage taunting me as I find a parking spot. It’s there as a reminder of what it was like to show up the other night. How my heart was in my throat and my stomach wasn’t far behind.
I shove away the thought and make it up to his wing. Bypassing the nurse’s station, I stand outside of his door, noticing it’s cracked the tiniest bit. Not enough for me to peek inside to see if he has any other visitors but enough to notice voices and a television playing.
My heart seizes, and my brain overthinks walking in. They rage a war with each other right outside of his room like I’m not even present. A nurse walks by with an ice pack, giving me a friendly smile as I internally freak out.
I don’t know why I’m acting like it’s the first time I’ve spoken to Colson. We have history. We know each other.
A little bird tells me why I’m stuck from moving another step forward. It has nothing to do with the situations we’ve been through and everything to do with not wanting to be rejected again.
I don’t want to put myself back out there, demolish my own boundary lines, and have him douse me with his frigid side and push me away.
Mentally, physically, emotionally…I can’t withstand a storm that tumultuous.
I blow out a steady, though anxious, breath and tap my knuckle on the door. I have my messenger back strapped over my chest with my assignments due at the end of the week in case Colson sleeps and I’m able to get time to work on them.
A soft, “Come in,” chimes from inside. It sounds like Bess. I toe a thin line between wanting to ditch this place and run straight into Colson’s arms, nuzzling my face into his neck until he’s miraculously healed.
The room is darker than the last time with the shades drawn closed and the fluorescent lighting brightening the space in a soft white-glow. Bess is sitting on an armchair in the corner when I make it past the door, Thad sits next to her in an equally as comfortable chair, and Sebastian hovers next to Colson’s bed, showing him something on his phone while he sits up, forking what I assume to be his dinner into his mouth.
“Oh, look who we have here,” Bess croons, standing from her chair and crossing the room. She pulls me into a hug, squeezing me in that motherly way of hers as my attention darts around the room.
Still in her embrace, I raise my hand in a little wave. I’ve never felt so awkward in my life. “Hi, everyone.”
“Nice to see you, Violet,” Thad greets, giving me a chin nod.
Bess pulls away, scanning me head to toe. She’s quiet when she says, “Thank you for coming.” She looks at me like she was waiting for this moment. Or maybe, rather, her nephew was. “I think he could use cheering up.”
I swallow at the sudden thickness in the back of my throat. I didn’t consider Colson having visitors. This awkwardness blankets me from top to bottom, and I don’t know why. Two days ago, I sat with Bess and Sebastian as we waited for Colson to get out of surgery. I was with them the night of the fundraiser when we all raced to this same hospital. But then my gaze wanders over to the bed sitting in the center of the room, and my eyes connect with the pool of blue already on me.
How is it possible he can look like that after enduring the trauma he did? He may be in a hospital gown, only one arm free due to his sling, but he’s as gorgeous as ever. The physical memory of his accident curls up over his neck, the skin around it peppered in bruises, but he’s still the Colson I met and am still so much in love with that it isn’t even funny.
He sets his fork down on his tray, pushing back his half-eaten attempt at dinner. His eye still sports one hell of a shiner, the swelling still there, but I’d stare at him forever, pushing down the uneasy sensation it pulls into my stomach if it meant he’d always be okay.
A thin layer of stubble coats his chin and cheeks. I want to run my palm over the roughness of it before slipping the pads of my fingers over the smoothness of his beautiful, thick lips.
Bess returns to her seat. At least, I think she does. With Colson’s attention focused solely on me, it’s hard to pay attention to anyone else. He looks at me like I’m the only one in this room. Like he can’t believe I’m here but also like he’s been waiting for me for an eternity.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Sebastian teases, slipping his phone into his jeans pocket. I tiptoe farther into the room and his hand grasps my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly before he slips past me in a silent offering of giving me his perch at Colson’s bedside.
“We were just getting ready to head out for the evening,” Bess informs me, gathering her belongings.
I twist back on my heel, catching Colson as he picks up a napkin and wipes his mouth from my peripheral. “Please stay. You don’t have to leave because I’m here.”
“We’ve been here for, like, three hours,” Sebastian says, grabbing his coat hanging over the foot of Colson’s bed. “Surprised he hasn’t kicked us out yet.”
“I was giving you five more minutes,” Colson jokes back.
Sebastian chuckles—I’m relieved to see he’s back to his regular self—and slips his arms into his coat while Bess comes to Colson’s side and gives him the best hug he can manage. She kisses the side of his head then moves for the door. “Have a lovely visit, you two,” she says before Thad gives Colson’s leg a squeeze and pat. He follows her out to the hallway a second later.
Sebastian loiters with a content smile playing at his lips. He looks so much better than he did when he busted into my bedroom full of worry. “Be back in the morning with your bagels?”
“Only if they have the strawberry filled ones,” replies Colson. “The regular cream cheese makes me want to gag.”
I awkwardly keep quiet and glance at Colson’s tray. There’s still food on his plate; mashed potatoes, a lump of chicken, and mushy carrots. A cup of vanilla pudding sits off to the side, a spoon next to it.
Sebastian says his goodbyes. “See you later, Vi. Don’t let this one out of your sight.”
Colson rests his head on his propped pillow, not bothering to shove his table off to the side. It’s one that hovers over the bed, and it makes it easy for him to reach for his can of ginger ale. He grabs it and sips through a straw.
Sebastian exits the room, and then it’s just us. Two people who used to be more than awkward glances and uncomfortable words. And then he points out how I haven’t been around. “Wasn’t sure if I’d be lucky enough to see you again.”
I drop to the chair next to his bed, the feet of it screeching across the floor when I tug it closer to the bed. “Surprise,” I give him a cumbersome smile. “I’m here.”
His gaze dances across my face. “You really are.”
My stomach is laden with butterflies as he takes me in, the heat of his stare making me spark with anticipation. He used to look at me like that all the time. With this underlying affection begging to peek its way out and be seen.
I point to his food. “Not hungry?”
He shrugs his non-injured shoulder and blinks. “My stomach is still woozy from the pain meds. Doc says it’s normal, but I have a hard time eating a lot in one sitting. That, and, the food around these parts isn’t exactly Michelin star quality.”
I grimace. “That bad?”
“Let’s just say I’d rather drink that peanut butter and jelly smoothie you love so much.”
My stomach swoops from the memory of sitting across from him and sharing drinks at Sweet Smoothies. “Careful what you wish for,” I tell him with light humor. “Or you might find one materializing in front of you. Poof . Out of thin air.”
“If you’re the reason for it magically appearing, then by all means, I’ll drink down every last drop.”
I grin. “Sure you would.”
“I’d endure a lot more than a smoothie to keep you around, Vi,” he murmurs.
I drop my gaze, fumbling the sleeves of my sweatshirt as a warmth breaks out over my skin.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Colson mumbles. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
“No, it’s, uh…” I look up at him, pushing away the need to crawl onto his bed next to him. “It’s okay.” I change the subject, remembering why I’m here. Because Finn said he had a panic attack. Or something a hell of a lot like one.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “You look tired but like you’re getting stronger every minute.”
“Well, I’m basically imprisoned in this goddamn bed. I piss through a tiny tube, and my entire left side feels like it fought a war my right side knew nothing about.”
“And you had to be sedated earlier,” I add for him, watching his face for a reaction. “Might not want to leave that one out.”
His gaze cuts to me as he thinks about how I’d know that. “I told you to stay away from Finn, Violet. He’s bad news. When are you going to believe that?”
“I was walking home from class, and he came up to me,” I explain. “I didn’t seek him out.”
“You should’ve told him to get lost.”
“He’s worried about you.”
“He’s worried about his own internal demons. He thinks suddenly being in my life is going to fix his past and make us the brothers he thinks we are. Besides,” he adds with a brief pause. “I wasn’t sedated. They just gave me anxiety meds to relax.”
“You are brothers, Colson. Maybe it’s in an unconventional way that inconveniences you, but you are . ”
“Drop it, Vi,” he says coldly. “He’s the last person I want to talk about, especially with you.”
Annoyance flitters over my skin. Of course he doesn’t want to talk about it.
This isn’t what I want. I don’t want to struggle through important conversations. I need him to talk to me. I need him to trust in me enough to share his buried wounds and personal tribulations.
I hate that I don’t know how to make that happen. That we had something so incredibly special that was stripped away by the storm clouds that rolled in above us. They’re a permanent fixture, dangling with the most conniving smirks on their emotionless faces just because they can.
I lean back in my seat, feeling resigned. “Fine, Colson. We don’t have to talk at all.”
I reach for my bag propped on the floor and dig out my notebook for class. I’m boiling with unadulterated irritation but trying like hell to shift my focus to something that will mellow me out.
Two minutes go by before he says, “Jesus, Violet, put your book away.” It sounds like an order, but it’s not a very demanding one.
“If you don’t want to talk, then I’ll keep myself busy,” I retort.
“Why’d you come then? When it’s clear you don’t even want to fucking be here. You want to study for your bullshit classes then go do it at home.”
I nibble on the corner of my lip because how fucking dare he.
I’m here for his own well-being, whether he knows it or not. I wonder if he knew, if he’d change his tune, if he’d treat me with a little more kindness. If he’d stop looking at me like he suddenly doesn’t want me next to him.
Our eyes connect when I look up, my notebook resting on my lap. “You can be a real jerk sometimes, you know that? I’m here because I want to be.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he breathes out, annoyed with himself, as his eyes fall closed. “It’s the meds. They make everything feel like so much more than it is.” His voice softens, and he opens his eyes to look at me. “Still, you don’t need to be here, Vi. I’ll be good on my own. Go home,” he says in defeat with a gentleness he didn’t have a minute ago.
When he turns his attention back to the movie on the TV, I get this urge to rip the screen off the wall and toss it out the window when he pretends like I’m not sitting in the chair next to him anymore.
All along, I’ve only ever wanted to be there for him. I wanted to stand by his side and help him through the hardships because I love him. I’ve tried communicating with him time and time again for him to repeatedly push me away and tell me he didn’t want me anymore. This is why I didn’t want to come and put myself back out there.
My tongue rolls over the fronts of my teeth, and I let out an exasperated breath. Emotion claws at my heart and clutches it in a fine grasp when I don’t force it away. The heartbreak I’ve worked so hard to get over circles me.
I shove my notebook back into my bag and stand. I hoist the strap of my bag over my head and walk for the door. If he doesn’t want me here, then fine , I’ll leave. Finn can figure this out on his own.
My hand curls around the door handle, ready to yank it open and be free, except Colson’s voice tackles me from behind. “Violet, wait.” There’s a sincerity in it but also this pleading undertone that voices how much he needs me to listen. “Please,” he mutters. “I’m sorry I’m being an asshole. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to watch you walk out that door and be left with the guilt that’ll consume me when I realize how much I’ve fucking ruined what was between us.”
My hand pulses on the cool metal handle. I debate ignoring him and walking out, similar to the night of his accident when I received his text. Until I remember what followed; the horrific news of him being hurt.
I turn back around and ask him the one thing that has been prodding me in my sides ever since. I want to know why he sent that message. “Why did you want to meet up with me?”
Confusion slips over his features, taking some of the heartbreak that was present in his tone. “Meet up with you?”
Grabbing my phone out of my sweatpants pocket, I lift it and show it to him. “You sent me a message the night of your accident. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, shit,” he sighs. “I forgot about that.”
“You said you wanted to meet up and talk. Why? What did you want to talk about? I need to know so I can gain clarity or closure. Something other than what I’ve been feeling.”
His teeth scrape over his bottom lip and he asks, “What are you feeling?”
I shake my head, glancing away before settling back on him. There’s a wide berth between me and his bed. One I don’t plan on closing anytime soon. “Like what we had was nothing. Like you don’t want me here. Like we’re not worth fighting for. Like if I walk away now, it’ll be the end of whatever is left of us.”
“So, then don’t walk away.”
“Colson, I?—”
“No, look at me.”
“I am looking at you. A minute ago, you told me to go home. Now you’re telling me to stay. It’s so fucking confusing. I don’t know what to think or feel when I’m in the same room as you because I don’t…”
His capable hand fists the bed sheets below him. “Because you don’t what?”
“Because I don’t know if you want me. And not just in that way, but in any capacity. I’ve tried to be there, and you’ve shoved me to the side so many times I physically can’t take it again.”
He imprints a slash over his bottom lip when he bites into it again. “Will you please come over here? I don’t want to have this conversation with you a million miles away.”
I nod subtly, swinging my bag onto the chair I was sitting on and stand next to his bed.
“Sit down?”
Squeezing my butt on the sliver of space at the edge of his bed, he lifts his right hand over my legs, resting it on my outer thigh. My stomach erupts with a volcanic level of nerves when he grazes his hand over me and gently digs his fingers into my covered skin.
“Why is it you’re always wearing sweats when I’m desperate to feel you?” he whispers, blue gaze set on mine.
“Colson,” I murmur, because now isn’t the time to comment on my outfit of choice or how thick the fabric might be.
“I know, I’m sorry.” He rubs his palm up my leg again until it’s high enough to hook his fingers into my pocket. “I do want you, Vi. There’s not a day in my life since I’ve met you that I haven’t wanted you. I thought we’d both be better off if I pushed you away. I couldn’t fucking think straight after finding out about my mom. I wanted it all to fade to black, and I couldn’t risk the same happening with you, so I let you go,” he explains.
My chest caves with the intensity of his words and stare.
He’s so freaking handsome, even in this bed, even with cuts and bruises smattering his face.
“I want you in every capacity, baby. My body aches every time I think about you just to be reminded that you’re nowhere near. Everything good that exists inside of me is there because of you. I don’t want to fight with you. For the first time in a long time, I have clarity. I texted you because I want you back. I want every goddamn piece of you. You’re mine. You always will be in my head. And you’re right, what we have—or had— was special. I was an idiot to ever throw it away, but I can see clearly now, and you’re all I fucking want. You’re all I've ever wanted.”
I reach up and carefully cover his cheek with my hand. His hair is longer, and I run my fingers into it gently, making sure not to hurt him. “Colson,” I choke out. I’ve waited a long time to hear everything he just said, but…I don’t know if it’s too late.
“Don’t say my name like that, Violet. Like you’re already halfway out the door and can’t get away fast enough. Please let me drag you back into my life. I want you in my orbit. For fucking ever, I swear.”
He unhooks his fingers from my pocket and runs his hand up my extended arm. He goes up until his fingers smooth over the chunkiness of my sweatshirt and his palm fastens to the side of my neck, drawing me closer.
His gaze bounces around my face until his eyes drop to my lips and stay there. “You’re so fucking pretty, Vi. It makes me insane, knowing you’re so close but so goddamn far away.” His thumb trails over my bottom lip. “Put your walls down. I know they’re there because of me, but I need you to tell the army to stand down. Tell them I’m done hurting you. Tell them…” he swallows, and I commend his ability to stay focused because I’m barely hanging on myself.
My lungs are so close to giving out after not drawing in a breath for far too long. My heart thumps in my chest, pounding out a beat like the paws of a cheetah running at full speed.
“Tell them what, Colson?” I whisper, running my fingertips over a scattering of scratches under his lashes.
“Tell them I’m so fucking incredibly in love with the girl they guard. And that they’d be doing a disservice to mankind by not allowing me to love her the way she deserves.”
Someone must tie a string to my heart because it’s suddenly out of my chest and floating with the likes of the clouds. He pulls my face a smidge closer, and yes, I’m dying for him to kiss me, but the logical, fearful side of my brain has me pumping the brakes.
“You love me?” I question, because I need to hear it again.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he whispers in a brittle voice.
“I…”
“You don’t have to say it back, Vi. That’s not why I said it. I said it because it’s how I feel. I am lost when it comes to you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so damn long to get here.”
I drown in the deep blue of his gaze. “No, that’s not what I was going to say. I’m scared, Colson.”
“I know, baby. But I promise, I’m going to be better. It’s okay if you need time and proof to believe that. We don’t have to write anything in stone. I won’t force you to be here if you don’t want to be, but I would fucking love it if you were.”
I nod, unable to take my eyes off him. “It might take a little bit of time.” Between Webber and everything with Colson, my heart needs time to catch up, and to be sure it’s no longer in a danger zone.
“I understand.” He applies pressure to my neck, a silent nudge for me to cut away more of the space between our mouths. I follow his lead because I’m helpless when it comes to him.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
When we’re centimeters from touching, he hums, “You’re welcome, baby.”
His lips smooth over mine in the slowest of ways a beat later. They’re soft and sweet and exactly how I remember them. His stubble cuts into my chin, but in a way that is mind-blowingly delicious. A groan tumbles out of his mouth and into mine when I skim my tongue against his. His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck. The slight pull of them tugging at the strands ignites a flurry of arousal through every inch of me while simultaneously mending my cracked heart. It soars from the dark depths of deprivation.
My heart squeezes when he pulls away and nuzzles his nose against mine. He presses one more kiss to my lips then rests back, his eyes glazed over with an emotion I know all too well but haven’t seen in forever—affection. “I fucking love your lips.”
“These old things?” I tease, pointing at them.
“There’s nothing old about them,” he quips, staring at them. “They’re the perfect combination of pink, wet, and plump. Enough to heal. See.” He lifts his slinged arm and gives it a tiny jostle like it doesn’t trigger excruciating pain in his collarbone.
“Colson!” I chide. “Don’t do that.”
“Ah, yeah,” he winces, gently pulling his arm back close to his chest. “They’re more of a five-to-seven day treatment plan than an instantaneous cure.”
I shake my head at him, smiling. “So,” I mull, running my fingers over the softness of his hospital gown. “Are you going to tell me what happened earlier?”
He stares at me. “I don’t want to,” he admits. My heart falls like a house of cards and a frown pulls at my lips. “But I will because I can’t relive you walking away from me with that look of disappointment you had in your eyes earlier.” Hope blossoms in my chest, because finally , we’re making progress. “I’ve seen it too much and this look you’re sporting now? Way fucking better.”