23
Broadway
S howered and dressed for the day, I exit my bedroom a few minutes past nine and pause in the doorway, my eyebrows bunching together.
What the actual fuck?
I blink twice, running a hand down my face. This is the last thing I expected.
Violet’s not in her room... but she is asleep.
In fact, she’s passed out in the hallway, curled into a ball, one hand under her head and... an empty bottle of wine discarded a few steps away.
Guilt rips through me because I should’ve known she’d sneak out of her room after we headed to bed. I should’ve known she’d finish the wine alone.
She wouldn’t be the first person reaching for alcohol after being dealt a shitty hand. I’m surprised Carter never mentioned her raiding his liquor cabinets at night.
Then again, I saw how she acts around him. Not nearly as relaxed as with me. Carter’s commanding, controlling ways have grown twice as potent since he found Hailey.
Like that overprotective streak cranks up his dark side to guarantee her safety.
Instead of taking a minute to think through my next move, I crouch beside Violet, running the tips of my fingers down her arm.
Those gorgeous purple eyes pop open, flashing with panic. She inhales a lungful of air as if she’s been underwater this whole time and bolts upright.
I stumble back, giving her more space because the panic in her eyes isn’t subsiding. She’s flushed, and clearly sore all over. Who wouldn’t be after a night on the floor?
“Morning,” I say, watching her eyes dart left and right. “Why are you out here?”
She swings her gaze down the hallway and her cheeks heat when she spots the empty wine bottle. “I... um...”
“It’s fine,” I cut in.
I don’t know half the shit she lived through while playing Noretto’s golden goose, so who the fuck am I to judge? So she drank almost the whole bottle by herself. Who cares? If it helped her sleep without nightmares, then I guess it’s a win.
My first instinct is to grab her shoulders and haul her up, but I’ve seen her flinch one too many times. She’s only allowed me to touch her when she’s been anxious, scared, panicking.
She’s none of those things now.
I don’t want to abuse the privilege, so I stifle the impulse and hold my hand out instead, hoping she’ll take it.
She doesn’t, slamming a wave of regret into my chest that robs me of my breath. This is far from the morning I planned while showering in my en suite.
With visible stiffness, she clambers to her feet, silent and a little unsteady.
“How do you take your coffee?” I ask.
Ignoring the fact I found her passed out on the floor might not be the best strategy, but it’s the only one I have.
Maybe if I give her space, she’ll talk to me when she’s ready.
She looks up, utterly embarrassed but a little grateful I’m not asking how she ended up here. It’s fairly fucking obvious given her bloodshot eyes, blown pupils, and trembling hands.
“No sugar,” she whispers. “A little milk, please.”
“I’ll make you a cup while you grab a bath.” I step out of her way, gesturing toward the main bathroom. “Do you need painkillers?”
Her lips part, eyes darting away. “No, I’m okay, I—”
“Bath, Violet. Now. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
With that, I turn, snatch the empty wine bottle, and disappear into the kitchen, listening to her small feet padding toward her bedroom.
Grinding my teeth so hard my jaw hurts, I grip the edge of the breakfast bar and hang my head low, a painful tightness seizing my chest.
I fucking hate seeing her so vulnerable. So timid.
Carter said her therapy was going well, but I’m starting to doubt his judgment.
◆◆◆
Another morning, another random encounter with Violet on the hallway floor. It’s been two days since I last found her like this. It’s Monday morning and I’ve been dreading this day since she agreed to stay with me this weekend.
I haven’t asked whether she wants to move back to Carter’s house tonight or if we’re just going there to grab the rest of her things.
I fucking hope it’s the latter...
I pinch the bridge of my nose, staring at Violet sleeping on the hallway floor. She has a blanket this time and there are zero wine bottles in sight.
As quietly as possible, I set off to the kitchen, checking the trash before I move into the living room and rummage through the liquor cabinet. Nothing seems missing. Not a single bottle looks out of place. Not one has had its contents replaced with water or weak tea.
Looks like she wasn’t drunk... so why the fuck is she asleep in the hallway?
I march back into the kitchen, make her a cup of coffee, then crouch beside her, running my fingers down her cheek.
“Violet... wake up.”
She stirs, nuzzling her face further into her arm. A second later her white eyelashes quiver, eyes open, and she bolts upright, pink in the cheeks once more.
She stares at me, then frowns at the cup of coffee I hold out. “I... I thought I’d wake up first,” she admits, resignation flooding her features. “I didn’t drink last night.”
I figured out that much already.
“Why are you sleeping here? Is there something wrong with your bedroom? I’d ask if the bed’s uncomfortable, but I doubt it’s worse than the floor.”
Taking the coffee from me, she rests her back against the wall, her fingers snapping around the cup. Her neck’s dotted with goosebumps. She’s right next to the aircon vent, so I doubt she’s been warm all night.
“Violet,” I urge, forcing her to look at me while I slump onto the floor opposite, a cup of my own in hand. “Why were you sleeping here?”
The back of her head hits the wall. She closes her eyes tightly then exhales a deep breath. “It clicks,” she mutters, gesturing toward the vent. “It hums, and every few seconds, it clicks.”
I cock an eyebrow, processing the bizarre sentence, but despite trying very fucking hard, I don’t understand any of it. “You’ll have to be clearer than that.”
She brings the cup to her lips, blowing the steam off before taking a small, careful sip. “It’s so quiet here at night. You don’t even have a clock ticking softly in the background. Not that it’d help. The one at Carter’s was too quiet, but this...” She points at the vent again. “This is just loud enough to let me sleep.”
Fuck. Realization slams into me and my mind flashes with the image of her on the windowsill night after night. Always awake, always staring out over the driveway or reading a book. That one night when the storm hit and rain fell in sheets, wind howling like a wounded animal...
And then on my couch, the music up way too loud to sleep, yet she did.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I run a hand through my hair, my teeth clenched so hard it’s fucking painful.
“It was always noisy at Noretto’s,” she continues, her eyes peeking at me then quickly darting away. “Music, TV, footsteps, the pipes groaning... it was never quiet. Not once.” A deep eleven carves its way between her brows. “I can’t explain it. It’s stupid given I jump any time a car pulls up Carter’s drive, but at night... when it’s so, so quiet, my mind whirrs a hundred miles an hour. The past six months play on a loop in my head and I can’t sleep.”
That’s why she always slept in the morning, when Carter and Hailey were up, making noise and drowning out her screaming thoughts. That’s why she wasn’t sitting in the window that stormy night and the music was playing while she napped on the couch.
And now... she’s spent two nights curled around the aircon vent because it clicks .
My ears perk up and, surely, not a few seconds later, click .
It’s barely there but I bet it’s much louder when you press your ear to it in the dead of night.
My guts twist painfully. I’m kicking myself for not connecting the dots. “Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve fixed it in a heartbeat.”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I manage. I sleep when you’re out, but I’m just so tired...” She takes another sip of coffee, cheeks pinking up more. “I think my body’s crashing down because for the first time in months I actually feel safe.”
“That’s good,” I rush out. “You are safe, Violet. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”
She smiles softly, nodding once. “I know... and I think that’s why I’m so exhausted. Because I’m no longer on high alert and my mind’s trying to compensate for those adrenaline-filled months. I slept for hours while you were out yesterday and when you went to bed, I felt like a lead weight, but I couldn’t sleep in the silence.”
Every part of me fucking screams, begs to grab her hand, nuzzle her into my chest, then take her to bed and hold her while she sleeps. I know she doesn’t need me to watch over her, but I do... I’d give a lot for the opportunity.
“You need to talk to me, Violet.” I inhale a deep breath, marshaling the emotions frying my nerves. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“You’ve already done more than enough, and there’s no way I can ever repay—”
“Don’t,” I snap, grinding my teeth. “You don’t owe me anything. Not me, not Carter, not Hailey. Is that clear?”
She pinches her lips, then lets the brightest smile I’ve seen on her to date curl her lips and I’m fucking done for. If I wasn’t fixated on this girl before then this smile’s pierced my heart like cupid’s arrow.
“I tried playing music in my room,” she says, blowing more steam from her coffee. “But I can’t work out how to isolate the speakers to one room.”
To be perfectly honest, neither can I, but I get up and enter her bedroom. It takes a few tries to pull up the sound system settings and a few more to confirm Violet’s right: there’s no way to constrict the music to one specific room.
Or maybe there is, but I can’t fucking find it. I didn’t pay the sound system much attention when I bought this place. I only listen to music when I’m cooking, and there’s usually only me here, so it doesn’t matter that the whole penthouse fills with whatever I’ve chosen.
“There’s no such setting, is there?” Violet asks, leaning against the doorframe, the blanket she used all night and while we sat in out in the hallway now folded over her arm.
She’s in silk two-piece pajamas, the shorts just long enough to cover her ass, the camisole dipping between her breasts, and the black fabric contrasting her milky skin.
God, she’s fucking breathtaking.
And thin. Too thin. So thin, in fact, her ribs are visible through the fabric hugging her left side.
“Not that I can see,” I say. “Don’t worry, I’ll have this sorted before tonight.” I pull my phone out of my back pocket and dial Ryder’s number.
If anyone can find a workaround, it’s him.