Chapter 4 #2
Mary nudges me, just a fraction of an inch, but it’s enough to get me unstuck.
I walk closer. The machines beep, and I hear the door click behind me.
Mary has gone, and now it’s just the two of us, alone in this room.
I step to the foot of the bed, frozen, bracing for anything.
He scans my face, his eyes saying so much.
He opens his mouth and nothing comes out.
The room blurs at the edges, like all the oxygen is leaking out through a hole I can’t find.
He tries again. His voice is just not working.
I can’t help it, a sob rips out of my throat, unsuspecting and broken.
I move closer, closer, until I’m touching the bed, gripping the metal rail with both hands for balance.
I just stare at him, like I need to memorize every single new piece of him.
He moves his hand, clenches his fist then winces. Even that is enough to hurt.
I don’t know what to do.
What to say.
I do the only thing that I know how, joke through the pain. "So, this was your genius plan to get me back to town? Next time just drunk text me like a normal ex."
There’s a beat of total silence before he rasps, “That’s what you think?” and even half-awake and drugged out, he still manages to make me feel like I’ve been slapped. Some people are just built to knock you sideways, I guess.
I try to joke again. “Well, yeah. It worked, didn’t it?” My voice is wobbly. He’s staring at my hands, gripping the hospital railing.
When he finally meets my gaze, there is a level of broken in his eyes I have never seen before.
It hits me like a punch to the gut. “What the fuck made you think this was a good idea?” he croaks and I can see by the way he grimaces that talking hurts, but it doesn’t stop him.
“You think you can just show up, after all this time, and everything will be okay?”
I shake my head, somewhat confused. “You hurt me, Travis. I had no choice but to leave. I was drowning. Surely you understand that. I came because I care about you, because I wanted to see if you were okay...”
He shakes his head slightly, then squeezes his eyes shut, like there’s a headache behind his eyes he can’t quite shake. “If I wasn’t good enough to stay for then, why are you here now?” He drags each word across the surface of the bed between us, making each of them hurt more than the last.
I blink back the burning behind my eyes. “They said you were asking for me,” I manage. My voice is trembling. “I thought—" God, what did I think? That he would be happy to see me? That he would smile and everything would go back to the way it was?
Of course it can’t.
How can it when so much was broken?
He doesn’t answer, his face just remains impassive.
“I can go,” I hear myself say. “If you don’t—if you want—” but the words trip, and I stumble backward so hard my hip slams the metal edge of an IV stand.
He isn’t looking at me now, he’s just staring at his hands, his mouth so tight I can almost hear the rage that wants to spit from those lips. I wait, half-expecting him to change his mind, but the silence is final.
“I’ll go,” I whisper, and take three steps to the door. My arms are shaking, but I don’t reach for the handle yet. I want to see if he’ll call me back. It’s stupid, I know, but something deep inside me hopes he will.
He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t even lift his head.
His silence is all the answer I need.
Travis
I can’t fucking believe she’s here. Two goddamn years I’ve spent rotting in silence, every heartbeat haunted by the memory of her turning away—and now she breezes into my hospital room as if nothing ever happened.
Violet erased me from her life without a backward glance, and here she stands under these flickering fluorescent lights, looking exactly the same—but feeling more like a stranger than ever.
I slam my fist into the metal rail. Bones crack, a shockwave of pain rips through my arm, and I bellow in raw agony.
Harley, scribbling chords beside me, looks up.
He pushes to his feet, his face tight and more than a little pissed off with my action.
Harley isn’t known to go easy, and he sure as hell doesn’t take any shit, which is why he is the one sitting here beside me, trying to keep me from doing anything else that could harm someone.
“Cool it, man. Losing your shit won’t change a thing.”
“Why the fuck is she here?” I rasp, fists clenched so tight my knuckles go white.
“Because you nearly fucking died, brother.”
“That didn’t matter when she left,” I spit, voice raising. “I was gutted, pleading for her to stay, and she blocked me out like anything we ever shared together didn’t matter. Wouldn’t even fucking take a goddamned call to at least talk to me. It’s fucked.”
Harley crosses his arms, tilting his head. “It’s not always black and white.”
I laugh through gritted teeth. “Bullshit. It couldn’t be any more black and white if it tried. She walked and never looked back. End of story.”
He steps closer, leaning down so he can meet my furious glare. “You fucked up, too. Sometimes pain cuts so deep you can’t see past it.”
My ribs seize at the words. “I know I fucked up. I’d have torn out my own heart to fix us. But she wouldn’t even sit with me. She disappeared and never even bothered to give me closure.”
“Look, I’m not here to tell you what to do, man. I’m just here to make sure you don’t do any more dumb shit, like break your fucking hand. Will you just cool it and rest? That’s all you should be worrying about right now.”
I turn away and slam the pain button. Warm relief washes through my spine, dulling the ache. It’s the only mercy I get—from the shattered mess in my body and the fucking void in my heart.
Violet being back is the last thing I need. The final goddamn knife.
Violet
Two weeks.
That’s how long I avoid the hospital. The memory of Travis’s face and the way his words hit me like venom has been enough to keep me far from the place, but I know I can’t avoid it forever.
I have a choice: I either stay and sort it out with him, or I leave and never look back again.
That’s it. There really is no in-between.
I made the choice to stay, because his words cut deep.
He is hurt that I never gave him the chance, so now I’m doing that.
I’m not going to leave until I give him the chance to say what he needs to say.
Chief has been keeping me updated with daily texts when he visits.
So far, all I know is that he is out of ICU, doing well, and is in physical therapy.
He should be home any day now and is one lucky son of a bitch.
Chief’s words, not mine. Reagan hasn’t left yet, and is enjoying her job-free life.
Mostly, she is enjoying spending time with Harley.
The two of them have a somewhat rocky past, but I can clearly see being back in town has reignited some kind of flame that I thought was long put out.
“You’re not going to feel better avoiding him forever,” Reagan says as we sit across from each other on Chief’s sofa one evening, drinking cheap wine from plastic cups. “You gotta pull your big girl panties on and go and see him.”
I huff, swallowing another mouthful. “I know that, but it isn’t that easy to just walk in there and face him again. If you saw the way he looked at me, trust me, you’d understand.”
“Yes, I know, but you made a choice and I’m making you stick to that choice, even if you try to back out.”
I snort. “I have no doubt. I will go, I’m just not sure I’m ready to hear his angry voice yell at me...”
“Well, maybe he deserves a word or two.” She wiggles her eyebrows like this is sage advice, but she fills the second glass to the rim and tops off mine. “Tomorrow. I’ll go with you.”
Right.
Tomorrow.
That tomorrow comes far too quickly, and of course it has to be raining outside.
The kind of heavy rain that indicates it might just be a sign I should turn around and stop what we are doing, but Reagan isn’t taking no for an answer.
So much so, that she insists on driving so I don’t turn around.
While she does, I nervously chew my nail down to the flesh and count the potholes.
At the hospital, she practically drags me through the front door, my steps purposefully slow.
When Reagan is on a mission, there is no stopping her.
We find out his new room number, and when we’re outside, I pause, my Converse coming to a screeching stop on the tiled floor.
“Don’t back out now,” Reagan says, reaching for the door handle. “This needs to be done. Neither of you will move on until it is.”
I grit my teeth, but I don’t argue.
She shoves the door open, not even a knock.
Travis is sitting upright on the hospital bed, talking to Harley, who stands at the window eating a tub of green hospital jelly.
Travis’s hair is still the messy length that is starting to grow on me.
Something about the unkempt look suits him.
His chest is bare, tape, stitches, and tattoos exposed to every nurse that walks in.
I’m quite sure he is popular. Every muscle is cut sharper now, and he has filled out more in the last two years.
He’s dangerously gorgeous.
Both eyes turn in our direction.
“Well, this should be fun,” Harley grins, tossing the empty jelly cup into the bin.
Reagan giggles.
Travis’s eyes cut to me. Not a word, but the whole air in the room suddenly gets thick.
“Travis, I’ve seen you looking better,” Reagan says, walking over and giving him a hug, whether he wants it or not.
“Reagan,” he murmurs, voice still croaky but stronger. “Good to see you.”
I stand, awkwardly, not knowing exactly what to do.
“Well,” Harley claps his hands. “As entertaining as I know this will be, I gotta run. Reagan, I’ll call you later. And you two,” he looks between Travis and me. “Don’t kill each other.”
Then, he’s gone.
Silence stretches on, and Reagan looks awkwardly out the window.
“So,” I say, once again attempting to go for humour. “You didn’t die.”
Travis gives a hollow snort but doesn’t say anything.
I glance at my feet. “You look... stronger. Than you did last time, at least.”
“Last time you’d seen me I just woke from a fuckin’ coma and found out you were back in town. Safe to say, I wasn’t my best.”
I look to Reagan, and her eyes are wide as she stares at me. Then, she nods at me to keep going.
“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me again, but I couldn’t leave things the way they were.”
He lifts his chin, and his eyes are impassive. He isn’t letting me see a single thing. “Yeah, well, I figured you’d skipped town again so I’m surprised you’re here.”
He’s angry, that’s fine. I can take his anger.
I bite the inside of my cheek, hard. “Well, I didn’t. I came here to talk to you, because I wasn’t going anywhere until I did.”
His fingers twitch on the blanket, the only part of him that shows any kind of movement. “Well, how big of you.”
“No offence, but I actually don’t owe you anything, Travis.”
He barks out a laugh that sounds like it hurts. “Of course you don’t. You never fuckin’ face anything, do you, Violet.”
“Seriously? You’re angry that I walked away and never looked back. What the hell did you want me to do exactly? Sit around and watch you destroy yourself and us, over and over again?”
He flinches, and his face hardens. “The very least you could have done was let me fuckin’ talk to you, to have closure, to say goodbye...”
“Oh, what a load of crap,” I bark. “As if you would have let me go. We both know you wouldn’t have accepted me leaving. So don’t act like I had a choice.”
“There is always a fucking choice,” he grinds out.
I shake my head. “That’s not fair. You lied to me, Travis. You kept shit from me, shit that hurt. I left because you didn’t let me in, not just once, but over and over again.”
He grits his teeth. For a moment he looks like he might lose it, but then his voice drops low, dangerous.
“Did you ever ask why? Did you ever think for a fucking second that maybe I thought I was protecting you? That I wasn’t doing it to hurt you?
You don’t always get all the answers, Violet. Some things I keep because I have to.”
I huff, staring at him with a hard expression. “The old ‘I was just protecting you’ excuse isn’t enough. You should have told me everything...”
“Would it have fucking changed anything?” he barks, his voice cutting off as he clenches his fists.
“YES!” I slam my hand on the side of the bed. “Yes, it would have—because it wasn’t just about you, it was about us. But you broke that, and now you’re angry I didn’t stay and pick up the pieces so that you would fucking feel better about my decision to leave.”
“Fuck you,” he growls, his voice so low, so gravelly, it hurts to hear.
"No, fuck you,” I hiss, voice trembling so hard I barely recognize it. “You had a daughter, Travis, and you just forgot to mention it in all those months we were talking about trust and love.”
His face blanks, but not enough. I see the muscle jump at his jawline. “That wasn’t your fuckin’ business at that point, I was dealin’ with it before I could tell anyone.”
I flinch. “Not my business?” I whisper, my voice barely a hiss. “I didn’t ask for you to love me, Travis Phoenix. I came back, and you pushed. You wanted it. You made me fucking love you and then you made a choice to destroy that.”
His fists are clenching so hard his knuckles are white. He just stares, slow burn, and he won’t show me a single ounce of hurt, which only makes it feel a million times worse for me.
Reagan shifts, her hands dropping to her sides as she stares between the two of us.
I don’t look at her—I won’t look at anyone but him.
“You think I left because I’m a coward? I left because you broke me,” I croak, each word broken.
“You made me think it was all my fault. Like I was never enough. But the truth is, you have always been an expert at self-destruction.”
He looks at me, and for a second I see it—a hint of something. It might be regret, but he will never say it.
“You can leave.”
His voice comes out a slow, painful hiss.
I turn, rushing towards the door.
“Go back to your life, Violet. Run away, don’t look back, it’s what you do best.”
Every cell in my body wants to break him. “Fuck you, Travis.”
I get the hell out.
Reagan follows. I feel her behind me, but neither of us say anything. My chest shakes, but I don’t let myself cry until we are in the car and Reagan is behind the wheel. I want to scream, but even that seems pointless now.
“I know that hurt,” Reagan says, carefully. “But you both needed that.”
Did we?
Or did it just make everything a million times worse.