23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
SETH
It had been three days since I dropped Violet off at her house Friday night, and every day since then I wanted to call or text her.
But the problem was I had no clue where to go from there.
I put my other earbud in and pushed play before raising my ax and bringing it down in the center of a piece of wood, splintering it in half.
It wasn’t like I needed the wood yet. It was still August, so I wasn’t planning on using my fireplace. But the task helped keep my body busy while I struggled to calm my mind. I put another log in front of me and brought the ax down hard again.
After ten more pieces, I pulled my phone out, not able to stop thinking about her.
Me: How’s your day going?
After ten minutes with no reply, I typed out another message.
Me: Want to grab lunch or coffee or something one day this week?
What felt like forever, but was probably only twenty minutes later, she responded.
Violet: I’m home sick today. I’ll let you know once I’m feeling better.
Home sick? Was that just an excuse? Had she decided she didn’t want to do this anymore? The thought sat like lead in my gut.
I jumped in the shower and swung by the store on the way to her place. I needed to know. If I needed to, I would lay my cards on the table. Because the thought of not seeing her felt like someone just sucker punched me in the stomach.
I knocked on her door, and after a minute the door swung open. Violet stood, wrapped in a blanket, skin pale and free of any makeup.
Jesus. I thought she was beautiful with all that dark shit on her face, but this Violet was breathtaking. Except it was obvious she really wasn’t feeling well.
“What are you doing here?”
“Wanted to check on you.” I held up the grocery bag in my hand. “I got you stuff from the store.”
I took a step forward and she sighed, opening the door wider and stepping out of the way. “Seth, I don’t want to get you sick. I’m fine. It’s just the flu or something.”
I didn’t give a shit if she got me sick. I reached out and placed the back of my hand on her forehead. Fuck. She was burning up.
“Have you taken anything?”
She shook her head. “Not since early this morning.”
“Come on.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and led her to her couch. “I wasn’t sure what flavor Gatorade you liked, so I got four different ones.”
She sent me a weak smile. “Red is fine.”
I opened the cold medicine and handed her the two capsules before opening the red bottle of Gatorade and handing her that as well. “Have you eaten anything today?”
She shook her head.
“Think you can try some soup if I make it?”
“Seth, you don’t have to do?—”
“Violet, I’m not leaving.”
She sighed. “Fine, it’s your funeral. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Well, if I get sick, then you can come take care of me.”
She laid her head back against the top of the cushion and closed her eyes. “What soups do you have?”
“Chicken noodle, chicken and rice, or vegetable.”
“Chicken noodle, please.”
I wanted to sit with her and hold her, but she needed to eat too. She didn’t open her eyes or look back at me, so I went into the kitchen and started heating up the soup.
I smiled as my gaze landed on the African Violet. It looked like it was thriving, and I loved that she was actually taking care of it. Lucy used to forget about them and would end up killing them.
After I finished heating up the soup, I brought it back into the living room. “Here you go.”
Violet lifted her head and sat up straight, taking the bowl from my hands. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I sat down next to her, looking her over. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and the color was coming back to her face a little.
The blanket she’d wrapped around her shoulders had dropped to her waist when she sat up.
I froze as my gaze ran over the front of her loose-fitting white T-shirt, curious if she was wearing a bra.
The material pulled against her breast as she moved her hand to her mouth, taking a bite of soup.
The outline of her nipple—along with something else—became visible before she moved her arm again and the shirt relaxed against her once more.
I couldn’t be sure, but was it a nipple piercing I thought I saw?
My dick seemed to like that idea very much, and the urge to find out was overwhelming.
I shifted uncomfortably. The last thing she needed was me sporting a hard-on while she was sick.
Pull it together, Davis.
She stole a glance over at me. “You know you really don’t have to do all this. It’s not like you’re my real boyfriend or anything.” She chuckled awkwardly, leaning forward and placing her bowl on the table.
I locked my jaw tight. Because—fuck me—I wanted that damn title. But this wasn’t the moment to make that declaration.
“I know, but I want to. Besides, I need you better by this weekend.”
She tilted her head, and her brows pulled together. “Why? What’s this weekend?”
“The Labor Day parade and block party thing?”
“Oh. Right.” Her brows were still furrowed. “Why do you need me though?”
“Because I told Zack you would help me with the firehose demonstration and activity. He didn’t believe I’d be good with the kids by myself.”
She chuckled. “And he was okay with me helping?”
I shrugged. “He said I’m less cranky when you’re around.” Probably because she didn’t mind talking to people and letting me be me.
“And when were you going to tell me you voluntold me for this?”
“Um, today?” I offered. “But then you said you were sick.”
She laid back against the cushion with a slight chuckle. I stood and lifted the blanket. “Here, why don’t you lie down and try to rest.”
She turned and pulled her feet up, lying horizontally on the couch. I covered her with the blanket, and my chest felt funny as she stared up at me with a smile.
“Thank you,” she mumbled as her eyes drifted closed.
I picked up her bowl and carried it into the kitchen.
There were dishes in the sink, a half-cut lemon and an empty tissue box on the counter.
I cleaned up and put the dishes in the dishwasher, gave the African violet a little water, and moved into the living room, gathering trash from the coffee table.
I gently placed the back of my hand against Violet’s forehead and breathed a sigh of relief that she was no longer running a fever. Hopefully it stayed like that. After I finished cleaning up, I relaxed in one of the chairs across from her, closing my eyes.
A noise roused me, and I opened my eyes to see Violet walking back in from the kitchen. Had I fallen asleep? I sat up, taking in her bewildered expression.
“Did you clean the kitchen?”
“Just put the dishes in the dishwasher and cleared off the counters a bit.”
“If I weren’t currently sick right now, I’d kiss you.” Her brows rose and pink tinged her cheeks. “Like, not literally. I just meant… You know, thank you.”
I smirked at the fact that she was tongue-tied. But I definitely wouldn’t mind a thank you kiss. Glancing at my watch, I bit back a groan. I didn’t want to leave her, but I had to be at the station in the next hour and still had to run home to get my stuff.
I stood and walked over to her, feeling her forehead again. Good, still no fever.
“I have to go.”
Her lips turned down into a pout and I smiled, loving that she didn’t want me to leave either.
I let my hands rest on her shoulders before slowly moving them down her arms. “I’m on shift tonight. Call me if you need anything, though. We can swing by.”
She shook her head. “I won’t need anything.”
“If you do, promise you’ll call?”
She stared at me, so much uncertainty in her eyes that it was killing me. I wanted to tell her that in a few short weeks she’d become so much more than a fake anything. That I wanted whatever this was between us to be real. I just hoped she felt the same way.
But I wasn’t going to say any of that right now. When I told her those things, unless she told me she didn’t feel the same, I wouldn’t be walking away.
Finally, she nodded and I forced myself to step back. “I’ll text you later.”
“Okay.”
Reluctantly, I made my way out the door and to my car. Determined that the next opportunity I had I wouldn’t let the moment to tell her how I felt get away.