Chapter 55 Violet
VIOLET
Iknow the Harden brothers have always been royalty around here, but I’m not sure Jagger ever really felt like a king until tonight.
A slew of people line up, each taking their turns to kiss the proverbial ring and congratulate Jagger on his win.
Ford promises to tally up the numbers. Hawke gives his big brother a solid clap on the back and disappears into the fog of people.
Roman stands guard at the edge of the mat, handling the spectators like a seasoned security guard at a rock concert.
And all the while, Jagger’s grip on my fingers never dissipates.
Nope. The man refuses to let me leave his side.
Joke’s on him, though. There's nowhere else I’d rather be.
I’m not sure how much time passes. Whether it’s thirty minutes or two hours, but soon, the line shortens, and my body feels heavier.
It seems all the adrenaline I’ve been running on finally seeped out of me.
Seriously, I’m pretty sure I could sleep for a week.
As I cover my yawn with my free hand, Jagger looks down at me, hooks his arm around my neck, mumbles, “I’ll talk with you later,” to whoever’s congratulating him, then directs me toward June and Lexie.
They claimed a corner earlier, and have clearly set up camp.
Okay, not literally, but Lexie did manage to scrounge up a couple folding chairs, some drinks, and a couple bags of chips.
“You guys stuck around,” I note when we finally reach them.
“I mean, you’re our ride, so…” Lexie rolls her eyes. “Good fight, Jagger,” she adds.
“Thanks, Lex,” he returns. “How’s your brother?”
With a shrug, she looks around the room but doesn’t say anything else.
“Lexie’s going to stay at our place tonight,” June interrupts. “You okay with that, Vi?”
“He probably needs some time to calm down, you know?” Lexie explains. “I figure the, uh, the wider the berth, the better.”
I nod. “Yeah, for sure. That makes sense.” Peeking up at Jagger, I add, “Why don’t you take my bed, Lex? I’ll, uh, I’ll stay at Jagger’s. You know, if it’s okay with you?”
His sweaty arm stays wrapped around my neck as he bends down and kisses the crown of my head. “Don’t even need to ask.”
I soak up the warmth of his body and his words. God, I love this man. So. Damn. Much. My lips curve up in contentment as I dig out my car keys and hand them to Lexie. “Here. I’ll catch a ride with Jagger.”
“Sounds good.” Stealing me from Jagger’s hold, Lexie pulls me into a hug, then lets me go.
Her expression changes into something more…
I don’t know. Somber, I guess? I’m not sure.
I’ve never really seen it on her. “One more thing.” She peers up at Jagger.
“Just…be careful, okay? My brother’s a good guy, but…
even though he doesn’t really ever tell me anything, I’m pretty sure he had a lot riding on this fight, and, uh, since it didn’t pan out the way he was expecting.
..” She twists her fingers in front of her.
“Just be careful,” she repeats. “I think it’s going to take him some time to let it go or whatever, and… yeah.”
Jagger’s chin dips in acknowledgement. “You, too.”
She rolls her eyes again. “I’m always careful.” Glancing at my roommate, she adds, “Come on, June. We should get going.”
I pull my friends in for one more group hug, then wave goodbye to them before Jagger leads me to his truck, and we climb inside.
Once the door is closed, and we’re finally alone, I study his profile in the moonlight shining in through the windshield.
He looks…like he had the crap kicked out of him.
Swollen eye. Busted lip. Sliced eyebrow.
Mottled skin. My heart clenches in response.
It all happened so fast, the tape is still wrapped around his knuckles.
Reaching for his hand, I slowly unwrap it, careful not to rush the process or cause any more damage to his sore hands.
I wish there was more I could do. I wish I could erase the damage from the fight as easily as I can remove the tape.
But the truth is, he’ll be sporting these wounds for at least a couple weeks, and I hate that I’m one of the reasons they’re there in the first place.
I can feel him watching me as I slowly unwrap the tape. He’s so quiet. No words. Nothing but our steady breathing and the light of the moon. No engine. No crowds. No fluorescent lights. Only me and Jagger. It’s strangely…intimate.
“How did you know?” he finally rasps.
I peek up at him through my lashes. “You mean, why did it take me so long?” My lips lift. “You wouldn’t let me make a bet. You were willing to let your brothers lose money. And you to lose money,” I add. “But not me.” The familiar ache from earlier hits the back of my eyes, but I will it away.
“Figured you’d already lost enough,” he returns.
I wad up the used tape, set it in the cup holder, and place my hands in my lap. “I’m not getting my house back, am I.”
It isn’t a question. And honestly, I’m not sad about it, either.
Okay, that’s a lie. I’m sad. Anyone would be sad.
Not only was the house the keeper of memories.
It was also my safety net and the last thing my mom ever gave me.
I’d have to be heartless not to be sad. But I’m also…
relieved. Because even though I loved the house until my dad tainted it, it was also the only ammunition he could use against me.
And now? Now, it’s…over. I don’t have any ties to Virgil Reeves.
Not anymore. And that? Is cleansing as hell.
“I’m sorry, Little Thief,” Jagger murmurs.
I shake my head. “Don’t be.” With a shy smile, I say, “I’m proud of you, Jag.
” The cab feels too big. Too cavernous. Shifting closer, I cup the side of his face, letting the prickles of his five-o’clock shadow tickle my palm as I hold his gaze, praying he can feel my sincerity. “I’m so freaking proud of you.”
His eyes close, and he leans into my hand. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” I volley. “For not being too stubborn.”
Surprise flickers in his eyes when he opens them and looks at me. “What do you mean?”
Is he serious right now?
With a smile, I explain. “You could’ve sacrificed everything for me in there, Jagger.
It could’ve ruined you. And even though I know you were willing to do it, the fact that you let me…
”—I run my thumb along his strong jaw—“that you let me change your mind in that moment, it…” I push aside the kaleidoscope of possibilities. “It means more than you know.”
“I’d do anything for you, Vi.”
“I know you would. But I also know how hard it is for you to let me do anything for you,” I say, turning the tables. “It’s only a house. But you?” I shift even closer. “You’re my home.”
The callouses on his palms tickle my skin as he slides his fingers along the nape of my neck.
Tugging me into him, he kisses me. Hard.
So hard, I have no doubt his split lip will probably start bleeding again, but I welcome it.
The kiss. The way it brands me. Marks me. Reminds me I’m his and he’s mine.
Buzzing cuts us off, and Jagger groans his annoyance. Shifting in the seat, he pulls out his cell and answers the call. “Yeah?”
Pause.
“Yeah, I’m still here. I’m in the truck.”
Pause.
Jagger frowns and leans forward, looking out the windshield, so I do the same. Who’s he talking to? Then I notice him. Roman’s jogging through the mostly empty parking lot, his focus shifting from left to right as he makes his way toward us.
“Did you forget something?” I ask.
Jagger shakes his head in response.
Ending the call, he turns on the car, then rolls down the driver’s side window. “Hey, what’s up?”
Unwinded, Roman stops on Jagger’s side. “We need to talk.”
“Okay?”
He lifts his cell. “Got a call.”
“What kind of call?” Jagger questions.
Roman’s attention drifts to me before returning to Jagger with a severity I swear I can feel in my bones. Whoever’s behind this call must be shady as hell because it’s clear Roman doesn’t want me to hear them discussing him.
“What kind of call?” Jagger repeats, and I can’t help but wonder if he already knows.
Maybe it’s the way he says it. With a heaviness and a hint of resignation.
Maybe it’s the way he blindly reaches for me in the passenger seat, his hand finding my thigh as I shift on the cool leather.
Whatever it is, he’s officially on alert, somehow tapping into whatever reserves of adrenaline his body has managed to keep on hand despite tonight’s brawl.
Giving in, Roman sighs. “Gus wants to meet.”
Jagger’s body turns rigid beside me. It leaves me cold. On edge. Though I have no idea why.
“W-who’s Gus?” I ask.
Jagger hangs his head but doesn’t answer me. Instead, he squeezes my thigh. Not in anger. In warning. Like the name alone holds the power of the boogeyman or something.
Ooookay, then?
My breathing feels stilted, but I keep my mouth shut, refusing to ask him for any kind of clarification. Not again. Not when it’s clear whoever Gus is, he isn’t a saint.
“Fuck,” Jagger mutters under his breath. He looks up at Roman standing at the window. “When?”
“Now,” Roman answers.
My eyes widen. Gus wants to meet now? Talk about trying to swing your dick around.
I don’t care who this guy is, there’s no way Jagger is ready to meet someone.
Not with a clear head, anyway. Between the fight, the emotional rollercoaster we’ve both been on, and the fact that it’s easily past midnight, Jagger has to be exhausted.
I know I am. I peek at my boyfriend beside me, waiting for him to speak up for himself and tell Roman to reschedule or something. Instead, he stays quiet.
With a slow nod, Jagger turns to me and presses his lips to my forehead. “Take my truck, okay? I’m going to catch a ride with Roman. I’ll meet you at home after.”
Home. The irony of the sentiment isn’t lost on me.
He reaches for the driver’s side handle, but I grab his arm, halting his departure.
“Jag.”
“Yeah, Vi?”
There are so many things I want to say. So many questions I want to ask. But the thing is, none of them really matter. Not in this moment. The only thing I really need to know is one thing.
“Tell me you’re good,” I say.
“I’m good.”
“Jagger,” I warn.
“Gus is, uh,” he sighs. “Gus is The Drift’s landlord. We pay him rent to use the facilities.”
Pay him rent to use the facilities? What the hell is Jagger talking about?
“Okay?” I press my lips together, fighting not to state the obvious. Paying rent doesn’t usually warrant the kind of visceral reaction Jagger had as soon as Roman mentioned Gus’s name. But what do I know? “So, maybe he just wants rent for tonight? Right?” I offer.
Jagger glances at Roman again before plucking off my hold with his free hand and kissing my fingers. “Right.” His touch disappears as he climbs out of the truck and stands to his full height. “Go home and go to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”
Panic rises inside of me. “Will you?”
His gaze softens. “I promise.”
I want to believe him. Man, do I want to believe him. The trouble is, I’m pretty sure he has no idea what’s going to happen tonight. But will it do him any good to be worrying about me while he’s meeting with Gus? Probably not.
With a tense smile, I give him a nod, even as I’m dying inside. “Okay.” I swallow, thickly. “I love you.”
“Love you, Vi.”
Then, he walks away.