42. Chapter 42
Chapter 42
Radio Silence…Again.
Violet reluctantly took Lachlan’s advice and stayed home. She slept almost all day and through the following night. Her body must have needed it.
The following day she dragged her butt out of bed. She was not 100 percent, but definitely better. She showered, had a bite of breakfast, and headed to the sanctuary for her shift. She hoped she’d see Lachlan, but he wasn’t there. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d left the morning before, aside from a quick text response to one she’d sent him thanking him again.
The week went by, and she still hadn’t heard anything from Lachlan, nor had she seen him. She had texted him a couple of times but got nothing back. She didn’t want it to sting, but it did. She wondered if he had maybe gone on a business trip, but even so, why wouldn’t he just message her?
Violet headed home Friday from a styling appointment. She’d had an awesome day working on a new wardrobe for one of the few clients she’d kept on.
Once she was home, she decided scotch was in order for her Friday night. It wasn’t as good as the scotch Lachlan had given her at his house and the distillery, but it would suffice.
She went and sat in her quaint back yard. It was late on a mild summer’s night. A thousand stars pricked tiny holes in the clear, dark sky. She sipped her scotch and looked off into the distance at the rolling hills and seaside. God, it was heaven here. She wrapped her lovely new tartan blanket a little tighter around her shoulders. She was glad he’d brought it out for her the other night. She’d maybe been a bit hasty when she’d stashed it away.
Lachlan was on her mind, as per usual. He was a mystery to her. She struggled to know what he wanted with her, if anything at all. In some ways, she felt sure he must be into her and want to see her, but then at the same time, he always seemed careful and reserved. The one night he let loose and gave in to passion seemed like a lifetime ago, almost as if she’d imagined it. Perhaps it was just the excitement of the night, the scotch—the magic in the air.
As much as she was trying to guard her heart from him, he kept breaking down her walls, whether he was trying to or not. She tried to take everything at face value and not read into anything, tried to harden her heart. But he was in it, far more than she felt comfortable with.
She eyed the flowers he’d brought her. Were they meant to say, Thanks for the quickie sex—that was cut woefully short—now let’s just be friends? Oh, what a crazy, passionate night it had been. She had no intention of making out with him, but it was like she was under a spell that night. Who knew? Maybe it was just the magic of the night. She felt aroused just thinking about it. Curse him.
Then less than a week ago, he’d come to her rescue, bringing her medicine and freaking homemade broth and freshly squeezed juice. He’d even stayed the night. She’d felt so taken care of, so safe. He must care for her. But then he dropped off and went quiet, disappearing from her world.
Way too familiar of a scenario. Last time, he’d taken care of her too and then dropped off the face of the earth. Was the same thing happening again? The thought annoyed her. What was his deal? She felt so confused and fed up. But her heart wasn’t ready to give up just yet.