Chapter 21 Violet #2
“Never. You’re my only friend and family, remember?” I smile and rub her arm. “Go have fun with Kane.”
“Fiiine. Want to go watch the Vipers play this weekend? I have premium tickets. Perks of interning as a medical assistant and being the captain’s girlfriend.”
My chest constricts at the reminder of the one player I think of when that team is mentioned. I try to breathe normally, but my ribs ache even as I force a smile.
“You know I’m not a hockey fan.”
“I wasn’t either, but it’s so much fun! Besides, Kane is a badass and an actual hockey god. The entire team is amazing, actually. If a skeptic like me can be converted, so can you.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“All right. I’ll take Megan, then. She’ll be over the moon.” She types into her phone, probably telling her friend and previous roommate about the tickets. “I’ll call you later.”
I nod and hug her as we separate.
I smile as I watch her walking in the opposite direction. At least one of us got her life together.
As a habit I can’t get rid of, I check my surroundings, expecting to see a large man wearing a helmet and gloves and leaning against a bike.
Watching me with disapproving dark-brown eyes.
Eyes that visit me in my sleep on the regular now. In my dreams, they’re harsh and unforgiving, always making me wake up in a cold sweat.
I have no idea why he won’t leave my subconscious.
He’s not there—no longer stalking or tormenting or threatening me. And Mario, whom I’ve been visiting regularly, is still in a coma.
Jude probably got bored, as I expected he would, and moved on to his other targets. Like Kane said, he won’t hurt me.
I haven’t even seen him on campus, and I’m thankful that my social studies building is far away from where he studies business.
And yet…I can’t help but feel ill at ease.
Why, I don’t know.
Theoretically, my life couldn’t get any better than this. I live in a spacious penthouse, my studies are paid for in full, and I work fewer hours than before.
I have more free time that I use to embroider, mostly while visiting Mario.
Dahlia told me she used to talk to him as well, so he wouldn’t feel lonely, so now that I’m back, I go to the hospital on the regular, mostly to keep him company.
But also because I don’t like being alone.
I talk to him sometimes, just to fill the silence.
Due to all that, I’ve ended up with too many handkerchiefs and patches, so I opened a little online shop to sell them, and I’m hoping that if sales are good, I might be able to volunteer at the charity and let someone else have the paid position.
Things have been better than I could ever dream.
Now, if my brain could catch up to those facts, that would be great.
“Hold up, it’s you!”
I come to a halt, or more like I’m forced to stop walking, as a large man stops in front of me. He’s surrounded by two leggy brunettes whose eyes throw daggers in my direction as if I wronged them in a past life.
The tall, muscular guy has styled blond hair, a square jaw, and disturbingly beautiful Caribbean-green eyes. He’s prince-like in his beauty, but also so broad and tall and…a Viper.
He’s wearing the team’s jacket, and I definitely recognize him. Number 13, Armstrong.
Now, I refuse to think that I recognize him because Jude always got into a fight whenever anyone came near Number 13.
I search my surroundings, thinking he’s talking to someone else, but he comes closer, grinning, and, wow, he has deep dimples in his cheeks. They’re adorable.
Though, that’s an oxymoron because I don’t think this guy is anywhere near adorable. He’s dangerous just like all of them, but he somehow seems more approachable.
“Viola, right?” He stops in front of me, and the two girls follow suit, their smiles looking forced at best.
“Violet,” I say. “Do I know you?”
“You haven’t had the pleasure, but I’m Preston! Call me handsome for short.” He shakes my hand even though I didn’t offer it. “Dakota must’ve told you so much about me. I’m kind of a big deal.”
“Who’s Dakota?”
“Uh, your sister?”
“Her name is Dahlia, and she never mentioned you, actually.”
He pauses, almost as if I slapped him, and one of the girls wraps an arm around his. “Come on, Pres. Why are you talking to a nerd?”
He places his index finger on her shoulder and pushes her away, then wipes his finger on her coat. “I told you not to touch me. Leave, now.”
They both freeze, but when he gives them a poker-faced look, they hurry away, gulping, and one of them glares at me.
What did I do?
Preston grins as if he didn’t look downright murderous not two seconds ago. “She must’ve spoken about me, but you forgot.”
“I don’t think so…?”
“I’m Kane’s bestie. Of course she did. Anyway, you really have great skin. What’s the skincare routine secret?”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, right!” He snaps his fingers in front of my face, and I flinch, my shoulders tensing, but then he balls his hand into a fist and places it near his mouth.
“Today, we have a one-of-a-kind witness to Jude’s lackluster performance.
We’ll tell you all why you should vote Preston for the best dick around.
Miss, can you tell us in detail why sex with Jude is disappointing? ”
My mouth hangs open as he places the imaginary mic close to my face. Jude told him about the sex? Can those encounters even be considered sex?
I mean, they technically were, but still. Also, how much does this Preston know?
“Come on.” He steps closer. “Just give me some ammo to crush that big man.”
He’s peering down at me, narrowing his eyes and kind of pushing into my space. My chest tightens and I step back. Pushy men, or those who don’t respect space, hike up my anxiety and trigger memories I covered up and shoved into my metal box that I’m glad Dahlia kept with a few of my belongings.
Those memories start slow, like a spark of electricity through my brain. Preston’s cologne asphyxiates me, and I can feel thick, meaty fingers trying to pull at my skirt, large hands landing on my shoulders, over my breasts.
Our last foster father tried to touch me any chance he got, and even though I pushed him—and got punched—I always feel his meaty hands on me whenever a man touches me threateningly.
Not with Jude, though. The irony.
My shoes catch on the concrete and the spark of discomfort grows and expands. My mouth fills with saliva, and I know I’ll be sick soon.
A large body appears behind Preston.
My heart stutters.
And so does my breathing.
My shaky fingers latch onto my wrist as I stare into those dark eyes, the color of the night. Still as disapproving as ever, still as…hypnotizing.
It’s been months since I last saw Jude Callahan in person.
But seeing him right now is like being hit by an arrow right in the heart. A rush of inexplicable emotions buzz through me, and my limbs are trembling.
Is it anger? Is it all the unsaid things I couldn’t tell him?
Is it something else?
He looks as tall and muscular and intimidating as I remember him. A man who’s able to snap someone in half if he wants to.
A monster.
The man who tried to kill me but changed his mind after he made a deal with Kane, and Mario became collateral damage in his games.
I don’t know what I expect him to say or what I’d reply, but he says nothing.
Just stares.
And I stare back, hoping he sees how much I hate him. That I’ll never forgive him for what he’s done to Mario.
“Oh, big man. It’s Sleeping Beauty, who’s not asleep anymore,” Preston says, completely oblivious to the tension thickening the air.
Jude wraps an arm around his neck from behind, headlocking him, and then drags Preston with him.
“Wait! I still haven’t heard her answer about the disappointing sex. I was going to start a podcast!” Preston tries to fight, but Jude is already taking him away.
He doesn’t look back.
Doesn’t acknowledge me.
As if I’m back to being the wallflower he wouldn’t have noticed if life hadn’t shoved me right in his way.