Chapter 38 Violet
VIOLET
The crunch of gravel reaches me first, and my fingers pause around the embroidery before I let it drop on the small couch.
I pull the curtain back and look out the window and see Dahlia hopping out of the car, juggling a box.
Two distinct emotions go through me: bitter relief and crushing disappointment.
I’m the one who ran away a week ago, but every time Dahlia comes over—three times in a week because she worries too much—I’m hit with a sense of paralyzing anticipation and dread.
The hope that it might be someone else.
Even after I wrote the safe word and had to wipe my tears so he wouldn’t see them on the paper.
God, I miss him. So much.
I feel hollow without him.
I stand up and head to the door.
The place I asked Lawrence to get for me is one of his unmapped safe houses and is only an hour away from Graystone Ridge in a forgotten, less affluent town.
According to Lawrence, Jude won’t search for me this close and will assume I’ve changed coasts.
The wood creaks under my steps as I walk to the door, and the scent of stale wood and untouched air fills the space. Everything here is still, and the deep quiet presses against my ears. The walls are a soft, muted gray, and it should feel welcoming, but it doesn’t.
The living room is sparsely furnished—a beige couch, a wooden coffee table, and a lamp I barely turn on.
The hardwood floor is cool under my socked feet as I move through the space, taking in the kitchen’s untouched countertops, the fridge stocked with food that I forget to eat, the sink that’s empty because I don’t make meals worth dirtying dishes for.
I’ve lost the will to cook when there’s no one to enjoy those meals with me.
As I open the door, I can see the lingering remnants of winter clinging to the world, patches of old snow melting into the damp earth, the trees still skeletal, waiting for spring to bring them back to life.
Everything is waiting.
Maybe including me.
“Viii!” Dahlia drops the box on the porch and hugs me. “Ugh, I’ve missed you so much.”
“You were here two days ago.”
“I still miss you.” She pouts. “This sucks. I suggested we ban Jude instead of you, and Kane just gave me a very unamused look.”
My heart thuds at the mention of his name, but I swallow. “No one banned me. I just chose to leave, Dahl.”
“I know, I know.” She pulls away and grabs the box of my stuff that I asked her to bring me.
When I try to help, she jokingly kicks me before she steps inside and puts it on the counter.
Before I close the door, I cast a glance in the distance as if expecting—or maybe hoping—to see the familiar black motorcycle I’ve been seeing in my dreams lately.
Or, more accurately, nightmares. Ones that end with Jude’s blood all over that motorcycle.
For the first time, I wish for Mama’s demon back on my chest. Anything is better than those ominous images.
I make Dahlia some coffee, and we sink into the couch. Neither of us is comfortable. This house doesn’t feel like home.
It doesn’t feel like anything at all.
“Are you lonely, Vi?” she asks softly.
“I’m fine. I might have to repeat this year at the new college I’ll enroll in, but I’ve been having so much fun with embroidering.”
“Liar. You’ve been working on that piece for the whole week. And you’re not eating properly. Don’t think I didn’t see all the food you didn’t touch in the fridge. You can’t survive on just ginger ale.”
“I’ll take that as a challenge.” I grin, trying to ease the mood.
“I’m not joking.” She frowns. “I’m truly worried about you. I don’t know what the hell you saw in that brute Jude, but I prefer the constant smile on your face when you were with him to these sad smiles.”
My lips press into a line. “That’s not possible.”
“Why not? You’re the one who left, so you can come back. Besides, he’s been going berserk this past week. Honestly, Vi. Kane said losing you and Preston is messing Jude up big time.”
“I’m the reason he lost Preston.”
“Oh my God. Is that why you left?”
“He was going on killing sprees again because of me.” I touch my tattoo. “I’ve seen him murderous to avenge his mother, and I know it killed something inside him. I don’t…want to be Susie Callahan 2.0. I don’t want to be the reason for his eventual decimation down the road of no return.”
“Okay, I get it. But those guys have been killing since they were young and will probably continue to do so for the rest of their lives. Do you think I like that Kane does it? Of course not. And I was a bit apprehensive at the start, but that’s just a part of who he is that I have to compromise with.
Because I love him, and I know he loves me and would kill to protect me.
Already has, actually. Maybe Jude feels the same.
Killing to protect you could be his love language.
Do you think you’ll never get past that? ”
“It’s not really that.” I release a long exhale, my chest aching. “It’s that I was the reason he lost both Mario and Preston. What if next time, he’s the one getting killed?”
“Oh, Vi.” Dahlia takes my hand in hers, and I realize a tear has fallen down my cheek.
I wipe it with the back of my arm. “I’m being ridiculous.”
“No, you’re not. Your feelings are valid. But you shouldn’t feel guilty that you survived, Vi. You’ve always been a survivor and the strongest woman I know.”
“Please. That’s you.”
“No. It’s you. I had loving parents, but you didn’t, and you didn’t let that bring you down.
You silently picked yourself up and moved forward.
Whenever things got too hard, you didn’t just lie down and take it.
You always got up and found a solution to move past the hurdle and even tried to find solutions to other people’s problems, too.
You inspired me to be better and improve every day, and I’m telling you right now, I wouldn’t have become the person I am today if you weren’t in my life, Vi.
The same applies to Laura and everyone in the communities we used to live in.
So don’t ever think your life is worth less than anyone else’s, or I’ll be super mad. ”
I laugh to hide the tears welling in my eyes. “You made me emotional.”
“Good. You deserve a reality check.” She grins. “Also, I know the whole Armstrong thing is making you uncomfortable, but I heard Jude tell Kane he’ll never allow them to force you into the family.”
“He…did?”
“Yup. I think he even asked his dad for help.”
“Impossible. He hates his dad.”
“Well, he obviously put that hatred aside for you.” She bites her lower lip.
“I really don’t want to paint him in a good light, considering the stalking and the coma, but I found out a few things from Kane yesterday.
He probably wanted me to influence you to come back. No, he was clearly aiming for that.”
I sit up straighter. “What things?”
She releases a long sigh and takes a sip of her coffee.
“Apparently, Jude is the one who bought you the apartment and paid for your college tuition. He asked Kane to take credit because you wouldn’t have taken them if you knew they were from him.
But if they were camouflaged as something Kane did for his girlfriend’s sister, then you were more likely to accept them. ”
“He did that?”
“Yeah, annoying, I know. He’s also the one who found you the therapist, because she’s a big shot and doesn’t take on just anyone, and he procured the apartment we ‘accidentally’ found in Stantonville for a bargain price.
Apparently, he didn’t like us—or, more accurately, you—living in that creepy guy’s attic, so he had to make up the whole business about an old person dying.
He actually offered the guy a price that was higher than the market price just so he’d move out immediately.
Kane was onboard with the plan, obviously.
” She rolls her eyes. “Also, Jude is the biggest buyer from your online shop. The one who tips a lot?”
“UnderTheUmbrella?”
“Yeah, that one. Kane said he did that because you have too much pride and wouldn’t have accepted his money outright.”
“What an idiot,” I whisper through a scoff.
Bastard.
He did all of that while he was ignoring me after the coma—when I thought he was finally done tormenting me.
In reality, Jude saw how I lived, hated it, and decided to give me a new life.
A new start.
A way to accept myself, even if the methods were sketchy as hell.
And now, I don’t know what to do with all of this information.
After Dahlia leaves, I’m still snuggled on the couch, going through all of Jude’s purchases in my online shop, particularly the custom pieces he paid a lot of money for.
A blue umbrella patch, another one embroidered on a shirt, and a third on a pillowcase.
I read through our conversation after he sent me a thank-you tip upon receiving the pillowcase.
Me
Thank you so much for all your generosity. I don’t know if my embroidery deserves this much.
UnderTheUmbrella
It does. Don’t underestimate your work and your passion.
I needed that, truly. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need any other custom pieces.
What else can a blue umbrella embroidery be put on?
Tablecloths, napkins, jackets, tote bags, etc. The options are endless.
We’ll do those, then, and anything else you can think of.
Oh, absolutely, and thank you! The umbrella must mean so much to you.
It does.
A knock comes at the door, and I startle, letting my phone fall to the couch. Then I go to open it. “Did you forget something, Dahl—”
My words get stuck in my throat when I lay eyes on a tall man blocking my entrance who’s definitely not Dahlia.
Jude.
I almost don’t recognize him at first.
His broad frame casts a shadow over the dim porch light. He looks different—rougher, more worn down—but the same dangerous gleam lurks in his demeanor.
There’s a tension in the way he holds himself, shoulders bunched, muscles tight beneath his black leather jacket, as if he’s carrying something heavy and refusing to let it show.