Chapter Two
Violet
Present
THE CHATTER OF other patrons fills the coffee shop as I sit in the corner with my best friend.
I love it here.
Nothing beats starting the morning with her, catching up as the scent of brewed coffee and sweet syrups floats around us.
“Damon’s going to be in town this week.” Alyssa’s declaration catches me off guard.
I haven’t seen her brother since he graduated and moved away from Ridgewater eight years ago.
I don’t even know where he’s been or what he’s been doing all this time.
We used to be close, but then he left. I’m sure seeing him again would be nothing but awkward.
“Oh, that’s nice.” I’m not sure what else to say.
“We’re meeting for lunch tomorrow, if you wanted to join us? I’m sure he’d love to see you,” she tells me before taking a sip of her macchiato.
“That’s okay, I have work to catch up on, deadlines to meet, you know.
” I’m not actually behind on anything, but I can’t tell her that there’s no way in hell Aaron would let me see Damon, even in as casual of a setting as lunch with his sister.
He knows about the crush I had on Damon, how close we were before he left, and he’s told me before that I’m not allowed to see him if he ever came back to visit.
I’m surprised I’m even allowed to see Alyssa.
“Well, he’ll be in town for a while. Maybe we can all get together at some point?” She looks at me hopefully.
I know how much she loved that we all got along in high school and were able to spend time together.
I miss it, too, and I am curious about what Damon’s been up to, what sort of man he’s become.
But I’ve been in enough trouble with Aaron lately, and I don’t want to give him any more reason to be mad at me.
“Yeah, maybe. I’ll see if I can make it work,” I lie.
Alyssa eyes me like she doesn’t believe me. “Why don’t you want to see him? You guys were so close. I honestly thought you’d end up together. How cool would it have been to be sisters?”
I give her a playful side-eye. “We’re practically sisters anyway.”
She chuckles. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“Besides, I’m with Aaron, and I’m . . . happy.” I hope she doesn’t catch the hesitation.
I am happy . . . I think. Aaron is a great boyfriend.
He takes care of me, pays for our big apartment, buys me nice things just because.
He insists I don’t have to work, but I like reporting for the local paper too much not to.
And yeah, occasionally we fight, and he likes to know where I am and who I’m with, but I get it.
All couples fight. And wanting to know where the person you love is isn’t that unusual.
“Anyway, I have to get going,” I tell her. “I want to do some prereporting on the fair in case the chief assigns me to it. I hope he does. We’re still going to try to go together, right?”
“Yes! I can go any night, just let me know.” While Halloween isn’t my favorite holiday, I know Alyssa loves all things spooky and is ecstatic about the Carnival of Devils that’s in town for the next few weeks.
They travel around the country with different rides, haunted attractions, and costumed actors who wander around scaring the guests.
“Sounds good! I’ll text you later. Love you,” I tell her as we get up to leave.
“Love you, too, Vi.”
· · ·
Back at my apartment that I share with Aaron, I open the front door and find him on the couch, wearing the sweatpants he slept in and playing video games.
“Hey,” I greet him, walking over and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
He grunts in response, not bothering to pause his game or even take his eyes off the screen.
No, Hey, babe, how was coffee? How’s your best friend doing?
I try not to let it bother me. Aaron has never really been the kind of boyfriend to ask about my friends.
“I was thinking about making some grilled cheese and soup for lunch. Did you want some?” I offer.
“Nope.”
“Okay, well did you want to watch a movie or something together after I eat? A nice relaxing Sunday.” I try again to get my boyfriend to give me even an ounce of his attention.
Sometimes I wonder why we’re still together. If he even likes me anymore. Are we even really together at this point, or just coexisting? It feels like Aaron only acknowledges me when he’s horny or is critiquing something I’m doing.
“I’m already relaxing, can you just fuck off?” he snaps at me.
I flinch at his harsh tone. “Okay, sorry,” I apologize and go into the kitchen to make my lunch.
As I’m eating, I pull up a show on my laptop at the kitchen table.
“Can you turn that shit off? It’s annoying to hear and it’s draining the internet. My game’s lagging.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize,” I say as I close my laptop.
“Don’t be sorry, just stop being so fucking annoying.”
I don’t try to say anything else to him. When Aaron’s in a mood like this, it’s best to just keep quiet and out of the way, otherwise he’ll start a fight over nothing.
After I finish eating, in silence, I set my dishes in the sink and retreat to the bedroom. I’ll get some reading done while he games for the rest of the day.
A few hours later, I hear a pan crash into the sink.
“Violet!” Aaron yells.
I walk out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. “What’s up?” I ask.
“Don’t fucking ‘what’s up?’ me.” He points at the sink. “What the fuck is this?”
“Um . . . dirty dishes?” I left them there after I ate because I knew the sound of me washing them would annoy him.
“Why the fuck would you leave these here? Do I look like a goddamn housekeeper to you?” he seethes.
I want to comment that I’m the one who gets treated like a housekeeper in this relationship, despite the fact that I have a full-time job, while he lives off his trust fund and only has to run occasional errands for his father.
But I don’t.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “I was going to wash them when you were finished with your game so I didn’t bother you.”
His eyes spark with anger. “Don’t try to blame this shit on me. Just because you’re too lazy—”
“I wasn’t being lazy, I—”
My face stings, my eyes burning with tears, before I register the smack of his palm against my cheek. He hit me.
He hit me.
Aaron’s always had a bit of a temper, and his words have been cruel at times, but he’s never laid a hand on me like this.
I bring my fingers to my cheek as he continues to berate me.
“If I wanted a fucking excuse, I would have asked for one. Now get this shit cleaned up.” He storms to the bedroom and slams the door closed.
I sniffle back tears and get to work cleaning up my mess.
My cheek stings as I wonder what I should do. I should probably wait for him to calm down and then try to talk about it with him. Maybe tomorrow he’ll be in a better mood.
Maybe he’s just stressed about something. That could be part of the reason our relationship has felt so strained recently.
When he comes back out of the room, he’s dressed like he’s going out. “I’m going downtown with the guys. I’ll see you later,” he tells me.
I turn toward him and lean against the sink, wrapping my arms around myself. “Okay.”
His jaw clenches, but he just gives me a tight nod. “And I want you in a better mood when I get back. Or else I’ll find a girl who is.” Then he just leaves. No apology. Not even an acknowledgment of what he did.
Hours later, after I’ve cleaned the whole apartment and made myself dinner, he still isn’t home.
He must be staying at one of the guys’ houses tonight.
Or maybe he met a girl and is staying at her place.
It probably wouldn’t be the first time, and honestly, I’m not even sure if I care enough about this relationship anymore for it to bother me.