Chapter 15 Violet
FIFTEEN
VIOLET
SEPTEMBER | COLUMBUS, OHIO
I unlocked the door to my apartment with Colton’s hand ghosting over my lower back. He looked too big for the space: the stairs, the hallway, the faded orangey light coming from the outdated wall sconce.
“Okay, welcome to my humble abode.” I swung the door open and tried to see my apartment through his eyes.
A dish left by the sink from breakfast. Fruit in the bowl that might need to be gone through.
Plants that needed dusting and watering.
Shit, what was in my fridge? A container of cottage cheese?
“It’s very you.”
He was being polite. All I could see were indicators of my garbled mental state. “Hey, you don’t have to stay. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Vi—”
“No, you’ve got your preseason or something, right?”
“Vi-o-let.” Warm hands landed on my shoulders. “I’m happy to be here.”
“But you’ve got stuff.”
He chuckled. “I can promise you that the preseason is not that important for me. I think I’ve got a spot on the team. I don’t think they’d send the captain to the AHL.”
I wiggled my shoulders. “Oh, aren’t you hot stuff?”
“Shut up,” he said, giving me a little shove.
“Well. Make yourself at home. I’m going to get ready for bed. Do you want to pick a movie or something?”
How else do you pass the time with your ex-boyfriend who’s sleeping at your place?
He grinned and rubbed his hands together. “I’ve got the perfect one. Just point me to your remote.”
“Why did I agree to watch this?” I wept. “I was trying to get cheered up and you picked Inside Out?”
“What? It normalizes feelings!” Colt sat in the corner of the couch, his arm extended across the back to invite me to sit with him. “Are you really going to sit all the way over there and not let me console you?”
I pressed a tissue under my lashes. “Is that why we’re watching this? So you can ‘console’ me?” I gestured to the screen. “You knew I wouldn’t be able to take this. The movie hasn’t even started and these fucking volcanoes have lava spilling down my face!”
My fingers met the swelling around my eyes and I lamented how bad I was going to look at work, no matter what abandoned face masks I could dig out of a drawer.
My tired eyes focused on the screen again.
It was some cartoon short where the volcanoes kept growing and changing and crying out for each other, but their partner wasn’t there.
If I thought about the symbolism, I could have easily vomited.
“They’re just lonely, Vi. The volcanoes.”
“Exactly. He’s lonely. She’s just there longing for him. She’s lonely too.”
“Yeah. That’s what I said,” he said. “They’re lonely. It’s a movie, though, and they’re going to have a happy ending.”
“I know, okay?” I whimpered, the emotions turning from light ribbing to actual angst. “I know they’re just waiting for each other.”
The cartoon volcanoes were waiting for each other. Once upon a time, Colton promised to wait for me. Or rather, he said if he decided to wait for me, it’d be his choice. I had no idea whether he actually did that or not. He could easily have a girlfriend he hadn’t mentioned yet.
If I were his girlfriend and he were feeding other girls Wendy’s and giving out forehead kisses, I’d be more than a little peeved.
I glanced over at him, having worked myself into a mental fit. There he sat with soft eyes and a serene smile, seemingly unbothered. He was so nice to me. He could have a girlfriend. But even if I didn’t deserve it, I wanted him to have waited for me.
With a pathetic sniff and a full-on blubber, I cried harder when the volcanoes started up their song again.
Colton didn’t wait for me to scoot over to him.
He came to me, putting his arm around my shoulder and stroking my hair.
He gently shushed me when I got louder. I sat up and turned to face him, holding his hands.
“I’m so sorry, Colt. For everything. I’m sorry I hurt you.
Twice. And if you stick around, I’ll probably do it again because I’m messed up and I don’t know how to deal with you. I don’t know how to just . . .”
His hands were firm on mine, his gaze, his voice. “I’m not mad at you.”
“But I keep hurting you. That’s worse than you being mad. You’d be right to be mad.”
He licked his lips and looked between us. “I’m not mad. But I am a little hurt you’ve been here so long and said nothing. That you never called me after the wedding.”
My cheeks burned and I nodded. “I know. But it’s something I needed to work out on my own.”
“I would have been there for you, Vi.”
“It’s not your cross to bear,” I said.
“It shouldn’t be yours either.” Colton chewed the inside of his lip. “We lost years, Violet. Because you didn’t trust me. I would have sat beside you while you worked through it. ”
“It’s not you I didn’t trust. It was myself. I was afraid of falling apart and ruining everything. For me. For you.”
Colt nodded, going quiet. We sat in a tense silence, watching the volcanoes gear up for their big finale. He intertwined our fingers and flicked his chin toward the screen. “Look. The volcanoes are happy. It all worked out.”
And that was Colton Jones. A man who had faith in happy endings, no matter how tough the journey. A man who believed in the best in everyone, even when they weren’t the best to him.
A man, it seemed, who believed in me.
He opened his arms, and I slouched back into them.
“This isn’t a movie, Colton. Happily ever after isn’t guaranteed.”
He paused and swallowed, then kissed the top of my head. “I’ve learned if you wait long enough, there’s always a happily ever after.”
I woke up in Colton’s arms on the couch, the movie menu on the TV. When I started to stir, his arms banded tighter around me and he let out a sleepy hum.
What was I doing? I fell right back into my ex’s arms when I was sad.
And yet, it felt good. Way too good. He was still soundly asleep, and though the clock above the TV said I needed to get up, I took advantage of the moment. I studied him. I used to know every inch of his skin. Eleven years ago. Eleven years older and wiser. Eleven years more battle worn.
Eleven years stronger. Eleven years, and he was back.
The sweet Cupid’s bow over his thinner upper lip.
Half a day’s stubble. Rain-ruined tousled hair that, of course, just worked for him.
Soft puffs of air from his nose, the end of which I used to love to boop or press like a button when he was being stupid.
“Violet, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had a crush on me.”
I jumped and his sleepy chuckle stirred up delicious things inside me. I slapped his chest and shifted to get up. “Open your eyes, you psycho.”
His arms tightened around me to keep me down. “Maybe you should close yours and go back to sleep.”
“I have to go to work,” I squealed.
The more I resisted, the tighter his hold. “Work, schmerk. Stay here.”
I threw my leg over his hip to try and win our wrestling match, but he used it as an opportunity to trap me, eyes fully open now. His knees were on the inside of mine, his calves holding my shins down. Each of his hands pinned my wrists to the couch cushion below me.
“Hey.” The word was gruff but sweet. His eyes flicked between mine and to my lips. And that’s when I felt It. Him. All however many inches of him. After all this time.
It could feel so good. Giving in. Letting his lips drop to my neck, down my chest. Lower still, his mouth languid, tongue fervent. Those hands, the hands that knew just how to touch me.
My breath hitched and I could swear his pupils dilated. Could he feel it? My nipples hardening against his chest?
“I need to get ready for work.”
That seemed to snap him out of it. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”
He climbed to his hands and knees and scooted back to the corner of the couch. Then he offered a hand to help me up, but all I could see was It, just staring back at me. He winced and looked at his lap. “You know how it goes. Ignore him. I didn’t mean to.”
“Yep. Um, help yourself to whatever food. I’ll just take the late bus.” I shuffled off down the hallway. Just before I closed my bedroom door, he spoke.
“Like I’m not driving you.”
I sat in Colt’s passenger seat all prim and proper, my work bag in my lap and my hands folded on top of it. I held an apple in my hand, my intended breakfast. Which, of course, he had grumbled about. Need to eat more and take care of yourself and you’re going to make me threats.
Nothing I hadn’t heard from him before. We approached the door to my work building. “‘Kay. Thanks for the ride. And everything. All the things.”
Colton’s mouth was very busy: chewing his lip, licking it, clicking his tongue, sucking his teeth.
“Last night was tough. We did some hard stuff. Everything’s been so intense the last few times we’ve seen each other.
Maybe we should just . . . go out? Have fun together?
Do date stuff like normal people who aren’t wounded or traumatized? ”
I chuckled. “I don’t know anyone like that. Who is living trauma-free out there? I want names.”
“So you can traumatize them?” Colt laughed.
I shrugged. “Gotta even the scales somehow.”
There was a pause, and Colt’s voice was quiet. “What do you say? Go out with me? Get to know me not on vacation or in emergency mode?”
My eyes scanned his dashboard. Of course I wanted him.
I wanted to stay on that couch and let him have his way with me.
I wanted to be the kind of person who could comfortably let him have his way with me.
I wanted to be the freak he deserved, the person worth waiting for.
I wanted to know I wouldn’t run at the slightest scare.
But was I really that person for him? Was I ready to be that person? Since the answer wasn’t an immediate yes, it had to be no.
I cleared my throat. “I want to hang out, like these alleged normal people do. I just think with everything I’m working through right now, I need a good friend.”
He coughed and his voice came out low and even, like a newscaster. “Yeah. Totally. A friend date. That’s what I meant. A hangout. Ya know. Dinner and beers and just like stuff I’d do with the guys.”
I don’t know if it’s medically possible, but I’m pretty sure my heart stopped beating at that moment.
Did I want to be one of the guys? No. Would I have to be one of the guys until I was sure I wouldn’t ruin his life and be the source of his downfall?
Yes. So a friend date it would be. “Right. Yeah. A friend date. Just, uh, send me some times you’re free. ”
“Yep. And, oh yeah, a rookie named Owen is going to contact you and bring you your car keys. Or, uh, I think his real name is Garner, but we already have an Austin Garner, so he’s Owen.”
I bugged my eyes at him. Hockey names only ever made 30% of sense at best.
“Anyway,” he went on. “He’s going to get your car. It’ll probably be early afternoon after our practice.”
I reached over and ruffled his hair. “Making the rookies do your bidding, huh? Some captain you are.”
He finally softened with a smile. “Gotta earn their stripes somehow. May as well make them work for it. They’d prefer this over running the arena steps.”
“Alright, well. Thanks again. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
I shouldn’t have looked back. I knew it was a bad idea. But when I hit the doors and tapped my badge to get in, I looked over my shoulder.
And there was Colton, looking like the puppy I left behind in the pet shop window.