Chapter 2 – Lee
Violet settled me on the couch in my office with my laptop and an ice pack before leaving to get her things. My ankle ached, but that was nothing compared to the discomfort of having her in my space. Touching me.
I shifted, settling the ice pack more firmly inside my boot. Where I really needed it was my lap, but Vi would have questions if she came back and spotted me cooling my dick.
She had no idea what she did to me. It was awkward. And a habit I was trying to break. She treated me like furniture half the time. Like another one of her brothers – which made my reaction to her border on creepy.
Meeting the half-my-age-and-seven rule a few years ago wouldn’t matter to Drew and Zach. Violet was their baby sister at any age. But I’d stopped picturing her in pigtails years ago.
At nearly thirty, she’d gained the maturity of adulthood. It tempered her naturally bubbly personality just enough that I didn’t feel like I was crushing a butterfly when my Oscar the Grouch side came out.
Some days, just her broad smile was enough to bring me out of a funk.
She didn’t have the Fenwick dimples, but the way pleasure bloomed across her lips, rounding her cheeks and deepening the creases around her chocolate brown eyes still melted something inside me.
Pair that with her soft dark hair and curvy body, and it was no wonder I was in danger of destroying my longest friendships for her.
Mostly, we hung out at her place with her brothers.
It made it easy to remember she was off-limits.
Violet’s tiny house perched at the top of Nichols Street had become the social hub for our friend group.
She was a natural hostess, easily cooking up feasts with her roommate of the moment.
Charming like a fairytale princess and just as unobtainable.
I was a natural hermit. And apparently, a fucking cliché. Captivated by my friend’s little sister, even though we couldn’t be more different.
I scowled down at my laptop. Focusing on the words on the screen was nearly impossible between the throbbing in my leg and the throbbing in … other places. Violet Fenwick was going to be sleeping in my bed. Eating in my kitchen. Taking care of me. It was a dream come true and my worst nightmare.
My phone buzzed.
Zach: They get you patched up at the hospital?
Lee: Yes. No running for a while.
Zach: Damn. Sorry.
Zach: Don’t worry. I gave that rock a swift kick in solidarity.
Classic Zach – the same guy who once helped me fill a teenage boy’s truck with manure for daring to date Violet.
Hell, I’d been the one shoveling right beside him.
I knew exactly what they did to men who went sniffing around their sister.
The fact that we were in our thirties now didn’t really change things.
They were still protective. And Violet was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.
Suffering through her gentle care might finish off the last of my good intentions.
Zach: Need me to pick up a prescription or anything?
Lee: Nope. Vi has it covered.
Zach: Brave man.
Brave for letting her sweep in and run the show, fussing over me? Or brave for letting her within arm’s reach when I already wanted her too much. Either way, he wasn’t wrong.
Writing would be my only salvation. I wouldn’t have running to cleanse the tension. No SAR calls to distract me. Just getting my word count goals met and Violet. 24x7. In other circumstances, it might be heaven. Like if she were an only child.
Being forced to focus on writing would make my editor happy, at least. If I couldn’t go haring off to search for missing hikers or rappel down a cliffside, then I had no excuse not to get my latest draft done.
Thank god my books sold. Finding out you had an affinity for planning murders was only helpful in a few very narrow circumstances. At least the childhood pranks I planned with the Fenwicks became useful life skills. I stretched, spine popping, before turning back to my keyboard.
Like some sixth sense told her I was contemplating trouble, my phone rang, Mom on the caller ID.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Why did I get a text from Monica at the clinic that you’re hurt and not a call from you?”
Apparently no one on this island had ever looked up the word “privacy” in the dictionary. Or read the damn policy paperwork they made every patient sign. My parents didn’t even live on San Juan anymore, yet somehow the gossip grapevine worked just fine.
“It’s a minor sprain.”
“Do you need me to come take care of you? Or better yet – take the ferry. I’ll pick you up, and you can stay with your dad and me for a few weeks. We never get to see you.”
A shudder racked my body. Thankfully, we weren’t on a video call. I didn’t want to hurt my mother’s feelings, but staying with her and Dad wouldn’t exactly be restful. The TV volume alone would be enough to drive me nuts.
“That’s a sweet offer, Mom, but I’ve got it covered.” For the first time, I was relieved by my predicament with Violet. It wasn’t ideal, but I was strong enough to resist temptation.
“Are you just saying that, Lee? Because if I can get a concerned text about your injury within hours of it happening, your chances of lying to me about this are slim and none.”
“Vi offered to stay and help me,” I ground out.
I wasn’t sure what I expected, but my mom’s laughter burst through the line like a punch to my eardrum. I jerked my phone away, regretting not putting it on speaker. Her booming laugh turned into a gentle cackle, eventually fading away to a contented sigh.
“Wait until I tell your father.” The undercurrent of mischief in her tone made me shift on the couch.
“How is Dad? He watching his cholesterol?”
“He’s out golfing.” She snorted. “Claims eighteen holes a day keeps the doctor away.”
My lips curled at the edges. Golfing also kept him out of my mom’s hair. They’d been married long enough to view it as a win-win.
“It can’t hurt.”
Her long-suffering sigh gusted through the phone. “I know. It’s good for him. Plus, it leaves me free to walk with Christine.”
I bit my lip, something about the edge in her tone warning me that keeping up with Christine was about to become the focus of the next few minutes.
“Did I tell you her daughter is pregnant again? This is baby number three.”
There it was. The other reason for her call.
“How nice for her.”
I listened for a few minutes more as my mom detailed Christine’s daughter’s pregnancy.
Why I needed to know that mint gum cured her morning sickness was a mystery.
But mom’s subtext was clear: where was her grandbaby?
Answer: only in her dreams. Babies were messy.
Loud. Required constant attention. Come to think of it, they were a lot like Gran Fenwick. The errant thought made me chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Suspicion laced my mom’s tone.
“Just thinking about the parallels between Barbara Fenwick and an infant.”
“I don’t know if I should be excited you’re thinking about babies at all or alarmed that Barb is where your mind went.” My mom cleared her throat. “Her granddaughter, on the other hand, would be an excellent use of your time and attention.”
“Nice try, Mom. Pretty sure Zach, Drew, and Cole would disagree.”
“Maybe when you were teenagers, but you’re all grown now. It’s time to act like it.”
Part of me bristled. Thirty-five was adult enough.
And respecting my longest friendships didn’t make me a coward.
A fool, maybe, but not a coward. Some days it felt like I was still waiting for my real life to start – and watching Violet settle into my house like she belonged wasn’t going to make it any easier.
There was a difference between holding the line for loyalty… and hiding behind it. And maybe, just maybe – I ‘d been doing the latter a little too long.