12. Violet
TWELVE
VIOLET
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Sebastian leans against the doorframe in his funeral attire, looking every bit of nonchalant while I freak out. He has a mini bag of M&M’s in his hand—the kind little kids get at Halloween—and empties the rounded candies into his palm, dumping most of them into his mouth a second later.
It reminds me of the obsession Olive and I have with Sour Patch Kids, the memory highly welcome since it’s been a few days since I’ve talked to her. I make a mental note to text her later when I’m not so distracted that it feels as if my head might burst if I add one more thought into the mix.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But what’s he going to do when you show up? Kick you off cemetery grounds like he owns them?”
I tug my black pantyhose up my legs. Sebastian kindly puts a hand over his eyes when I have to shimmy them up under my dress. I should’ve put them on first, but again, I’m so overwhelmed that even executing getting dressed in the proper order proves difficult.
“Colson broke up with me. Made it very clear that he doesn’t want to see me. I shouldn’t be showing up at his mother’s funeral like we never parted, like I knew her, like…” I’m at a loss for words and so tangled in my emotions that I don’t know what else to say to convince Sebastian that I should stay home.
He dusts his hands off before moving into my room. He showed up fifteen minutes ago, as he promised he would yesterday, and has been keeping me company while I finish getting ready. I thought I wouldn’t mind him being here before heading out, but it’s making this all seem a lot more intense.
Like I’m about to make a huge mistake.
I saw the way Colson looked at me the other night.
Understood it clearly when he told me we were done, and I hobbled to my car. If I have one thing going for me, it’s that my ankle is feeling a lot better. But the rest of me?
He’s going to freak if I trek up to his mom’s burial ceremony after what happened the last time I saw him. My heart and ego still ache any time I muster up the courage to think about how he left me hanging that night. How he watched me make it to my car in a series of limps. How he stood there and watched me drive out of his life like it wasn’t worth calling me back to stay.
Sebastian knows that I showed up at his house. What he doesn’t know is how many times I’ve visualized his cousin running after my car, yelling for me to stop, just so he could tell me what a huge mistake he was making.
Sebastian presses his hand gently against my arm. I look up into his eyes, and I’m so glad to have a friend like him. Sylvia and Tristan are too busy with Fletcher and Nelson to care about anyone else. And there’s no way I’m falling back on Webber to get me through. Space is the best thing for us. Which circles me back around to Everleigh, who’s trying her best to offer support after going through her own break up, and Sebastian.
“He’s going to flip shit when he sees me,” I tell him, bringing my thoughts back to the present.
“No, he won’t.”
He sounds so sure of himself. As if he and Colson are the same person, and he can guarantee that he won’t take one good look at me and tell me to leave.
“He’ll be too distracted over what’s going on. Sure, he might see you and wonder, but he’s not going to kick you off of Willow Creek Cemetery property. He doesn’t have the authority to do that.”
I scoff. “We hope.”
“I know .”
Part of me hates that Sebastian is wasting his time with me when he could be living it up with his gaming buddies and hitting up parties with Tristan and Webber.
“He’s already having a hard time. Add on that my mom has him going to see her lawyer afterwards to deal with legal shit, and it’s going to have him wanting to shut down. He’s going to need you there, both of us, to help him get through it,” Sebastian explains.
“I’m not so sure about that.” From what I saw the night I went to his mom’s house, he seemingly had himself under control. Yeah, he didn’t want to see me, and his tone was callous, his eyes jarring, but did he appear two seconds away from breaking into a tiny million pieces?
“Your lack of trust in me is insulting,” Sebastian cracks, dousing out the tension with a teasing tone. My shoulders sag in relief that only one of us is freaking the hell out.
“I’m sorry.” I bring my hands to my face, pressing my fingers into my cheeks, careful not to smudge the little bit of makeup I have on. “It’s just that…I have a hard time believing that he’s suddenly going to be okay with me around.” My stomach swoops with the fright of a big, scary monster being under the bed. Standing this close to mine, it really does almost feel like one is about to reach out and take me. It certainly would save me from what I’m about to walk into. “Do I need to remind you of how he reacted?”
“Yeah, and if you ask me, he’s a dumb shit for even thinking about pushing you away, but he’s going through his worst days, Vi. Something bigger than either of us, and it’s going to take him a minute to walk through it.” Sebastian’s voice is usually so upbeat that it nearly knocks me back a step when it trembles. “Don’t give up just because the going is a little tough. Stick it out with him. For him. He’s worth the fight.”
The awful part is that I know that. I know Colson is worth it. I know that I care so deeply for him that I’d do anything to help him through what’s been tossed in his lap. What’s difficult is that I don’t want to step on his toes. I don’t want him to think of me as less than he already does. I don’t want to risk pushing him so far away that when this is all said and done, when he’s recovering from the impact, he’s still too far away to grasp my hand for me to help him to his feet.
“You know how much I care about him, Sebastian.”
“I know.” He drops his hand and squeezes mine once before tucking his hands into his pockets. He grabs another small bag of chocolate candies out of his pocket and tears it open. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten hints of his obsession with the sweet treat, but it is the first time I’m noticing that he’s falling back on it to help him get through his stress.
I watch as he dumps them out in his hand again and eats all of them at once.
My brow arches at him, and I let out a breath. “I’m sorry I’m making this all about me when you’re going through it, too. Are you okay? It can’t be easy seeing him hurting as deeply as he is. Or your mom.”
He cracks an easy grin as he chews with a closed mouth, the corner of his lips tugging upward and shooing away the frown that was there a minute ago. “The great thing about things stinking like shit is that everything else smells a helluva lot better in comparison. Today will suck, but it’ll be the beginning of their journey to healing.”
I can’t help it. I shove his shoulder softly.
“I can’t believe I’ve known you for over two years and have never truly realized how much of a softie you are.”
He rolls his eyes and crumbles his second empty M&M wrapper into his pocket. “It’s not a big deal to care about people,” he mumbles around a mouthful of candy.
He’s right. It’s not, which is why I brush my hair off my shoulder and tell him I’m ready to go.
Sebastian parks his Aviator in the cemetery parking lot. As he shuts off his car, I notice the two other black SUVs that belong to his family. Tombstones of varying sizes and shapes outline the area, putting a nastier chill in my bones than the lower December temperatures. In the field up ahead, there are a few chairs next to a raised casket. Sebastian’s parents and Colson are already seated and waiting.
I glance over at Sebastian. “Are we late?”
“Nah, they’re early.”
“Are your parents expecting me? Is Colson going to be the only one blindsided?”
“They know.” He pulls the latch to open his door. “And one day he’ll be thankful as fuck that you blindsided him. Let’s go.”
I hop out of the car and smooth my dress down. My black peacoat keeps me warm as we cross the lot and descend onto the field. I’m careful where I walk, not wanting to disrespect graves. The closer I get to my ex, the harder my heart thrashes in my chest.
The way I see it, I’m walking into what could very well be a war zone.
Sebastian clears his throat to voice our arrival. His parents look up and notice him. His mom gets out of her chair and envelops him in a hug. I hear the quiet, “Hi, Mom,” he gives her and shift my focus to the ground.
Colson is in my peripheral, sitting in that damn chair like a statue. His gaze is set forward. Most likely on the cherry-colored casket, and his body hitches forward at the waist, his elbows on his thighs. His chin rests on his hands, and all I imagine is walking over, squatting to my knees, and looking deep into his blue eyes. They’d tell me how he’s really doing.
I rally some semblance of self-control as I watch Bess pull away from her son and come for me next. There’s a sorrowful smile playing on her lips, making her look more put together than she did the night at the hospital. It must be eating her up that things are the way they are. She lost her little sister, and her nephew isn’t doing so well.
Her worry and stress present themselves under her eyes, in the shadowing that sits below her lush lashes. She murmurs into my ear. “Violet. I’m so happy you could make it.”
I move my hands to her back and squeeze gently. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Bess. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” And I mean that, despite my logic telling me to back away and leave.
“I’m so glad Colson has someone like you.” She says it so quietly that I barely hear it. I’m not sure if it’s done out of respect for where we are or so he doesn’t hear. Does she know that he’s broken it off with me?
She pulls away, and I look at her. “If there’s anything you ever need, please let me know.”
She clutches my hands. “You’re the absolute sweetest. Come sit.”
I find myself following Sebastian’s mom to the only empty chair, which happens to be next to the one person I’m worried about seeing. I gulp down my nerves as I cross into his line of sight. He continues staring straight ahead. Pretends he doesn’t notice me. I’m quiet as a mouse as I shuffle onto the seat and make myself comfortable. I get one semi-reassuring glance from Sebastian on Colson’s other side, but it does nothing to calm the unsteadiness in my bones as I sit and do what everyone else does.
We stare at the closed casket before us. It’s perched above the ground, and at some point, it’ll be lowered into the hole beneath it. There’s a picture of Colson’s mother from when she was younger close to it. She was gorgeous, with long glossy hair and clear hazel eyes. It’s easy to see her resemblance to Bess. Before her life choices impacted her appearance.
Time passes, but unlike a normal burial service, there isn’t someone to say a prayer or offer a eulogy on behalf of the deceased.
I pick at my nails and glance at Colson’s back. I wish I was brave enough to reach over, extend my condolences, and comfort him. I’m deathly—a real fitting word considering our surroundings—afraid of reaching out and ruining this for him. Frightened he’ll snap like one too many rubber bands wrapped around each other.
A single rose sits atop his mom’s casket, and I realize that if roles were reversed, I’d want his comfort. Even if it felt like I couldn’t take one more breath and all I wanted was to be left alone with my thoughts, I’d want someone there for me.
I scrutinize my cuticles one last time and breathe in a steadying breath. I can do this. My hand is cold, chilled down to the bone from the winter air, but warms as soon as my palm glides over the scratchy sweater stretched over his back.
Turns out, I am brave enough. That, or I just really like to torture myself when it comes to Colson. I hold my breath, half expecting his muscles to jump, for him to jerk his shoulder in a way that says, get the hell off me . My eyes flutter shut when that doesn’t happen.
My chest nearly caves in, and Lord knows I’m about ready to sob as if I personally knew Janie Moore. I’ve missed this man so much. I miss his stoic expressions, the goofy text messages he’d send throughout his workdays, how he’d come back to my apartment in the evenings and never once left me wondering if he missed me.
Someone sniffles. I’m pretty sure it’s him, and my eyes snap over to his back where my hand gently moves up and down. Sebastian gives me a conspiratorial glance as if to say, this is it. I hope you’ve been lifting weights because you’re going to have to hold up your side of the crumbling man between us.
I fold my lips into my mouth and endure the back and forth of wanting and not wanting to curl closer into his side. When his shoulders wobble with a weep, I can’t hold back. The fight in my head vanishes, as does everything around me.
My hand moves from his back to the top of his leg where I can access it from the way he sits. His elbows are still perched on his thighs, but the second he feels me there, he drops one of his hands to mine. A jolt of comfort shoots through me, and I’m quick to entwine my fingers through his. He holds onto me like he slipped on a rock and tumbled over a cliff, and I’m the only one available to pull him back to solid ground. His other hand moves to his face, and he presses the heel of his palm to his eyes. It kills me every time his shoulders wrack the tiniest bit.
What was I thinking?
Not wanting to come today?
Sebastian was right.
He needs me.
Even if he might not see it.
Even if I’m scared.
Even if he broke up with me.
I scoot to the edge of my seat and run my free hand over his sweater-clad arm. The material is coarse, but I bet it’s the last thing he’s thinking about. No one cares about the little things when their heart is so tragically close to splintering.
“I’m here,” I promise in a muffled tone. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He doesn’t respond, but I know he can’t right now. He’s lost at sea in the middle of a storm. Holding my hand doesn’t immediately draw him out of it but guides him to shore. I’m his lighthouse, throwing out bright, luminous light every other second in hopes it’ll bring him closer and closer to home.
Closer to me.