54. Violet
FIFTY-FOUR
VIOLET
My leg takes on the needle-like sensation of what it's like to have your arm fall asleep after laying on it for half the night. I uncross my other leg from it and shimmy my foot to encourage blood flow. The crick in my neck is the next thing my attention turns to. I roll my head from shoulder to shoulder, hoping it’ll release the pressure.
Unfortunately, it only makes it worse.
Bess talks on her phone in a hushed tone across from me, relaying all we know so far to Thad. He flew out earlier in the week for business and isn’t able to make it home until tomorrow evening.
I’m sandwiched between Everleigh and Sebastian, the unmistakable scent of hand sanitizer and freshly brewed coffee billowing into the waiting room. An hour ago, the doctors moved us from the emergency room to the orthopedic surgical wing where Colson is currently undergoing surgery for not one break but two.
We were told to be grateful he wasn’t hurt worse. In these delicate moments, it all feels the same. Like every injury would hold a high magnitude. Even a scratch.
When the ambulance and first responders arrived at the scene of the accident, they quickly learned Colson was T-boned at an intersection on the far end of Harrison Heights. The car rolled multiple times until it stopped on its hood. Whoever crashed into him, their car was in decent enough shape for them to drive off. A classic hit-and-run the police assured they were on the lookout to solve but who knows if they actually will.
I can only seem to concentrate on Colson’s body being cut open behind a set of doors we can’t walk through. He couldn’t have just walked away with a few cuts and bruises but was laden with a broken tibia—the break so bad his bone split through his skin—a fractured clavicle they’re pinning while fixing his leg, and a fractured eye socket that the doctor explained would look far worse cosmetically than in actuality.
My gaze ricochets around the room as my leg bobs up and down in response to the anxious pinpricks. Sebastian’s leg does the same, moving in perfect rhythm to my own. He’s a lot calmer than he was when he showed up at the apartment, but I know he’s worrying and wondering how much worse it could’ve been. Still, he hasn’t said much, and I haven’t prodded because I think we’re all going through something we’d rather not discuss.
I look around the waiting room, noting the strangeness in knowing it wasn’t long ago that we were in this same hospital where Colson had to claim his mother’s overdosed body. And now we’re back for him. My stomach churns with a trifecta of overwhelming emotions.
Terror.
Devastation.
Somberness.
Each one folds over the other until they’re the perfect mixture of premade dough ready to bake, only a pretty loaf of bread isn’t what I’ll get in return. I'm blessed with a queasiness that rivals the worst twenty-four hour stomach bug one can imagine, the constant adrenaline rush of what it’s like to walk around the corner only for your sibling to jump out and scare you, and the caffeine hit that comes from downing one too many coffees in a row.
No one else is in the waiting room with us, which makes me both relieved and remorseful. Relieved because I wouldn’t wish this kind of suffering on anyone. Remorseful because why does it have to be Colson who’s here instead?
I try not to think about it too much, knowing it’s not the mindset I should get stuck in while we’re waiting to hear that he’s out of surgery. There’s a TV monitor on the wall with a screen that has each patient’s name along with their status. In the last hour, I’ve looked at it no less than a thousand times. Each time I do, I’m saddened to see no change. Colson’s status is perpetually stuck in the surgery zone, indicating that they’re still repairing his broken body. They said it could take hours. More if they run into complications. I pretend like that's not even a possibility.
My eyes fixate on the time at the bottom of the monitor. It’s approaching four in the morning, and because I’ve had only an hour of sleep, I shift and crowd Everleigh’s space.
“I need to get up and move,” I explain in a whisper. “Do you want a coffee? I’m wide awake, but I need to give my hands something to do even if it’s just holding a cup for now.”
Everleigh looks up from her phone where she’s been lost in a book. Her attendance isn’t required, but she’s here because she cares about me and Sebastian. Colson, too, despite not being very close to him. For a second, I think about Sylvia, wondering if her plane touched down on Ireland soil or if she’s already back at her family’s palace. It was only a few hours ago that I read her departure letter. If she were still here, would she be sitting with the rest of us in this waiting room?
Probably not. Tristan nor Webber are here. I wonder if Sebastian even told them about his cousin. Then again, he could barely tell me and Everleigh. I hate that it’s gotten to this point—that we don’t know how to be there for one another. That there used to be six of us, and now we’re down to three.
Everleigh breaks me out of my thoughts when she says, “I can go get us all coffee. Why don’t you sit and wait in case there’s an update?”
I shake my head. “I need to get up and move.”
She frowns. “Okay. We’ll both go then.”
“I don’t think it’s very far. I saw one of those machines around the corner when we got off the elevator.”
“Perfect.” She looks between Bess and Sebastian. “Would either of you like a cup of coffee? We could all probably use a little pick me up.”
Bess twists her phone to the side. “Yes, that would be lovely.” She fishes a couple of bills out of her wallet and hands them to Everleigh. “Get one for each of us, please.”
I look at Sebastian’s forlorn expression. He doesn’t look up from wherever his gaze is set on the floor in front of his feet. God. He looks ruined. Ever since Colson came around, it’s been clear how much he cares about him, but tonight that notion hits hard. He wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to him. Just like Colson didn’t know what to do when his mother turned up without a pulse.
Everleigh and I walk past the surgical orthopedic receptionist desk where there’s a be back in fifteen sign suctioned to the glass slider. We push out through a door that leads to a hallway. I guide us to where I saw the coffee machine until we hear a commotion coming from the other end of the corridor where the elevators are located.
Near them is a help desk for those who are trying to find different wings of the hospital on this level. I didn’t pay much attention to it since a nurse from the E.R. brought us to where we needed to be.
We make small talk as we wait for the machine to brew four extra-strong coffees. It adds cream and sugar for us as well. All while that same commotion from the help desk travels down the hall.
“What do you think that’s about?” Everleigh asks, eyes wide when the person’s voice bellows louder and the woman’s voice behind the desk threatens calling security.
“Who knows.”
“Hardly the way to be this time of night or should I say morning? God, I can’t believe we’re even here to begin with.” She reaches out and squeezes my elbow. “You holding up okay?”
I nod in response, even though I’m a mess.
When I notice the familiarity in the male’s voice from down the hall, I blink at the same speed of the last few drops of coffee falling into the last cup. Everleigh collects a carrying tray from the station next to the machine.
My attention seeks out the voice of the person who I can’t see around the corner, waiting for them to speak again. A grumbled, “Fuck,” booms down the hall, ping-ponging off the walls until it lands at my feet.
Wait a second.
I tell Everleigh to head back to the others without me. I’m not keen on being away for longer than necessary, but I’m also incredibly interested in finding out if my instincts are correct.
I wait until she’s gone to make it around the curve in the hall where I can get a better view. Down the corridor, a man dressed in black denim with a long-sleeved gray thermal paces back and forth. His equally dark boots smack against the tile with each step he takes. When the man’s profile turns, and I get a side view of him, my gaze connecting with the inky black lines drawn over the skin of his neck, my hunches are confirmed.
Finn.
I don’t know if I should be relieved or worried to see him. I know which Colson would be. He’d hate knowing he’s in the same building as him. Still, I can’t turn and walk away now, not when I know who he’s here to see.
I’m quick to make it to him so he doesn’t give the lady any more trouble. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I reach for his arm to gently let him know I’m behind him.
He swivels around as soon as he registers the pressure of my hand. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he snarls out, his eyes darker than ever. Long strands of his hair brush over his forehead like curtains and then recognition dawns. “Violet?”
“That’d be me.” I smile at him sheepishly.
“Fuck, I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine,” I cut him off. “You heard about Colson, didn’t you?”
“Word travels fast in Harrison Heights. Someone fucking hit him and ran?”
Worry traces the color in his eyes as I try to find the proper words for an answer. I just nod and murmur out, “Yeah.”
“He’s okay, though, right?” This is exactly how I know Finn cares, regardless of what he’s connected to on a day-to-day basis or what he did in the past.
I shake my head at the same time a glassiness fills my eyes. Aside from the shock and dread that came over me when Sebastian stormed into my bedroom, I’ve been doing a decent job holding it together. However, there’s something about Finn standing in front of me, his face distraught from the idea of Colson not being okay, that tears my heart in two. It’s quick and easy, like shredding a piece of paper down the middle, but no less painful.
My arms come around my middle and clutch my stomach. My fingers dig into my shirt, twisting the fabric in my palms when Finn spins and runs his hand through his hair. He fists it, pulling at his own locks as if there’s no pain attached to the action.
“How bad is it?” he questions after he’s able to swallow down his fear. For a moment, I think how incredibly strange it is to be in this hall with him when the first time I saw him outside of Spring Meadows I referred to him as Stranger Guy.
I remember judging him, thinking how mysterious and out of place he was. How he didn’t look like he belonged in Chatham Hills. I think back on the times Colson warned me to stay away from him and the night I learned about all he did.
I push it all away as if it doesn't matter because it doesn’t . Finn came for me when Colson was fighting and he was worried where he may end up. He was there for me and Olive the night we showed up at his strip club. And now he’s here again, at the hospital where his half brother lies on an operating table for injuries he sustained in a motor vehicle accident.
Maybe that’s what draws me to clutch the fabric at his wrist and yank him down the hall toward the waiting room where we’ve been for the last hour. I don’t know how everyone will feel over him being present, but he deserves a chair in that waiting room. He deserves the updates and details. He deserves to know the man he’s trying like hell to earn forgiveness from is going to be okay.
We make it so far before Finn stops me by the coffee machine and presses me. “You didn’t answer me, Violet.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and blow out a breath. “He’s in surgery, Finn.”
He grits his teeth. “Surgery for what? The lady at that desk wouldn’t tell me a fucking thing. ”
“He sustained breaks. One of them was what they consider an open fracture.”
“I’m not a doctor,” he retorts. “What does that mean?”
“When his bone broke, it tore through his skin. The only way to fix it was for him to get surgery right away. He has another break, too, that they’re putting a plate and screws in to repair while he’s under anesthesia. They said it could take up to a couple of hours until they're finished. More if there are complications or they find more damage that needs attention.”
“Did you see him?” Finn asks, voice way lower than when he was dealing with the woman at the help desk.
I give him a pitiful shake of my head. “None of us have.”
“I’m going to find the bastards that hit him,” he mutters under his breath, face turning so he can look down the hall. He takes a step back like he needs to retreat from reality.
“Finn,” I call out softly.
“And then I’m going to break every goddamn bone in their body.”
“You can’t do that,” I tell him, reaching for his arm to calm him.
“See how fucking pleasant it is for them. I’m going to wreck them, Violet,” he promises without a lick of shame. A scowl twists his lips. “Fucking ruin them.”
“ Finn .”
He walks over to the coffee vending machine and smacks his palm into the side of it. The rumble of his assault echoes down the hall. I close in on him, not entirely sure what to do or say to get him to calm down but knowing he needs to before that lady really does call security.
His eyes are wild when he spins on me. “Prick isn’t going to know what’s coming for him.”
“Attacking someone over this isn’t what’s needed.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
I roll my eyes, annoyance running through me. Agitation like no other fills me. How dare he come to the hospital to act like this. It isn’t the time or place, nor has he been the one sitting here, patiently waiting to hear how the heck Colson is doing or if his surgery was a success.
“Is this why you came? To get off on your own ego? Do you think any of us need you having a tantrum while we’re shitting our pants with anxiety?” I bite down so hard I’m afraid my teeth might splinter and then say, “You know what? Go home.”
I turn to walk away, leaving him next to the coffee machine with my own restlessness rising in me like a forgotten bathtub so dangerously close to spilling over. That’s me . Near the edge and ready to roll over it and drip, drip, drip to the floor in a wave of defeat.
A tear slips past my eyelashes as I curve around the wall. I swipe it away, making it twenty feet until Finn calls out. He grips my bicep and spins me around a second later.
“Goddamnit, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to…I did mean what I said about finding the person, but I get that it isn’t the time or place to get into that. I just…” He looks away, then back down at me. There’s this uncanny similarity between him and Colson in this moment that my heart slows to an underwhelming pace, slowly pitter-pattering against my ribcage.
“I don’t know how to handle this,” he admits, all that hardness he usually exudes nowhere to be found. “I find out that I have a brother, one who I’ve physically put my hands on more than once. I try to make it right, be in his corner, but it’s fucking useless because he’ll never forgive me. Had I known…” His jaw clenches, rippling from the weight of his bite.
“If I knew who he was to me, it would’ve never happened. As heavy as my past with Colson is, it’s like in the snap of a finger it doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters is that he’s okay. I keep thinking about how I just found out I have this brother, and that goddamn quick, he could’ve been taken from me. And I…I would’ve lost my shot at getting to know him. Like… really getting to know him. Not that surface level bullshit. Fuck, I sound like a pussy.”
“I’m sure what you’re feeling is normal for someone in your shoes,” I murmur. “And I’m sure he’d be happy to know you’re here for him now.”
“Yeah fucking right. He’s going to be pissed when he sees me.”
“Does that mean you’re staying?”
He nods solemnly. “Until I see he’s alright.”
I take a step closer and wrap my arms around his torso. If Colson saw us, he’d flip, but Finn could use the comfort. Hell, I could, too.
Finn wraps one arm around my waist, barely hugging me back. I take it for what it’s worth, figuring he isn’t used to this kind of affection. If he were, he wouldn’t be so rough around the edges.
I take a step back when it seems like he’s had enough and tip my head in the direction of the waiting room. “Come on.”