Chapter 19
Nineteen
JASPER
I t’s instinct that has me grabbing the counter before I actually collapse to the floor. She'd never gotten the necklace? Sienna had lied? But it had been Violet's handwriting, right?
“The necklace I’d brought you when I checked in the first time. Kurt had answered the door and explained what was going on. He’d promised to set it aside for you.”
This time, I know I’m not imagining the tears in Violet’s eyes. Faedra doesn’t miss them, either. She stands from the couch and crosses to where Violet leans, whispering in her ear. Jealousy burns through me and flashes white hot as Violet relaxes, giving her friend a single nod as she blinks quickly. Faedra gathers a bag from beside the couch and leaves the dorm without another word or glance at either of us, her phone already out and dialing someone.
Silence descends hard and fast on the room. It’s worse than that of Faedra's hatred. It carries years of unresolved hurt and misunderstanding. There's a chasm between Violet and me, stretching the last four years, and I have no idea how to patch it or cross it to get to her on the other side.
"When did you bring a necklace?" Violet's question is a shaky whisper, and her arms press harder into her chest.
"The day after you went radio silent," I murmur.
Her throat ripples with a swallow. I repeat what I said before, adding more details.
“Kurt answered the door when I swung by. He’d looked worried and stressed, so I asked what was going on. He said you'd gone into heat. So I left the necklace with him, and he promised to give it to you once you were coherent again. I... I waited all week, but you never texted to let me know you were all right."
Violet shakes her head. "I never got anything from Papa. When I came out of my heat, my mom was standing at my door with a note she said was from you."
She drops her arms and holds out a hand, a single piece of paper held between her fingers. It's identical to the one I'd burned when I moved to join the philharmonic. It takes every single ounce of willpower I possess to cross the room and take the worn scrap from her hands. I let my fingers graze hers. Her breath catches, but she doesn't pull away. I can smell her honeysuckle scent now that I'm near her, but it's probably just from her room.
My hands tremble as I unfold the paper, and bile rises in my throat as I read what's written in a scrawl nearly identical to my own.
Thanks for the ride.
"Mom said she had already blocked your number and socials because something like this was unacceptable for her daughter."
I tear my gaze away from the harsh words. Her eyes are wide and glassy, and while her arms are still crossed, the tension has bled away from her. My chest aches. I want to wrap my arms around her, bridge this last bit of physical distance in the hope it will erase the years of heartache.
Even my romantic heart knows it isn't that simple, though.
"I told you that you were it for me, Vi," I whisper, dropping the forged note. "Until the end of time. I meant it."
Her breath is shaky, and a single tear runs down her cheek. I can't help but brush it away. I swear her scent gets stronger.
"I'd just gone through a heat. My first one. It was… it was so much more overwhelming than I’d expected. There were entire days that I didn’t really remember." Her words grow quieter with each statement until they're little more than a whispered breath between us.“I trusted her to tell me the truth.” She shakes her head. “I knew she was catty. I’d seen her be awful with Scarlett. I… I guess you would remember all of that, though. But I still thought maybe she was on my side.”
Another tear falls, and I brush that one away, too, before pushing my luck and cupping her cheek. She doesn’t push me away, her breath hitching for a moment.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. “I… I should have tried again. Kept coming back until one of your dads opened the door instead.”
She nods, her gaze distant for a moment, then she sighs.
“I’m not sure she would have let them answer it,” she whispers. “Not if she had used my heat as a way to force us apart.”
She brushes away another tear, looking at the ground. It's like a bucket of water is thrown over us both. She steps back, out of my hesitant touch. I let my arm drop to my side.
"Why was matching with me the worst thing possible?" she asks, a bite in her voice again.
I swallow and run a hand through my hair.
Can I honestly tell her? Dominic is already pissed. Having Violet know the truth won't help anything.
Assuming he comes back at all , that small voice whispers. My stomach clenches at the thought of him leaving me.
Her eyes grow guarded as my hesitation grows. That little bit of distance we just regained is already slipping through my fingers.
Fuck it.
"It... it wasn't supposed to be a real pack," I say.
Her brows furrow, and I continue before she can ask anything.
"Dominic doesn't want to match. He despises that he's an Alpha—not that he’ll ever actually admit it. But he takes the highest dose of suppressor they’ll allow for extended use.” I definitely should not be divulging this to her, these intimate things between Dominic and me. But I can’t manage to stop my mouth. “He hardly scents and doesn’t crave needing to mark the way Rylan does.” I blow out a breath. “Anyway, Dominic's father kept his trust fund from being released until Dominic consented to registering with the Council and going to a gala. We’d just really figured out that we wanted to try being a triad. Except not really? I don’t actually know the term for what we are. They both fuck me, but they don’t fuck each other.”
Her eyebrow rises, but her cheeks don’t darken the way I expect them to. I should have realized she wouldn’t be the same blushing virgin she was when we’d first met. Rylan already admitted to fucking her through a heat last fall. And it’s not like I really care. I don’t. It’s just… it’s one more thing that proves the time and distance between us. Almost the same as before, but not quite.
I clear my throat. “Rylan and I agreed to register with him. The plan was to go to one gala then deactivate and move on with our lives together."
I turn away from her before I can see whatever level of disgust is bound to be there. It's an awful thing to admit to. The Council does an inordinate amount of vetting to avoid precisely what we had planned.
"And then..." My voice grows haggard. "And then I saw you there and realized you hadn't matched yet, and I panicked. The idea of having to see you after the way you left things in Seattle…” I drop onto the sofa and bury my face in my hands, leaning over my knees. “I didn’t think I had it in me to handle another round of you ripping my heart out. And I knew Dominic would try to annul any match that went through. The idea of being in that awkward limbo and you hating me through it was…”
I let my voice fade out.
There's a long beat of silence before she says anything. Her voice is closer than I expect it to be.
"So it wasn't because you hated me and couldn't stand the idea of being stuck with me?"
She thought I hated her? I just admitted I was scared of her being angry at me, of hating me .
I lift my head as I snarl, "Never."
Her eyes are unfocused, her hands held limply at her sides where she stands a few feet away from me. She collapses onto the coffee table, her hand covering her mouth as she tries to hide a sob.
"Violet," I say. I stretch toward her, forgetting everything sitting between us, and pull her into my arms. "Don't cry, Vi. Please don't cry."
"I thought you hated me," she whispers, her voice broken and vulnerable.
My laugh is humorless. “Even when I wanted to despise you, I couldn’t manage. It took me years to be able to date again.”
I don’t mention I haven’t touched a woman since her.
She nods, her cheek brushing against my sternum, and I swear I almost feel my chest rumble with satisfaction.She doesn’t rush to fill the quiet, and so I relax into it, too, feeling her chest move with each breath. I twist a strand of her hair around my finger. A flash of metal catches my eye, and I trace the industrial piercing she didn’t have before.
“I’m probably crushing you,” she mumbles after a while.
I tighten my hold on her. “Don’t you dare start with that bullshit.”
She nods but adjusts in my lap until her legs drape over the side of my thigh. I palm her knee and pull her tighter against me.This time the honeysuckle isn’t from her room, and my breath hitches for a moment.
“I brought you flowers,” I say against the crown of her head.“Sunflowers.”
Violet sits up, and I let my arms fall. Her throat moves with a swallow, and then she grabs my hand and presses it against her waist. The honeysuckle grows stronger. That hollow feeling in my chest lessens. Maybe this chasm isn’t insurmountable.
“But they’re not in season,” she says.
I shrug. “Bianca loves having fresh flowers around the estate, so she has some connections.”
Her eyebrows draw tight.
“Who’s Bianca?”
It’s subtle, but I hear the jealousy in her voice. I squeeze her knee, trying to use all the nonverbal things I’ve noticed both of my lovers use often.
“Dominic’s mom,” I say. “You’ll love her.”
I have no doubt. They’re both fiery, passionate women that know what they want but have been forced to adapt because of life railroading them.
She frowns and threads her fingers with mine. I run my thumb down her side, trying to calm her the way Rylan always does for me.
“You said he…” She swallows. “You said that Dominic would annul any match that happened?”
I nod and tighten my hold on her knee.
She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing. "So why hasn't he? I've gotten the notice that Mom filed to get it overturned, but nothing saying any of you have."
Rage burns in my gut. "She's tried to overturn it?"
She nods but waves away the look of concern I give.
"Of course she has. The worst thing in her mind that could happen is having one of her Omega children matched with a Beta."
My lip curls.
“I had to turn it back in for it to hold weight with the Council. I threw it out,” she admits.
Something crowds my chest that I refuse to name. Not yet. Not while there's still so much standing between us. I can't help how ragged my voice is, though.
"You didn't even have them review your other options?" I ask.
She shakes her head, though she drops her eyes, looking unsure again.
"Why?" I drop my voice, trying to calm her down. It’s not nearly as good as Rylan’s soothing baritone, but her shoulders drop away from her ears. A moment later, she blows out a long breath.
"I tried to convince myself it was just because I wanted to knot with Rylan again," she says.
It’s absolutely not jealousy burning in my stomach. And certainly not morbid curiosity over what she felt about the experience or if it matches my experience of him knotting me. I raise my eyebrow, but she doesn't look up from where she's messing with her leggings, picking at imaginary lint.
She takes a deep breath and glances up at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears again. "I needed to know for myself if you really hated me. I told myself that if you did, if you were truly angry over being matched, I'd put in the paperwork for the match to be annulled.”
Annulled, not reassigned.
Annulled meant she wouldn’t consent to being paired up with someone else. It meant that she would lose her chance to find a pack that would cherish her.
I force myself to breathe slowly and keep my hold on her light.
I want that chance. To hold her, cherish her, prove to her that we’re enough for her, that she doesn’t have to dread being matched.
“I’m glad you waited,” I admit.
The tears run over her lashes. She doesn't try to blink them away or wipe them off her cheeks. It's the least guarded I've seen her since the video call last week, and my heart twists.
"Kiss me, Jas," she whispers.