59. Violet
VIOLET
As I sit in his driveway, I hit him with the truth.
“I want you, Drew.”
The words sit between us, simple and honest.
“I’ve always wanted you.”
I’m putting it all on the line because I’m not leaving.
I can’t.
Not after I finally got him.
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t interrupt.
Doesn’t reach for me.
And that—more than anything—tells me everything I need to know.
I draw in a slow breath, steadying myself.
Now I need to change the game.
No more chasing.
He needs to choose me.
Because we belong together.
“As much as I want to stay…” I continue, softer now, more careful, “I’ll give you some space.”
The word tastes wrong.
Bitter.
Unfamiliar.
It goes against everything I believe.
Everything I want.
Because the truth is, I need Drew more than he needs me.
Beneath the calm, always-in-control exterior is a woman desperate to be loved for who she is.
“Time for you to think about… things.” I let the sentence trail off.
I hate saying it.
I don’t like offering it.
But I do.
Because I know what it’s like to have something forced on you.
And I can’t do this to him.
Not like this.
I love him too much to stop him from leaving.
I look at him for a few minutes.
Long enough for hope to begin to fade. Wishing he’d say the words I desperately want to hear, but knowing he won’t.
Stay.
Don’t go.
We’ll figure it out.
Together.
He nods once. “Space… I think that’s for the best.”
The words land quietly. But they hit like glass shattering in a storm.
Something inside my chest tightens, sharp and sudden.
I’m not prepared for it.
I'd planned for rejection.
For questions.
For anger.
I never planned for goodbye.
Deep down, I thought he'd choose me.
I was certain.
And now...
I lower my gaze quickly before he can see the shift.
The crack between us suddenly feels enormous.
“I understand,” I whisper, even though that’s a lie.
I don’t understand.
My voice doesn’t shake. I refuse to let it.
“I’ll go.”
Without looking at him, I hand him the keys and get out.
I walk to the end of his driveway, blinking back tears. A stubborn part of me refuses to give up that small slice of hope that he’ll run after me and ask me to stay.
But he doesn’t stop me.
Next thing I know, there’s a blur of fur crashing against my leg.
I look down to see Luna, leaning into me, purring softly.
I scoop her up, burying my face in her softness. “You’ll take care of him,” I murmur. “Right?”
Her tail flicks in agreement.
My nose is still buried in her fur when I hear his footsteps behind me. Drew’s slightly out of breath from running.
“Thanks for grabbing her. She raced out before I could stop her.”
I draw in a deep breath, taking the moment to rebuild the control slipping through my fingers.
I lift my head and turn to find him watching me.
“No problem.” I hand her to him, my heart shattering. “Take care of each other.”
My voice is steady again. Like nothing just shifted inside me.
Even though everything has.
He nods. “Of course.”
Before I burst into tears, I turn my back on him.
“Goodbye, Drew.”
I hear him whisper a goodbye behind me.
I stand there, my shoulders drawn back, spine so stiff it hurts.
The warm air blows around me. It’s not comforting.
It was never meant to last, I tell myself.
But that thought makes it even worse, gutting me from the inside.
I lift my phone and dial Callie before I lose my nerve.
“Come get me,” I say in a quiet voice the second she answers. “I’m at Drew’s.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I start walking in the direction she’ll come from, unable to stand in his driveway any longer. Not with this much pain inside.
The first tear slips free before I even reach the end of his street.
I wrap my arms around myself like I can keep it all contained inside.
“Stop,” I whisper.
Another tear follows.
Then another.
And then—I’m crying.
Hard.
Messy.
Uncontrolled.
I hate crying.
I hate the way it makes me feel weak. Vulnerable.
My parents used to love making me cry.
Used my tears against me to inflict more pain.
Turned every weakness I had into something they could tear apart and rebuild. Turning me into something I no longer recognized.
Someone cold. Controlled.
A performer, unable to get close to anyone.
Until Drew.
He was the first man who ever made me feel safe instead of afraid.
Their words cycle through my head, over and over, like a brutal slashing.
“Compose yourself, Violet.”
“Stop being dramatic.”
“You’re not a child.”
I swipe at my face, but it doesn’t help. The tears keep coming.
I don’t even hear Callie pull up.
But her heels fill my ears, causing me to look up.
She wraps her arms around me, pulling me close.
I can’t see her clearly.
I can’t see anything through the flood of tears.
Right there on the street, I break in her arms.
The first time I’ve ever done that in my younger sister’s arms.
The first time I’ve ever broken in my life.
And it all crashes down.
I don’t remember Callie helping me to the car.
Or the drive home.
I look up when I hear the garage door opening, realizing we’re home.
As she pulls in, my breathing is uneven.
My entire body shakes.
For a moment, I’m not here.
Not in this car.
I’m a teenager, standing in a house that never felt like mine. Waiting for parents who never stayed long enough to matter.
They left me with nannies. With staff. With people paid to care but didn’t.
Then Callie came along.
And they left us both alone together.
I had someone to take care of now. Someone to teach.
And I loved her so much, I’d do anything to spare her from the loneliness and abandonment that haunted me.
I taught her how to observe. Adapt.
How to become what people expected.
And it worked.
It kept us both safe.
For a while.
Later, they took an interest.
But not in us.
In what we could be.
Who we could marry.
Who we could align with.
Who would benefit them.
I let out a shaky breath, picturing his face for the first time in years.
The one I forced myself to forget.
Anthony.
My stomach twists.
My hands curl into fists.
He was supposed to be perfect. Polished. Connected. Safe.
He wasn’t.
He never kept his hands to himself.
Never stopped inflicting pain on me.
I told my parents.
They told me to be more careful. More polite and less provoking.
I learned quickly that no one was coming to save me.
So I saved myself.
While he was at football practice every afternoon, I snuck off to take self-defense classes on campus.
I learned how to fight.
More importantly, I learned how to protect myself.
I made Callie come with me.
She complained at first. But when she saw the bruises I couldn’t hide and the horrors deep in my eyes that no one else noticed, she stopped complaining.
Because she understood it. Felt it.
My jaw tightens as the memory of that fateful night surfaces.
But I clench my fists and squeeze my eyes closed, fighting it.
No.
Not now.
When it passes, I lift my head slowly, staring out through the windshield. The tears slow, then stop.
“You okay?” Callie asks, her voice soft.
I look at my younger sister.
The one who just held me while I broke.
I’ve always been the one to hold her.
Squaring my shoulders, I nod.
My control returns, piece by piece. Breath by breath.
I lift my chin. That’s better. That’s who I am.
Not the girl crying along the street.
Not the one waiting for someone to choose her.
My nails dig into my palms.
Drew is different. He always has been.
He didn’t look at me like I was something to fix. Or something to use.
He looked at me like I mattered. Even when he didn’t know me.
“He just needs time,” I murmur.
Callie sits there, silently watching me.
A slow breath leaves me. “He'll come back.”
Even though my heart is broken, I don't believe that's how our story ends.
I can’t.
I wipe the last of the tears from my face and give Callie a smile. “Let’s go inside.”
She doesn’t move.
I grab the door handle and start to push it open, but she stops me.
“This isn’t over. You and Drew...” she stares at me intently. “Not even close.”
I stare at her, drawing courage from the confidence in her eyes.
I nod, giving her the first real smile since she picked me up.
I didn’t survive just to lose him now.