Chapter 13 – Lee
Well, shit. That was what I got for opening my big mouth. I should have asked her out again over dinner. Forged ahead under the romantic lights at Goose Hollow. But she smelled so good and looked so soft, I hadn’t been able to resist pulling her close.
Mistake.
Her touch had short-circuited what remained of my good intentions. Suddenly, cuddling didn’t cross the invisible line I’d drawn for myself. Then she called me on it, and my big mouth just wouldn’t shut up. I’d admitted everything, melting like butter under her dark gaze.
It had never been my plan to reveal that I’d spoken to her brothers.
Or exactly how much I’d participated in their teenage pranks, though I imagined Violet suspected my involvement.
Where did she think the evil I brought to my books came from?
I spent all my free time with her brothers back in the day.
Violet’s glare held me pinned to the couch. Demanding answers.
“Did I mention I always knew you were special?” Judging from her expression, the admission didn’t get me off the hook.
Violet poked a finger into my chest. “Spill, Murphy.”
I captured her hand, smoothing it over my heart. Maybe if she could feel my heart thumping beneath her palm, she’d cut me some slack. Remember I was only human.
“Clark bragged to me about getting in your pants, and I reported it to your brothers. He was way too old for you and not a good guy.” I held her gaze. “I helped your brothers shovel manure into his truck cab.”
“Lee! That was my one and only high school dance invitation, and you ruined it for me. You know what stung most?” she asked, quieter now.
“It wasn’t just the dance. It was… no one ever really tried after that.
I mean, not seriously. No one brought me flowers or asked me out.
Not in high school. Not after. It’s like your little manure stunt labeled me off-limits for good. ”
Good. But that primal whisper wasn’t the evolved response. I should feel shame that she missed out on those little courtship rituals.
“I know. But it was your brothers’ duty to protect you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But not yours.” She frowned. “I always suspected there was more.” She arched an eyebrow. “Care to come clean?”
I evaded her gaze, trying to decide how much to admit. Walking a fine line between honoring my life-long friendship with her brothers and my need to clear my conscience.
“Lee,” she prompted when the silence threatened to linger, “you’re not getting out of this by staring broodingly into the distance.”
“I may have duct-taped Dustin Levy to the boys’ locker room bench on the day he told me he was asking you to Homecoming.”
She gasped. “That is awful.”
The flash of betrayal that crossed her features made my stomach drop.
“He knew it wasn’t personal. And it sent a message.”
“I don’t even know what to say to you right now.” She ejected herself from the couch, pacing the room, her hands laced together on top of her head.
“Th—"
“—Don’t finish that,” she warned, her voice choked with the hint of tears. She whipped around, frowning severely. “If it’s not a word starting in ‘S,’ then I’m not interested.”
So much for my expertise in human behavior. I expected to take some shit for helping her brothers, but I never imagined how much I’d hurt her.
It was a mark of how much her pain shook me that I couldn’t even think of a damn word.
I squinted one eye. “Sorry?”
“Like you mean it.”
My throat tightened. The urge to make a joke, deflect crawled under my skin – but something about the way she looked at me stopped those words cold.
“None of those guys were good enough for you.”
It was the wrong thing to say, but true. I meant it.
She snorted. “They were teen boys. Of course they weren’t. But who were you to judge? Like you were any better?”
That one landed. Hard. Her words scraped something raw. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. In reality, I’d been much worse.
“I’m working on it.” I wanted to tell her I was trying. That I saw it now. That I saw her. But I’d already said enough wrong things tonight.
The itch to pop my knuckles flared. I squeezed my fingers into fists, riding out the urge.
“Work harder.” She tossed her head. It would have been comical if not for the disappointment etched on her face. “Goodnight, Lee.” She stomped upstairs, leaving me staring forlornly after her.
Part of me wanted to call her back. Ask for forgiveness. Ask for an ice pack. Anything to make her look at me with something other than disillusionment. But that was exactly what I’d vowed not to do: manipulate her with my injury.
Just because it was the wake-up call I needed to realize I was wasting time didn’t mean it had the same impact on her. I’d been the one sleepwalking through life, afraid to chase what mattered. Violet had never been the lost one. That title belonged to me.
Violet had probably been happy on her own. She didn’t need me. Not like I realized I needed her.
If I wanted a place in her life, I had to earn it. Getting back in her good graces wouldn’t be easy. It’d take time and work. Luckily, I was ready to get my hands dirty. I carried the metaphorical manure stink and duct tape residue to prove it.
One romantic dinner wouldn’t erase the sins of the past. It couldn’t paper over my mistakes, the missed opportunities, or the time I let slip through my fingers.
But it was a start. And for her? I would go hard, pulling out every trick in my arsenal, the kind of grand gestures and perfectly plotted redemption arcs I’d mastered in fiction.
Only this time, the stakes were real. The story I was rewriting was my own. And I wasn’t stopping until it led me straight to her.
***
You never realized what you had until you lost it. Vi’s cold shoulder extended through the morning. She still plunked a mug of coffee down at my desk for me before stomping off, but it was a far cry from other mornings when we enjoyed our coffee together. I missed her.
Luckily, she couldn’t avoid me forever. She’d already agreed to take me to my follow-up appointment with Dr. Underwood, and Vi kept her word.
I scooted into her passenger seat for the short drive to the medical center. Getting around didn’t hurt as much as it did in the first few days, but my ankle still ached.
Vi studiously ignored me in the waiting room, focusing on her phone like it held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. Or just a great TikTok. Either way, I couldn’t begrudge her for putting distance between us. I could only hope that, once I enacted my plan, she’d forgive me.
Dr. Underwood’s nurse, Monica, called me back, and I pushed to my feet. Violet didn’t even look up from her phone. Dejected, I followed Monica down the hall, getting my weight and height checked before taking a seat in the exam room.
A few minutes later, Dr. Underwood popped in.
Upbeat and cheerful, she looked like what she was: a blonde former cheerleader who’d managed the medical school grind and a family practice on a remote island and come out the other end as a slightly less-sunny doctor in her fifties.
Competent. Kind. But with a penchant for toxic positivity no doubt driven by hoping for the best when you worked with limited resources.
So much cheer made me suspicious. But maybe that was just my shadow-spotting nature.
“Hi, Lee. Let’s get that brace off and see how you’re doing today.” She bustled to my seat, easily popping the Velcro on my boot and tugging it clear to examine my foot and ankle. She poked and prodded for a solid five minutes, asking me about my pain levels before sitting back with a smile.
“It’s healing nicely. Just stay off it for another few weeks. You can discontinue using the crutches if you haven’t already. The boot should be enough to keep it immobilized.”
It should have been good news, but I couldn’t help wanting the time to go faster. As much as I loved having Violet with me, until she was truly free, I wouldn’t be either. And I needed her relieved of all sense of duty before I pushed forward with my plans.
“Thanks, Dr.”
Dr. Underwood smiled broadly enough, I could almost hear the ghost of a cheer in her voice. “See the front desk. I want to see you back in two weeks. Then we can get you into physical therapy.”
There was nothing about her demeanor to suggest that her husband was currently out on bail for art fraud.
Then again, what had I expected? Chaz Underwood staunchly denied the charges.
And none of his victims would press charges.
It made my author-sense tingle. There was more to the plot than a simple swindle.
I stopped to chat with Dr. Underwood’s receptionist and made my follow-up appointment while Vi ran out to her car. She’d just pulled up beneath the awning at the front of the medical center when I hobbled out.
“Can I take you to lunch?” I asked.
She’d been short with me all morning. Feeding her was always a solid strategy.
“I need to drop you off at home, then get to the shop,” Vi said.
“Did you see anything odd at the clinic this morning?” I asked, not wanting to argue. I’d already interrupted her life and her work schedule enough.
She cast a quick glance at me. “Odd how?”
I shrugged. “Not sure. I just found the whole thing with Chaz and the art gallery off. The Underwoods aren’t hard-up for funds.
Did he really need to plant paintings by his dog in his gallery?
And if he did it to launder money, why in the world were people buying?
Not everyone in his purchase records was rich or connected.
Lucy and Clay noticed several local clinic patients snapping up art. ”
“Like who?”
“Deb Jones and Jack Reynolds.”
Vi frowned. “Deb was my high school biology class partner. I run into her occasionally at the bakery. I think she works today. There’s something about trying not to vomit while you dissect a frog together that really bonds you.
” She shuddered. “I can visit Harry at the bakery and say hi, try to nose around a bit.”
“Counteroffer: let’s grab pizza there for lunch. Two birds, one stone.”
“Fine.” Vi sighed deeply. Her reluctance was palpable.
Maybe the way to her forgiveness wasn’t pizza, but it didn’t hurt to try.
Violet parked in front of the bakery, hovering with a baleful eye as I made my way slowly up the stairs. We placed our order when it was our turn at the counter. I loved their potato and Gorgonzola pizza. The combination sounded weird, but it was delicious.
Violet ordered a slice of their arugula and lemon pizza. She looked at the bakery case and added, “Oh, and he’s also buying me one of those small key lime pies.”
I shrugged at our cashier. “Better add a raspberry oat butter tart while you’re at it. And maybe a couple of croissants in a box?”
Violet settled at a table; her gaze fixed on the busy bakery staff behind the counter. “I don’t see Deb today.” She sounded disappointed.
“Darn.” I kept my voice monotone. “We’ll have to come to the bakery again. Shucks.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Where’s your loyalty? They are the competition.”
“No, they’re not.”
“I sell fresh baked goods at the Salty Pantry. They sell bread and pastries.”
“You bake artisanal breads and cookies with sea salt. They make pizza and croissants.”
“What is a croissant, if not an artisanal bread?”
“You both sell out every day. I’d say there are enough hungry bread-monsters on island to go around.”
“Maybe.” She said it doubtfully, as if she didn’t want to give up arguing with me.
One of the bakery’s staff called out our number, and Vi hopped up, returning a moment later with two paper plates, each with a steaming slice of pizza.
“And my loyalty always has been, always will be, to you,” I said pointedly.
“I think you mean my brothers,” she muttered, ripping into her lunch.
“No, Cupcake, I mean you.” I held her gaze, willing her to understand that I meant every word. Everything I’d done was for her. Including keeping my distance.
She fidgeted with the edge of her paper plate. I reached out, stilling her fingers. The touch was brief, just long enough to feel her warmth. But it was enough to draw her face up. The hint of doubt there sent a coil of dismay swirling.
She didn’t believe me. Not yet.
But I wanted her to. Badly enough that staying away no longer felt selfless—just lonely.